Dean (jumping back, hands up in reaction to Sam’s pointed gun): Whoa! Whoa!
Sam (near tears): I was with you. It was you, Dean!
Dean: Okay, here I am.
Sam: I can’t know that for sure!
Dean: Okay, we’ll start small.
Hallucifer teases that Sam is highly suggestible and Sam shoots at his image causing Dean to jerk violently in response.
Dean: Whoa! Whoa!
Sam is shaking; the gun is shaking, but is pointed at Dean.
Dean (sounding for all the world like a Marine Drill Sergeant): This discussion does not require a weapons discharge!
*OMG I LOVE THAT LINE*
Sam is breathing hard, visibly working to bring himself under control. He tries to put the gun down, but only succeeds in lowering it.
Dean: Look at me. C’mon. You don’t know what’s real? Man, I’ve been to Hell. I know a thing or two about torture.
*lump in throat*
Dean: Enough to know that it feels different than the pain of this…regular…stupid crappy…this.
Sam: How can you know that for sure?
Dean: Let me see your hand.
Hallucifer, standing behind Dean, calls him Florence Nightingale. But then Dean grabs Sam’s wounded hand.
Dean: This is real. Not a year ago. Not in Hell. Now. I was with you when you cut it. I sewed it up.
He twists it, pressing his thumb into the wound, making it bleed. Sam hisses in pain, bringing up the gun. Dean grabs it with his other hand, pressing harder into Sam’s wound. Hallucifer flickers. Gaelic bites her lip.
Hallucifer: We’ve done a lot more with pain.
Dean: This is different than the thing that’s tearing at your walnut. I’m different. Right?
Sam’s eyes are wet, he’s so near tears I wanted to just cry for him. My chest was tight with tears for the both of them. Dean’s looking at his brother, his eyes bouncing all over Sam’s face, hungry for something, some sign that he’s getting through.
Sam nods shakily, continuing to press into the wound himself as he sees Hallucifer flicker again.
Dean: Sam, I am your flesh and blood brother. I am the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy. Believe in that. You gotta believe in that. Make it Stone Number One and build on it.
Sam is shaking, eyes wet. *wants to hug him*
My eyes are burning. The belief that filled up Dean’s words, the way Dean fought for his brother, to bring him off the ledge, bring him back…this is why he’s my hero. Because after everything, after all they’ve been through, he can’t give up on his brother. He won’t. Just like he said when Lucifer!Sam was beating the hell out of him – “Sammy…it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not gonna leave you.”
And he means it. *rubs heart* Gah, these guys. These guys are gonna be the end of me.
But I wonder…was it the pain of pressing on that wound, or something about the wound itself that cause Sam to get a grip and Hallucifer to flicker? The glass he cut his hand on had the blood from the Crack Open Purgatory spell on it…I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something about that blood that was…I don’t know…enhancing the crazy. ‘Cause if that’s the case, maybe that’s a hallucination solution.
And if it was the pain that was doing it…that worries me a bit, too, because will that mean Sam will need to use physical pain all the time to snap him out of it, remind him what’s real? Not sure I like that idea…just like Dean’s drinking, Sam hurting himself to get balance would slowly kill him anyway.
I’ll have to ponder further and keep watching.
Anyway, Bobby calls Sam’s phone and Sam answers and I was all what, now? don’t you, like, need a tissue or something? a hug? how do you have it together enough to answer the phone?!
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