Moving On (Destiel)

62: Today's visit is no forever

Sammy came first. But he didn't come early. It had been well over two months since they had caught him, three weeks since his fate had been sealed.

Dean was glad for it.

He had been patched up in the meantime – you could see no wounds of the severe beatings he had endured, and even though he hadn't been sleeping well lately, he had been, at least, so he didn't look like a ghost at last.

Sammy didn't look happy, however. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his forehead creasing with lines of concern and exhaustion, waiting for Dean to show up in the common visitor's hall. Dean took his time to settle down in a moment he wouldn't have liked to do anything other than rush towards his brother and enclose him in a firm embrace.

But that was not possible.

And he had to keep his face.

Not for his pride's sense, but for his own safety. There were other inmates in here he ate with on a daily basis. They were not supposed to see him vulnerable. His young age was a target big enough already, attention laying upon his love for his little brother was very much not needed.

Yet, he didn't fake indifference this time. He didn't take his eyes off his brother, took him in wholly, over and over. Sam seemed to do the same, but whatever he saw did not attribute to his calmness.

"Dean."

"Heya, Sammy." Dean cracked a smile, but it didn't reach his brother. "How... how're you?"

"I'm..." Sam sighed. "You really had to start it like that, didn't you?" He shook his head, exasperated, and made Dean wonder what he had done to provoke this reaction out of his brother not even a minute into their conversation.

"Start it like what?"

"Like- this. Don't you have anything more to say to me?"

Dean hesitated for a second there. "I'm sorry."

Sam didn't answer.

"Look, Sammy, I'm really, truly, deeply sorry. I never wanted it to be this way."

"What way?", Sam responded coldly, and Dean shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't his little brother as he knew him. Sure, Sammy might have his moods and all, judging Dean all the time, but he had never before acted this way. Never so... merciless.

Dean had only – only? – been away for two months. Yet, Sam was different. Changed. Dean couldn't tell if he liked it. But it wasn't like he could judge. If this was what Sam had to be like to deal with all of this, to proceed the sadness and the grief and the realization, then he could be all he wanted. Coping mechanisms never lasted on forever, right?

Sammy would be back to normal soon enough. Right now, he just let the anger get the better out of him, as he had every bloody right to.

"That me, in here." Dean made a vague, helpless gesture, searching Sam's eyes. They were hard, unforgiving. "You, out there. That was never the plan. Trust me when I sa-" He was interrupted by Sam's contemptuous snort and tried his best to cover how much that reaction alone hurt. "Well, then just... believe me. Please. Believe me when I say that this... here... never was the plan. And if there had been any choice – any, any other way – I would have gone it. I wouldn't have... if there had been another way."

"Castiel told me what happened."

Dean didn't miss how Sam hadn't responded to his pleads in any way. He waited for his little brother to go on, but he didn't. It made him nervous.

Sam never made him nervous before.

"So?"

"Nothing." Sam shrugged. "It just escapes my mind why."