A/N: This isn't my normal style. This isn't my normal work. This isn't how I usually portray the characters. You can thank my crazy Yoda-style guru for pushing me into writing this. She thinks I'm crazy for writing emotional-filled pieces about death and all things dark. Well, she's right, but since I am crazy, I have to throw her off my scent by giving her a broader trail to track. ;D So here's my first ever dark-humor piece. Please review!

It seemed Sam had finally found the trigger for an attempt at long term depression. He had managed to just be eerily dark after Jessica's death, but no slit-your-wrists-in-the-dark sort of behavior (Dean was most grateful and thanked God for that). He always managed to somehow be humorous when he did have his bouts of sadness- like the time he got drunk after Ava's dissapearance. Dean knew the truth- Sam may be one of the most depressive creatures that thrived on Lifetime-style moments, but he had no clue how to brood appropriately. Most people who brooded constantly and did so professionally rarely ended up puking their guts out over an antique toilet after a few shots of tequila.

A week after Madison's death, Sam proved to Dean yet again how tragically incapable he was at sustaining clinical depression for any great period of time.

He was sprawled out on a twin bed- a pathetic sight, especially when you considered his gangling limbs and how they hung off the bed at every opportune angle. Dean thought for a moment that he might just look like one of those dead Shakespeare freaks- the ones in the pictures his one of his most obsessed English teachers had shared with his class.

But only for a moment.

But that moment was enough- he knew.

Sam was going to put him through the biggest chick-flick moment of their lives. And- so help me, God- the only way to avoid it would to be killing Sammy, and since that was one of the things that had the kid depressed in the first place- well, it just didn't seem like a smart idea, for some reason.

"I brought some food," he said, holding up the greasy bag.

There. A totally neutral topic. There was no emotional value to a double cheeseburger and fries- nothing that Sam could latch onto to create a chaotic emotional setting.

"I'm not really that hungry."

Dean sighed, dropping the bag onto the table next to the laptop. Awkward conversation versus silence...well, the one-way chatter always won. "Find anything?"

Sam finally managed to sit up- or at least, tried to. He rested on his elbows, looking at Dean with what he must have believed to be a look of weariness and utter defeat. To Dean, it just looked like a bad case of indigestion.

"Any what?"

"Hunts. You know, what we do, when you're not holed up in some motel room, peering out of rainy windows."

Sam gave him a look of venom- well, at least his evil looks were more in tune then his sad ones. "I haven't been looking," he snapped.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever, dude. But we've gotta ditch this town soon- I'm going out of my mind here. The only place I want to stay for over a week with nothing but time to waste is Vegas. And in case you haven't noticed, Vegas is on the other side of the country."

"So find some bar and have sex with some trashy girl. That's what you normally do."

"You're festering."


"Yeah, dude- festering. Alright, so that means we need to-"

"You actually know what that means?"

Dean could feel his annoyance reaching a high pitch. Christ- he was trying to help Sam. It was two different things for Sam to act like a smartass and for Dean to do the same- mainly because Dean was a smart ass, and Sammy was just a pain in the ass.

"Cute," smirked Dean. Because, God, when in doubt, smirk. It tended to tone down the seriousness a bit. "But I'm the one bringing in the big bucks for food, motel rooms, and all that crap. So if I go, you either get to camp out in some creepy alley, or you can tag along and be a pain in the ass."

Yep. Sam's really dirty looks were definitely in working order and fully opperational, but hardly sustaining the usual energy. He eased himself back down onto the pillows, the dangerous flash in his eyes fading out to defeat.

"Look, Sammy-" Dean softened immedietely, realizing his efforts to snap his brother out of it were kinda shoving him right back down the hole. If Sam needed to be emo, well, fine, Dean could play nice and do a Lifetime moment for the sake of his brother. "I know that whole thing with Madison-"

Sam kept a stony silence, staring blankly at the cealing.

Geez, Sam wasn't biting onto a potential chick flick moment?

Huh. Maybe Dean could deal with his pitiful behavior more often, if this was to be the results it reaped...he could deal with peace and quiet- well, with loud music he could...but dammit. He'd be damned if he were to ever leave his brother in need.

"Man, you've gotta snap out of it. Are you listening to me? You've gotta pull yourself together, dude."

Sam just stared at him.

So much for helping a brother in need...

"Eh, go get on your damn computer, see if you can find a hunt..."

-------------------Thirty Minutes Later-------------------

"Sam, what the hell are you looking at?"

He had been watching amused expressions occasionally coupled with looks of disbelief flicker across his brothers face for the past ten minutes in silence. At first, he figured Sam had just found a few of his favorite pornography sites, tucked away in Dean's share of the favorites folders. Then he realized that, though he had seen porn elict some pretty bizarre responses, hysterical laughter was not one that was typically expected of a "mature" twenty-three year old. And all though Dean knew better than to think for a second that Sam was completely mature (or completely sane for that matter), he was smart enough to know his little brother wouldn't burst out into a fit of giggles over a couple of naked ladies.

Because who had taught him about girls in the first place? The guy couldn't be all that worthless.

When he realized that Sam hardly had the breath to continue his ceaseless laughter, and much less capable of coherent speech, he was forced to get off from his perfectly comfortable possition on the bed to stoop down in order to see what the hell had his brother's sanity cracked.

And he saw quite quickly.


A Matter of Life and Death

"What the hell?"

"Exactly," blurted out Sam. "You gotta read this-"

"I'm not sure what's more disturbing," admitted Dean. "That woman or you reading a suicide site..."

Sam took a deep breath, steadying himself, before he began to read; "Here is a cup of pills with the power of life and death. What would you like these pills to do for you?" He paused dramatically, cocking his head at Dean. "Maybe you want to take them to die?"

"She's on crack," said Dean, sinking down into the chair and gaping at the screen. "Keep reading."

" 'These are some of the pills I take every day to save my life. They're not herbs or antidepressants'- Haha, yeah, lady, we already figured that one out...'I feel happy, I feel pretty good, I feel normal-"

"God, lock those damn things up."

Sam continued to read out loud, breathless with the strain to keep his laughter under control. By the time he finished, both hunters were fighting off laughter. Dean had compromised himself with a large smirk, but

Dean levelled his gaze to his little brother, holding his eyes seriously. "You have a chance right now to start your life over instead of trying to end it, Sammy," he told him gravely.

Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "I promise you, Dean," he said before chuckling and snapping the laptop shut.

Eh- so Sam sucked at being appropriately depressed. But at least he didn't suck as bad at pulling himself out of it.