What would have happened after 10.3?
"What does Sammy have to say? Does he want a divorce?" How do you imagine the conversation between the brothers went after this?
"What'd Sam say? Does he want a divorce?" The words fell from the eldest Winchester's lips like acid, a certain pained feeling behind his brother's name. Raising a hand up he ran it over his face looking down to the floor as he shook his head, dropping his arm to his side in a way of saying 'you know what? Forget it'. It was always a Winchester thing to ask questions and not wait for an answer—why was this any different. Biting the inside of his cheek he ran his fingertips over the sheets on his bed, one thought popping into his head. "Drink," Dean mumbled spinning on his feet leaving his room, he made no effort to question where Castiel had disappeared off to. For Castiel knew how Dean felt about Sam.
The angel had known for a while now, and it was a wonder why he hadn't told Sam himself. Dean assumed it was out of respect or maybe the angel felt too awkward over the subject of love. Hell, Dean felt awkward over the subject of love but here he was in love—WITH his baby brother. It was almost enough to make him groan in frustration at times, Sam was enough to draw his attention off the road at times. Off the food Dean had been eating, Sam was even driving his attention away from his 'fun time'. Of course Dean didn't think it was too bad, most of the time it was the simple things. Sam smiling, the dimples forming as he did, or even just watching his little brother tuck hair behind his ears. It just made his day better knowing Sam was safe.
But he fucked up. He fucked up big time after he had taken this mark, ever since he took the burden he could feel himself fading. Feel the rage that came with the package, and with that Dean felt that love he felt for Sam being tugged away. Further and further, it was hard not to fall back on what this mark was feeding into.
Anger. It fed on his anger and everyone knew Dean Winchester had quite the temper at times. This worsened and the mark came into full effect after the shades of hell were gifted to him from Metatron. Dean shuddered at the thought; but at the same time what really was he shuddering about? Being a demon was like being a completely different person, being stripped of those all so familiar human emotions, being dehumanized. Though Dean knew some demons were different, some actually did show some care behind their words. But Dean was nothing but rage, rage and hatred, hatred that Sam had brought back to the bunker to cure.
Cain did mention how his story had ended with his brother—his brother dead while he stood victor. Dean swore he would NOT do the same. Sam was his world and he would happily die for him just for Sam to have a normal life. He swore he would never hurt him.
Dean remembered waking up in that creaky old chair in the torture chamber, the light overhead flickering, a tall lanky shadow standing before him. Before his eyes even had time to focus on the shadow he knew it was Sam, no one else was crazy enough to capture him as a demon and try. His head rolled back, eyes flickering from side to side, “S-Sammy..?” The male breathed, his eyes finally focused on his little brother.
Right away Dean knew he fucked up. The look in Sam’s eyes read like a historic library, he was hurt, he was angry, he was...happy? Did Dean deserve this happiness after all this? After all this...chaos and destruction? Already he could feel his stomach turn wondering just how many people he had killed, how many innocents. How many horrible things he had done? It was a mind crushing thought, one he couldn’t worry about at the moment. “I’ll...uh...get cleaning up.” Dean heard Sam awkwardly announce, moving over to the table and began putting things away. The eldest Winchester took note of how Sam’s jaw clenched and he slightly ground his teeth—Sam was nervous? “Get me when he’s ready.” Sam muttered to the angel Castiel, tucking a book under his arm and left the torture chamber without another word.
Dean nearly shook himself awake from the memory, his hand against the wall bracing himself. Telling himself to get himself together, clenching his jaw he pushed off the wall running his hand over his beard. The thought occurred to him he hadn’t shaved in quite a bit of time, maybe he’d do it later. Maybe not. Swallowing all amount of anxiety Dean pushed the bedroom door open to Sam’s room, “Sammy?” He cleared his throat slowly walking in.
There was a slight shuffling and the sound of papers, there Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed. Putting away countless of papers and god knew what else, his room was a mess which was highly unlike the young Winchester. Dean’s eyes scanned the room taking in the mess, frowning worriedly—but this wasn’t why he was there. “I needed to...uhh talk to you about....you know. The thing that happened.”
Only if Dean could see his little brother’s face that was hidden away under that long dark hair, but he could see Sam’s lips straighten. The young Winchester straightened up where he sat tossing his head up brushing the hair from his face, “Dean...” He started, “We really—“
Dean stepped towards him, “No, we really do, Sam. This isn’t something you can brush off like some bad sunburn. This is big, like Jurassic park one sort of big.” He grew silent licking his lips looking back to the floor, wishing sometime in his life he would stop comparing things. This wasn’t the time nor the place. That’s when Sam shifted on the bed slightly sitting back propping himself on his hands, head tilted.
“Alright, let’s talk about it. You were killed by Metatron and became a demon. You and Crowley were BFF’s, oh...and you tried to kill me.” By the end of Sam’s tiny rant he was standing up standing in front of Dean, it was clear to both of them that Sam was tired. He was tired mentally and psychically, the male needed sleep. Sam took another step towards his brother grabbing his wrist and flipped it over pointing at the mark, “This thing. We are going to find a way to get rid of it. I don’t want to lose you again, Dean. I don’t know if next time I’ll be able to do what I did today.” His grip had tightened on Dean’s wrist, running a thumb over the smooth skin.
Dean looked down at Sam’s hand, “I hurt you, didn’t I? As a demon.”
Sam sighed, his grip loosened on Dean’s wrist letting it fall, “You were a demon, Dean. And I knew it wasn’t you,” It was a little of a lie, Sam knew the demon side of Dean was nothing but what rage his brother had built inside. And it was ALOT. A scary amount actually. “You didn’t get anywhere. I’m still standing here.”
Did that mean Sam forgave him? Forgave him for all this chaos he had caused. Hell, Dean would have forgiven Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam.” Dean said in a hushed tone, staring over his brother’s face for any sort of reaction. When he got none he spoke again, “This cure thing for the mark. We do it together, alright?”
Sam simply nodded giving his brother a small warm smile, reaching out pulling him into a loose hug. “Yeah, together.”
As Dean pulled back he smiled, not one of his usual smiles, but this one was hopeful. All Dean needed was Sam at his side and he wouldn’t exchanged the world for that. “Does this mean we aren’t getting a divorce?”
