These Broken Roads

The Kids Aren't Alright

The pitying sight that met Dean's eyes when he rounded the corner nearly broke his heart. Sam was scrunched in between two kitchen cabinets, his hands pressing so hard on his ears that Dean thought his head might burst. The worst part though was the tremors that racked Sam's body.

Dean took a few cautious steps toward his brother. He was close enough now to hear the steady stream coming from the younger man's mouth. Over and over and over he repeated the simple word.

"Nononononononononononononono!"

"Sammy?" Dean's voice broke through the flow of refusal. Now his brother was whimpering. A pitiful, horrible sound.
"Sammy, you gotta come back to me man." Dean was right by Sam's shaking form in the next moment. He reached out and placed a steady hand on Sam's knee. The shaking stopped. The whimpers quieted. Sam relaxed his hands on his ears almost imperceptibly. Dean couldn't help the small smile of pride that snaked its way onto face. Works every time.

"Heya, Sammy. Why don't you open your eyes for me?" It was only when Sam didn't respond except to scrunch his face up even more, that Dean realized the man's hands were still pressed tightly to his ears effectively blocking out any noise. Dean didn't want to think about what Sam was trying so hard not to hear. Instead, he reached up and did his best to pry Sam's hands away.
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At first, Sam was aware of nothing but the frightening sound of Lucifer's true voice yelling at him with such a terrible anger that it shocked Sam's body to the core.

All the way down, Lucifer screamed his rage at the lesser being. Even when Sam's body thumped onto the floor of the Cage, the fallen angel never stopped expressing how great his fury was. Cursing Sam, Lucifer took up his post next to Sam and punctuated his anger with kicks and punches.

The savage abuse soon made way for more precise torture, befitting of the devil. Sam resigned himself to the rack. Neither expecting nor thinking he deserved to be rescued.

The pain seemed to last for years and years, but after a while, something broke through. A comforting sensation. A touch that calmed Sam's panic and alleviated his pain. It was familiar and yet Sam did not know where it came from.

Another touch and now Sam could hear a voice. Just as amazing as the touch, it pulled Sam away from everything that hurt him. The pain, the torture, the anger, and the shame. All of it fading away to allow for reality.
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Dean relaxed just a little bit when Sam opened his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief when Sam didn't immediately freak out and continued that way.

"There he is," Dean praised. He gave Sam his best smile even though on the inside he felt like screaming. Dean shouldn't have to praise his brother for barely managing to open his eyes. Hadn't Sam been through enough? Didn't he deserve to rest too when something good finally happened to them?

"Dean." Cas caught his attention and nodded toward Sam's folded body. Sam's hands had loosened on his ears and now they were tangled in the hair on his bowed head. Then Dean realized that Sam was saying something. He leaned in closer to hear Sam's weak voice.

"-sorry. Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And that broke Dean's heart all over again. Here was his brother, suffering from trauma no one should ever have to endure and he was apologizing.

"What are you apologizing for, little brother?" Dean asked gently.

"I-I screwed up, De,"Oh, Dean thought. Sam was probably reliving a track of his greatest hits with Lucifer as the emcee.

"I know, buddy. Those weren't your best moments, huh?" Dean figured that Sam wasn't completely with it yet if his fluttering eyelids and stuttering speech were anything to go by.

"Yes," Cas added, "we know that the demon blood is one of your greatest regrets, Sam," There was Cas, trying and failing to help. Clearly, his stint as a human hadn't helped his people skills as much as they thought. Dean meant to turn and give Cas a pointed look but Sam spoke up and caught his attention before he could.

"N-no, no. It- it's you. It's you, Dean!" Sam was on the verge of panic now, his eyes wide, and his hands scrambling for purchase on Dean's shirt. They eventually latched on to what they were looking for. Dean was confused.

"What about me, Sammy? What're you talkin' about?" Sam's voice grew louder and more frantic as if he had only limited time to make Dean understand.

"It's you, Dean. You're my regret." Then Sam promptly passed out from the anxiety still straining his heart. Dean couldn't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes and he sat back in shock so quickly that it tore Sam's limp hand off his shirt.

Dean didn't know what to say. What are you supposed to say when someone says they regret knowing you. So he reverted to what he knew how to do best. He took care of Sammy.

"Okay, Sam, okay," He whispered to the unconscious man. "Let's get you back to bed, alright? C'mon." Dean hoisted his brother up off the floor and swung Sam's arm over his shoulder. Then the older brother helped the younger to his room on swaying feet.

Dean surveyed his sleeping brother from the doorway, his hand on the knob about to close it. Cas was an ever present comfort at his back. Silent but there, like always. Dean was still quiet from the shock of everything that had happened and that had been revealed that day. What was he even supposed to think now? Apparently Sam regretted being his brother. What did that mean? It certainly explained Sam's cold reaction earlier. Dean shook his head and closed the door, there was no telling what went on in Sam's oversized brain.
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Hours later, Dean had taken up vigil by his brother's bedside. He was on a chair that was far from comfortable, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees just staring at Sam.

"You're my regret, Dean."

Dean cringed at the memory clawing for purchase on his ravaged self image. Needless to say, Dean was desperate for any explanation. He wanted Sam to wake up and tell him that it had just been unconscious rambling. That he didn't regret ever knowing Dean. Unfortunately though, Dean could think of many times he had fit the bill for worst brother ever. It was him after all that had dragged Sam back into the life.

"'You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.'

'And who is that?'

'One of us"

None of this would have happened to Sam if he had just left him at Stanford.

"'I swore I was done hunting for good.'

'Come on, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.'"

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by Sam stirring. Finally waking up.
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Sam blinked. Once. Twice. He shifted on the bed taking stock of his body and it's surroundings. Images of the flashback sparked in his mind nearly paralyzing him with fear. So Sam looked before he moved. He hated the anxiety of not knowing if the devil would be sitting on his shoulder again.

When Sam's sweeping gaze met the expectant eyes of his older brother, not Lucifer though, he wanted to be relieved. Instead, Sam inwardly chastised himself for being so helpless again. He couldn't even stay sane for five minutes let alone make it back to his room by himself! Sam let the hope-draining wave of self-hate wash over him. He rolled away from his brother, facing the opposite wall.

A sigh from Dean and then: "Do you hate me, Sam?"