pathossam:

Summary: After the events of Red Meat (11×17), Sam finds out that Dean lied to him about what he did when he thought Sam was dead. Dean offers the truth in a way that changes them forever. 8.5k words. Explicit.

Sam groans heartily through his nose, squirming in his bed as he tries to find a comfortable position. He hates to admit that Dean is right about his mattress, but the thing is like a brick, pushing rudely up against his tailbone as he tries to sink into it. He can’t lie all the way down, either, because– well. Because he’s in a considerable amount of pain, despite the good stuff they gave him at the hospital. The pain is nothing, though, comparatively, because he’s supposed to be dead. He should be dead, floating aimlessly in the great big Empty, thanks to the gut-shot delivered by Murderous Werewolf number 3, and his ability to aim with deadly accuracy. Instead, that werewolf is dead, and Sam is miraculously, unbelievably alive.

Sam closes his eyes, flashes of Dean’s face imprinted on the back of his eyelids, laughing as he dug the bullet out of his little brother’s spilled guts. Dean had tried to smile and joke through it, tried to keep Sam’s blood pressure from skyrocketing in panic so the red-hot liquid wouldn’t pour out of the wound any faster than it already was, but Sam could see the truth, the fear in Dean’s eyes. The crystal-green was so bright, shining with the horrified tears Dean was holding back, because they both knew how dangerous it was for a bullet to enter where it did. They both knew that it would take a miracle for Sam not to bleed out, right there on that cold floor in the middle of nowhere.

But, well. Dean is a damned miracle in and of himself, so it’s no small wonder Sam walked (crawled, stumbled) away from that place.

Read the rest on Ao3 here.