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Sam’s looking at him again, like that, and Dean knows. Knows he can see right through him. All the walls, all the defences and barriers, everything protecting him isn’t enough anymore. It’s all for nothing. Because Sam can see. Sam can see the every motive burning behind Dean’s actions. He can hide none of it anymore, not from Sam.
And the thing that frightens him the most, that makes him quiver with terror, is that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to bury it, keep it away from Sam, not anymore. He wants Sam to know everything, to feel everything.
So when Sam’s eyes land on him, closely followed by his huge hands and warm touch, Dean doesn’t push him off like he knows he should, like a big brother should. He arches into it, begging for more, whining and whimpering like he would never admit. He knows words are coming from his mouth, words that don’t make sense and he knows Sam is smiling and crying and pressing against his neck.
He wants to comfort him. He wants to do all the things he’s ever sworn to do. Protect Sam! His mind screams at him and he trembles against the tilting and undulating world that threatens to steal it all away.
It seems to last a lifetime but the clock stubbornly insists that only forty-three minutes have passed. Not enough and too much and Dean knows that he can’t go back. Never go back. He doesn’t think he wants to. He wants to stay like this forever, wrapped up, safe, draped in Sam’s arms. He just doesn’t understand why, when he’s covered with Sam’s touch, why he still feels so naked.