Scarred
Originally posted by hoodieofcomfort at Scarred
Title: Scarred
Rating: PG
Pairing: Wincest
Word Count: 509
Warnings: None
Summary: Sam is sleeping next to Dean and Dean notices the scar on his brother’s back from when he was stabbed and killed.
Most nights, it was Dean who fell asleep first. Tired from the day, from everything they’d done, he would collapse on his bed and be asleep within seconds. Sam would putter around the motel room for a little bit, sit on his computer, watch his brother’s chest rise and fall, pull off his shoes and tuck him in before getting in his pajamas and crawling in bed himself. The only time this didn’t happen was when Dean and Sam decided they wanted to share a bed. Or, in some cases, needed to. Then it would be Sam who would fall asleep first. Dean would pretend to be asleep, until he heard his brother’s soft snores, then he would open his eyes and do what he couldn’t when his brother was awake: watch him be at peace.
It was one of these nights that Dean refound the old scar, the one that held so much more pain for him than it did his brother. Sam had rolled over on his side, facing away from Dean, so Dean had decided to rub his brother’s bare, muscled back. It was rare for either of them to sleep without a shirt. Dean used to do it all the time, but recently he’d taken to finding himself the most comfortable in just his clothes. The only time either of them slept without something over their torso was when they fell asleep next to each other after having sex.
Dean was reminiscing, thinking about the sex, a smile on his face. His fingers were trailing down his brother’s back, when he felt the damaged bit of tissue and he pulled away, wincing and flinching. Then, almost as quickly as he’d removed his fingers, he was putting them back, feeling the scar, wondering how such a small thing could cause him so much pain. To him it was a reminder of being unable to protect Sam, unable to protect himself and spare himself the agony that had been his forty years in hell. Of course, this was nothing compared to the time Sam had spent in the pit, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shuddering breath when he thought of the moment he’d realized that Sam was dead in his arms.
It took him over thirty minutes to stop his fingers from returning to the scar each time he forced them to move away and rub the rest of Sam’s back. When he finally did, he curled himself protectively around his brother, just as he had when they were children, hoping that somehow he could redeem himself for all of the mistakes he’d made. This was impossible, of course. He could never ever be forgiven for all of the times he’d failed Sam in the past, but he made himself believe in that moment that he could be and, as he fell asleep, he told his brother he was sorry over and over again, hoping that maybe, just maybe Sam would forgive him. What Dean would never know was that he already had.
Title: Scarred
Rating: PG
Pairing: Wincest
Word Count: 509
Warnings: None
Summary: Sam is sleeping next to Dean and Dean notices the scar on his brother’s back from when he was stabbed and killed.
Most nights, it was Dean who fell asleep first. Tired from the day, from everything they’d done, he would collapse on his bed and be asleep within seconds. Sam would putter around the motel room for a little bit, sit on his computer, watch his brother’s chest rise and fall, pull off his shoes and tuck him in before getting in his pajamas and crawling in bed himself. The only time this didn’t happen was when Dean and Sam decided they wanted to share a bed. Or, in some cases, needed to. Then it would be Sam who would fall asleep first. Dean would pretend to be asleep, until he heard his brother’s soft snores, then he would open his eyes and do what he couldn’t when his brother was awake: watch him be at peace.
It was one of these nights that Dean refound the old scar, the one that held so much more pain for him than it did his brother. Sam had rolled over on his side, facing away from Dean, so Dean had decided to rub his brother’s bare, muscled back. It was rare for either of them to sleep without a shirt. Dean used to do it all the time, but recently he’d taken to finding himself the most comfortable in just his clothes. The only time either of them slept without something over their torso was when they fell asleep next to each other after having sex.
Dean was reminiscing, thinking about the sex, a smile on his face. His fingers were trailing down his brother’s back, when he felt the damaged bit of tissue and he pulled away, wincing and flinching. Then, almost as quickly as he’d removed his fingers, he was putting them back, feeling the scar, wondering how such a small thing could cause him so much pain. To him it was a reminder of being unable to protect Sam, unable to protect himself and spare himself the agony that had been his forty years in hell. Of course, this was nothing compared to the time Sam had spent in the pit, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shuddering breath when he thought of the moment he’d realized that Sam was dead in his arms.
It took him over thirty minutes to stop his fingers from returning to the scar each time he forced them to move away and rub the rest of Sam’s back. When he finally did, he curled himself protectively around his brother, just as he had when they were children, hoping that somehow he could redeem himself for all of the mistakes he’d made. This was impossible, of course. He could never ever be forgiven for all of the times he’d failed Sam in the past, but he made himself believe in that moment that he could be and, as he fell asleep, he told his brother he was sorry over and over again, hoping that maybe, just maybe Sam would forgive him. What Dean would never know was that he already had.