I got this idea because winter started driving me insane, cabin fever has settled in much too soon. I want a warm summer evening with a thunderstorm…right now. What makes it better? Adding a sad Sam and hurt Dean, that's what!

A big thanks to the wonderful Kender Rock My World for Betaing this story, she did an awesome job and I can't thank her enough. You should do so by checking out her amazing stories!

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Sam was tired. He was exhausted, really—days had turned to weeks, weeks had turned to months and still he had found no way to get his brother out of the deal that would pull his soul into the depths of hell.

So now Sam sat in a chair in the run down motel room, a bottle of whiskey hanging from his fingertips as he glared through blurred vision at the puke-yellow wallpaper before him.

He wondered why people would choose such a color. It was gross and repulsive and it really made him want to leave, but that would require energy he didn't have. It made the upper corner of his lip sneer, his brow crinkle together in displeasure as the thought of regurgitating the color crossed his mind.

Tearing his eyes to the floor, he tried to stop the depression that already blanketed his mind, but the darkness of the room that met his eyes carried him further into sorrow. He took another swig of the whiskey, its warmth bringing him no well-needed comfort.

The door opened quickly, spilling the light of the setting sun on his back before quickly closing and returning the room to its bitter darkness. He heard the footsteps, the mumbles of annoyance and concern, and for once in his life he didn't care that his brother would be pissed at him. At least he HAD a brother to be pissed at him. That wouldn't be possible in a few months--soon he wouldn't have anyone.

A light flicked on, much too quickly, and although dull and yellowed, it stung his sensitive eyes.

"So, the convenience store didn't carry any peanut m&m's, how it's possible to run out I'm not sure, rat bastards. But I got regular ones instead, and a twinkie for you…Why does it smell like liquor and feet in here?" Sam could hear Dean putting things away as a plastic bag crinkled, then he came into his view.

Dean caught sight of the bottle of Whiskey hanging from Sam's fingertips, his eyebrows rose in surprise and confusion.

"O.K…that explains the liquor smell, not so much the feet though…" Dean watched Sam, when no reaction came, worry and anger began to surface.

He looked up, his neck and back aching from his hunched position, then met his brother's angry eyes.

"Sammy, what the hell are ya doin'?" Dean's voice was rough and tainted with anger, just like Sam knew it would be.

He always knew how his brother would react, knew what he was going to do, knew the tone he would use though sometimes Dean would throw him for a loop and leave him lost and confused. Those times seemed to be becoming more often as Dean's time on earth shortened.

"Well, Sam, wanna explain to me why you're drinking while we're on a job?" Dean sat down on the bed diagonal from the chair sat in, his gaze trying to catch Sam's.

"Because I'm done, Dean," Sam voice rasped out, dry despite the liquid that had just trailed down his throat.

"Don't know if you noticed, Sam, but we have yet to salt and burn us some bones, so no, we're not quite done." He shifted on the bed, the springs screeching in protest at his movement.

"No, Dean, I'm done…with this." Sam looked at the dirty carpet, trying to avoid his brother's gaze.

Dean glared at him with anger, but just below it lay sympathy and hurt.

"Oh, this is about me, is it? This is about you trying to find a way out of deal that has no way out. Sam…"

"No, Dean! Don't tell me how I have to just stop and accept this! You're going to Hell in a few months, Dean! Hell! The place we send demons, the place that everything terrible is compared to, the place where Dad went! Then your…your body is gonna be here, for me to burn, everything you were, it's going to be gone and dead…just like you…"

Sam met his brother's eyes for the first time. They were glazed with not only drunkenness, but an unbearable pain that struck Dean harder then ever before, more then he thought possible.

"Not everything, Sammy." His voice cracked more than he'd like, glistened with the slightest hint that all he wanted to do was let his emotions go, just lay down and cry.

Sam gave him a questioning look, his brow knitted, nostrils flared and lips pressed tightly together in a look that only Sam could pull off.

"What?"

"I'll have left behind one good thing in this world, Sam…you." Dean tore his gaze away, his feelings unsure as he continued on.

"I'm your big brother, Sam, and I've always tried to look out for you, teach you, make you the best you can be. When I leave this world, though, Sam, I'll just be happy knowing you're still in it over me, 'cause a lot of good is gonna come from you, and this place needs it."

They sat in silence, the last spoken sentence lingering in their minds. A tear slid down Sam's cheek, the image of his brother dying not being able to leave his mind, the thought twisting his gut in terrible pain.

Dean looked up, his heart clenching as his brother broke down before him. He never thought when he took this deal that it would cause this much pain, this much torture. His life had been about making sure Sam stayed out of harm's way, was never in pain or despair. It tore him apart inside that he was now the source of it, that now he was causing Sam so much grief, it made him wish he could make it all go away.

"Sam, please just…"

"I can't, Dean…I can't go on every day knowing you're going to die, I have to do something. I just…I just wish I could do something…" Sam rose on unstable legs and went to grab his coat, his long legs swaying uneasily under his weight.

"Sam, where the hell are you goin'?" Dean stood and grabbed his brother's shoulder.

"Dunno…I need to get some air." Sam shrugged it off and leaned into the door, trying to escape the musty room.

Dean went to say something, but instead let his hand fall back to his side as he turned around, not wanting to look at his brother again. He hung his head as he heard Sam leave, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He was going to die and Sam was going to be all alone in this world. That thought itself caused more torture then any Hell could ever dream of achieving.

Sam walked down the stretch of concrete sidewalk that ran beside the motel rooms, his shoes scraped the dry surface with an uneasy shuffle. A warm breeze brushed his hair into his eyes, the soft strands drying the fresh tears that were falling.

The soft wind picked up, the scent of rain on a summer evening easing the pain in Sam's mind. A soft creaking of an old wooden swing invited him to come and sit, and raising his gaze, he found it swaying easily at the end of the building. Sighing, he sat on the stiff wood, its rusted chains groaning in protest as he settled roughly onto it.

He looked to the sky, the sun setting off in the distance with rain clouds of reds, yellows, oranges, greens and blues all splashing lavishly around the burning orb.

He took in a deep breath, the evening air starting to clear his hazed mind, and with it the thoughts of Dean and his deal returning.

He looked to the sky, the reflection of the glorious sunset shining against his hazel eyes. He thought of God, if He was real, and how this evening seemed to be painted by the being's own hands.

"Don't try and apologize with a nice sunset, it won't work…" Sam whispered, now wishing he had the bottle of whiskey to sip from as he spoke to the force that he didn't even know existed. The bottle would have made it more believable.

"I want to believe you're there, but how can I when this crap happens? I just don't understand how you can let someone like Dean, like my Dad, rot in hell when they were just trying to save someone they loved…I just…" His voice cracked and he looked back down, the tears threatening to fall once again.

Sam sat there for a while, the crickets chirping around him, tree frogs singing off in the distance and the world carrying on around him, even though he didn't think it should.

He heard heavy footfalls nearing him, the undeniable sound of Dean's boots against cement just as the last bit of the sun was setting behind the landscape. He didn't look up as he felt his brother's presence. For a moment Dean paused, then settled next to Sam, making the swing sway uneasily beneath them.

Silence settled between them until the soft pitter patter of rain filled it, the pings of water a relief to exhausted souls.

Sam sat up slowly, leaning his back against the curve of the swing, Dean sitting next to him, staring out at the landscape before them. They sat in darkness, the pure calmness of the evening filling their minds with a sense of temporary relief. For once the anxious knives didn't twist their guts, the hunt didn't tear at their backs.

They swung lightly, their feet working in sync to keep the rhythm of the sway in motion. The memories of childhood misted their minds, those years ago when Dean had to do all the work because Sammy's legs were too short. The days when Dean had come out on evenings like this to find his teenage brother brooding because of their fathers' style of life. They said nothing, only sat in the soft evening light that was fading away, the memories taking them to another place, a place they wished they could return to.

Lighting lit up the sky, and a distant rumble followed, the light dancing on the brothers' eyes as they watched. Fireflies began to drift lazily from hiding, trying to avoid the large drops of rain that fell easily from the sky, some succeeding while others failed. Leaves swished in the breeze, the long field grass danced with the wind and the rain continued to gently fall.

To any passerby the scene would have seemed boring, plain and unnoticeable. Two guys, sitting on a swing, staring out at the summer thunderstorm before them without speaking.

To Sam and Dean though, it was much more then that. It was a moment in time that they had each other. It was one more minute Sam had with Dean, and those were counting down much too quickly. One more memory Dean could hold onto, one more thing he could keep tucked away forever in the back of his mind.

The brothers silently wished that this moment could last forever, that another morning would never come and that they could remain forever on this swing, enjoying the evening that surrounded them.

But wishes never came true for Winchesters.