Dean stopped before he entered the crappy door to the crappy apartment he was sharing with his-at this point of time-crappy brother. His hand was halted in his pocket, fingers curled around the keys, but he just couldn't make himself take them out, unlock the door and face his brother. Not after the argument they had just had. Not after Dean had made some excuse about needing food just to get away from his brother before he once again did something stupid. If he was honest, he was pretty crappy himself.

He might have been in hell, but he had had a purpose for it. And through his time, that had been the anchor for it.

But Sam, Sam might as well have been in his own hell, and he had had no anchor. And Dean got that, he really did. He couldn't picture a world without Sam in it. Wasn't that why he had sold his soul to buy his brother back?

But to come back to this, to find out what Sam had really been doing, hurt him more then any instrument of torture that had been inflicted on him.

And, there had been a hell of a lot of instruments, each with many ways to cause damage.

"This is stupid. Screw this," Dean muttered angrily as he pulled out his keys and jammed them in the lock, waiting for the click before kicking it open.

"Alright Sam listen-" He had taken two angry strides in when he had come to a complete halt. He had seen the snap of movement as Sam's head shot up, but it had really been the guilt that marred his brother's face that stopped Dean.

But no, not just guilt-something else...

Sam closed his laptop sharply, and let out a cough.

"Back already man?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he placed the bag of groceries on the crappy table before focusing his full attention onto his brother. His eyes narrowed into a glare as he jutted his chin at his laptop.

"Why? Did I interrupt something? Have you now started chatting via web to the whore just so I wouldn't know? Because I always find out Sammy. Shouldn't have gone to all the trouble." Sam flinched as if he'd been slapped, and glanced away from Dean, blinking furiously.

Shit-was the kid going to cry? Dean's expression softened marginally and he bit his lip, trying to strengthen his resolve. He hated seeing Sam cry, and more then anything hated being the cause of it. He walked over, and Sam glanced up at him, his expression now one of open panic. Dean stopped again, his brows raising now in concern.

Sam wasn't feeling guilty, he was feeling scared. Terrified, even.

"Alright Sam, start talking. What's going on?" Sam looked away again, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"It's nothing Dean."

"It's always something with you." Dean didn't mean that to come out as harsh as he did, so he wasn't surprised when Sam jerked his head to his direction again, his mouth puckered up in disbelief. Dean held up his hands as a peacemaker.

"Sorry, but when you're wearing that look, I know it's not nothing. So what is it?"

"Dean-"

"Cat got your tongue? Wait. Wait a second." Sam's eyebrows pulled up, and his bit his lip as he stared at his brother, waiting.

"Is this about fan fiction or something again?" Dean shot out. Sam coughed, and found he couldn't meet his brother's eyes anymore.

"Or something..." Dean's eyebrows shot up at the answer.

"Or something?"

"Or something." Sam nodded, knowing that Dean was waiting for him to elaborate but ignoring the hint.

Dean glared at him, gesturing to the laptop. Sam remained silent, still not meeting his eyes.

"Alright, guess it's the hard way. As always," Dean muttered under his breath, moving towards the laptop. He was thwarted by a hard push as Sam stood in front of him.

"Sam what the hell?" Dean regained his balance, looking up at his brother with an annoyed expression. Sam's shoulders were heaving, and his fists were balled into tight fists.

"Stop it, okay? Just stop!" If it wasn't for the anger, Dean would think that Sam sounded defeated. Maybe it was both, it was sure as hell what he felt most of the time these days.

"Stop with the snide remarks and the jibes, okay? I get it. But you don't! You don't know what it's like to be what I am. I didn't have a choice. So why not embrace it and use it?! Make some good come out of it?" Sam was holding his arms wide as he shouted, gesturing wildly around the room. Dean's face had drained of all annoyance and anger, biting down so hard on his lip he was surprised that he wasn't drawing blood. This argument always hurt him. It was the one the thing that caused a bridge between them, a bridge that grew every day, and Dean was tired of crossing it. But of course he would.

He always would.

"What you are? You're my little brother, Sam. It doesn't matter what the sonovabitch did to you. Okay? You have demon blood in you-but you know what dominates that? My blood. You also have my blood in you. So screw what the hunters say. They don't know you. I have known you since you were been born. I have raised you, watched you grow. I know your heart. You have always had a choice. Screw what the demons say. Screw what the angels say-where they have been? They certainly weren't there to stop what was being done to you when you were a baby." Dean swallowed, his throat dry, his voice almost shaking as he threw the words out over the lump in his throat. But Sam was listening, staring at him like he was twelve years old again and had all the answers, and God Dean had missed that look and trust.

"I know things have gone haywire. I know that the only reason you are doing this, is because you want something good to come out of it. You can't help what yellow eyes did to you. But now, choosing to drink it? That you can help. That you do get a choice in. And I get it. You had to do what you had to do while I was gone. Even though you promised me, right? Do you remember that? I can get past that. We can. But we have to do it together. You have to stop. Please Sam, please stop. I will never hunt you, I will never hurt you. Ever. How could I? You're my kid. I will never listen to the angels about you. We are in this together, like we always have been. Just you and me. And sure, Cas too when he's not being a dick. But you need to listen to me, brother. Please." Throughout the speech Dean had moved, and by the last few sentences he had grasped Sam's face in his two hands, looking him straight in his watering eyes. Sam found breathing hard against as he struggled with the weight of Dean's words-but at the same time, felt as if a huge pressure had been taken off. He felt as if he was coming up from underwater-he felt as if his anchor was really back. And Dean didn't realise how much he needed to say this, for himself and for Sam, because by the look of strong relief his brother was casting to him, Dean was once again put back into his role.

"Okay, Dean. Okay." Sam finally managed, and then wrapped his arms around his brother, not hesitating, not asking if it was okay. He knew it would always be okay with Dean.

Dean cupped the back of Sam's head, and his other arm snaked around his brother's waist, letting out a relieved small smile as they held each other.

"Hey, Sam?" He eventually said, pulling away so he could look his brother in the face.

"Mm?" Sam asked, sounding drowsy.

"Why'd you freak with the laptop?"

And Sam was suddenly looking wide awake. He should have known that Dean did not let things like that slide. Not when it came to Sam. So his brother let out a weary sigh and moved to the laptop.

"Before I show you...don't...just...I needed to see some of this." He said quietly, a faint red tinging his cheeks.

Sammy, blushing? Did Dean even want to know...?

Yes, yes he did.

"Okay, Sam." Dean nodded as he moved to his brother's side. Sam opened the laptop slowly, and Dean leaned forward, only to move back in surprise.

"You were worried because you were watching Youtube?" He peered closer at the screen, and his eyes widened again, his mouth dropping into a little 'o' in realisation.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered, and Sam scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Apparently these guys are us to the fans. And some of these videos are really good. Like, really good. I mean obviously the takes are fake and mushed together because well...it's not like our lives are being filmed right? But it's still good." Sam was whispering, playing with his hands now. Dean looked up at his brother again, and Sam gave him a small, tight smile.

How could Dean feel anything else but pleased? Pleased that Sam missed him, still had faith in their bond. Still wanted what he wanted-them to get past this shit together.

"Just as long as you don't watch the Wincest shit, Sammy." He clapped Sam's back with a snort.

"How the hell do you even pronounce that last name? Pad-alecki?" Dean openly laughed as he tested the name out. Sam scowled.

"Well at least that's the last name. What about your guy? Jensen?" That wiped the smug look off Dean's face.

"Huh. Dean's a much better name then Jensen. And Jared? Can't picture it Sammy." Sam didn't even bother to response, just rolled his eyes and shook his head with a sigh. Dean perked up again, and grabbed the mouse.

"Hey-is there any of me killing Ruby?"