Title: Just for a Moment

Author: dragonfly

Genre: drama, h/c, bromance, Big Brother Dean

Warnings: Spoilers for 13x21 Beat the Devil/ 13x22 Exodus.

Summary: Dean sets Sam straight.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I just got the characters out to whump and comfort.

A/N: A scene I wanted to see after Sam stumbled into the camp.

~*~SPN~*~

As quickly as Sam's long and unsteady legs would allow, Dean led him by the arm inside. He wasn't sure who was shaking more. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he lay a hand on you?"

"What? No, Dean," Sam answered—exhaustion and something else lacing his voice. "He just…he just brought me back."

The place looked like it needed more than a little paint, but there were a few cots in the corner and that practically made it the Hilton around there. He sat Sam down on one of the thin mattresses and took the cot beside him. Knees brushing each other's, Dean methodically began to check him over.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

As the soft words came, he continued his Big Brother Due Diligence despite the tears in his eyes and the rock in his throat. Sam's hands were filthy and scraped. His pulse was fast and thready. Dean hadn't been able to bring himself to look at his face, his neck, his haunted eyes yet. "For what?" He finally tried for casual. "Dying on me again?" He couldn't keep doing this to him.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Dean started to tug off Sam's jacket.

"Dean…"

There was so much dried blood. So much. Stopping his assessment, Dean closed his eyes. How many times had he watched his brother die? How many more could he bear? His hand snaked around to the back of Sam's neck as if on its own accord, and he pulled him in close until their foreheads met. "Together," he whispered thickly. "You hear me?"

Sam latched onto Dean's wrist. "Together."

That helpless feeling returned; that one he got every time Sam was hurting, or in trouble and he couldn't do anything about it. "Come here." Pulling him into his arms, he tried to convince himself that he was okay and that his arms could protect him from even Lucifer. "Sammy—"

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly against him.

"For what?"

"For bringing him here. For letting him bring me back."

The shame in Sam's voice nearly undid the fragile hold Dean had on his emotions. "No," he choked out hoarsely. "No, you don't apologize for coming back to me, Sam." He tucked him in closer. "I don't care if it's Lucifer, or both heaven and hell on your ass – you come back to me. You always come back to me, you hear? No matter what." They'd figure it out. They'd always figure it out; together. "You don't apologize for that," he stressed. "You never apologize for that."

It took a moment, but Sam nodded against him.

"You all right? I think that bastard left you a few pints low."

Again, Sam nodded. This time, though, Dean felt his fingers hitch onto the bottom of his jacket as he turned his face into Dean's neck with a sleepy sigh.

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked upwards softly—because for a moment, he could pretend that they weren't off in some post-apocalypse world, and Sammy hadn't just died and Lucifer wasn't right outside. For a moment Dean was just a big brother, and Sam was just his little brother, and they didn't have a world to save. Just for a moment. Just for once.

Closing his eyes, Dean held his brother a little tighter, and willed the truth to stay at bay.

Just for a moment.

The end.