Dean stared down at the unconscious small person in his hands. Jesslyn was collapsed against his chest. It had been a hard fight against the demon. They had only won because of the angel calling himself Castiel. The angel of the Lord stood before him, quiet and watching.

"He jumped on the demon and tried to stop him. He didn't even know any exorcism spells but he jumped right in. And got swatted across the room for his troubles." The Borrower was barely breathing. He was already showing signs of bruising where his skin was exposed. "He had this stupidly tiny knife that he stabbed into the thing's neck, as if that would make any sort of difference."

"He was brave," Castiel said solemnly.

"He was stupid!" Dean snapped. "Jesslyn is the one who takes care of him. She's the one who feeds him and cares for him and talks to him. Why the hell would he try to save me? I've never done a damn thing for him."

Castiel looked at him with an inscrutable expression. "Because he loves you."

"Why?! I'm nothing to him!" Dean trembled with exhaustion. 

Castiel gave him that same look once more. "You are his brother." 

That simple statement shocked Dean into silence before he growled back. "My brother died eighteen years ago in a crappy motel. He was killed by a witch. We never found her." That was his greatest failure, his dad always told him, letting his brother die and not avenging him.

Castiel was wholly unmoved by the force of Dean's response. He gave the man a moment before speaking again. "No. He was not killed. He was cursed to live at four inches tall. He was rescued by a family of small folk that lived in the walls of the hotel. He was raised as one of them. He lived there. Until you found him and took him with you."

Dean stared at Castiel. Then he stared at the person in his hand. This, this really was Sam? It wasn't some monster or a spy for one? Guilt flooded him anew. He was awash with it; drowning in it. This was the brother he had mourned, had left for dead and he had treated him like nothing. He had treated him as less than human.

He choked on the guilt and the bile that rose at the thought of what Sam had been through all those years and in the past few months with him. He had been in a car wreck, through multiple hunts and had been relegated to a tank for most of that time. Said tank was still sitting in the back of the Impala, a threat to the small human of what would happen if he didn't follow every order. 

Dean was going to destroy it the first chance he got.

"Sam..." That simple word broke open a wellspring inside of him. Tears he had never shed for his brother flooded him and flooded his face. He sobbed and clutched the tiny person to his chest, aching inside with the pain of grief and joy all mixed into one. "I'm so sorry," he cried. "So sorry." 

Sam didn't move. 

Dean pulled his hand away and nudged the small person. "Sam. Wake up. Sammie, come on. Wake up and talk to me." Images of what had happened to the small would-be hunter flashed in front of him. A feminine hand throwing him across the room. His tiny body colliding with wall, falling to the floor. He was bruised and bloody and probably broken in an uncountable number of places.

Dean looked to Castiel, hope and desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, help him. Heal him." He held his hand out, offering Sam to the angel.

Jesslyn sat back and watched, listening silently. This wasn't for her to intervene with. This was not her moment to speak. If Dean opened up to the Borrower, that was his choice. She would stand by him either way.

Castiel looked down at the small, cursed human in Dean's hands. He studied him for a minute, noting how terrible the person looked. "Would it not be better to let him die so he is no longer cursed?" he asked. His voice was utterly flat and emotionless.

Dean raged. "No it would not! He is my brother and I am not going to screw this up again. Heal him, dammit!"

Castiel looked back at the tiny man. He held one hand out over the small person. A soft glow emanated from his palm, encompassing Sam. The angel looked back to Dean. "He is very injured--"

"I don't care!" Dean snapped. "Heal him."

Castiel stared at Dean for a minute before turning his attention back to Sam. The glow encompassed the cursed human again. 

Jesslyn gave a tired chuckle as she relaxed against Dean's broad chest. "You're such a dumbass. I'm supposed to be the sucker for happy endings."

Dean looked back to her, brow arched. "And you knew this whole time?"

"No. Not the whole time. But I figured the little guy was telling the truth about a week or so ago. He was muttering stuff in his sleep that only a sibling would know. Plus anyone who is willing to stick around you for too long has to be either crazy or family." She grinned up at him.

Dean grunted. "Then what does that make you?"

"A little bit of both at this point," she said with a shrug. 

The glow of Castiel's healing faded and he pulled his hand away. Before Dean could ask what he was doing and demand that he continue healing Sam, the cursed human heaved a desperate gasp of air, coughed a few times before stirring. He pushed himself up on his arms, looked around then looked to Dean. The facial expression of the man was completely different than what he had come to know over the last few months.

Before he could react, he was crushed against the man's chest, the open spot where Jesslyn wasn't, in a facsimile of a hug. "Wha-what?" he stuttered.

"I'm so sorry." It was Dean's voice. But it wasn't strong and stern and full of anger. It was whispered and full of pain and regret and sorrow.

"For what?" Sam asked. He wasn't quite sure how to process this change or what it meant.

"For doubting you. For leaving you behind. For trapping you. For putting you in a tank. For everything." His tone was earnest, pleading for forgiveness. 

It dawned on Sam at that point that Dean finally realized and accepted who he was. The cursed human smiled and leaned into the hug, returning the affection as much as he possibly could. "I forgive you. Just as long as you don't leave me behind again."

"I won't. I promise." Sam could tell the truth in those words. Warmth flooded him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the healing he had just received. 

"Good." He just lay there, soaking up all the affection his brother would give. He had missed this. He wasn't going to squander it by breaking up the moment.

"Hate to be the one to break up the family reunion," Jesslyn said a while later. "But we should leave. We caused a bit of a ruckus here. No telling who will come poking their nose into our business."

Dean reluctantly eased Sam away. "Right." He looked around to thank the angel for healing his brother, but Castiel was already gone. Figures. The celestial being was flighty like that. He let go of Jesslyn and stood to his feet before helping her to hers. They made their way outside, with Jesslyn hobbling and Dean supporting her, and to the car. She sank into the front seat of the Impala with a delighted groan. 

"I'm never moving again," she declared. "I will live and die in this seat."

Dean rolled his eyes. He kept Sam tucked close to him as he opened the back door and grabbed the tank that Sam had been forced to live in for a while. With a mighty heave, he tossed it across the parking lot. The glass enclosure flew for several feet before it collided with the ground and shattered everywhere.

Sam smiled. That was as confirming a sign as Dean's words that he had finally been accepted as real. Life was going to be good from now on. He just knew it.