As always- I own nothing, never will. And of course any reviews are always appreciated.

"SIT DOWN SAM. We need to talk."

Sam nods but instead of taking a seat he turns away. For all the times in the past that he's wished Dean would have said those words now is not one of those times.

"Please Sam just talk to me."

Sam's head hangs low as he takes a shallow breath in. The whole situation is spiralling completely out of hand. In the past few weeks he hasn't been able to stop the thoughts that rush into his head-, he doesn't want to think anymore. There are too many feelings that rise to the surface when he thinks and for the most part they only consist of pain.

The problem is that no matter how much as he wants to walk out the door right now he won't. Maybe it's because Dean deserves more than that.

Even if the heated words they are sure to exchange leaves Sam hurting more than he can bear. But the real truth is Dean's not going to let him get away with walking out the door, not this time. And to be completely honest he doesn't have the energy to drag himself any further than the doorway as it is.

Sighing reluctantly he turns to face an older brother who despite everything he is, Sam knows, he isn't enough to save him this time.

In a gesture to placate his brother Sam offers a solemn smile and takes a seat across from him on the empty hotel mattress. As he looks up Dean offers a small smile in return, but all Sam can feel is the stinging of sorrow that radiates from Deans emerald green eyes.

"PLEASE SAM JUST TALK TO ME." Dean's voice is soft and low the second time around. He's trying his hardest not to push Sam away. Trying his best to have conversation steeped in emotion, a conversation he's been trying so hard to keep locked away. He wishes he could've been a better brother this past year. He's sorry he's never been good at expressing any kind of emotion beyond frustration and anger, and he has a disturbing feeling that if he would have tried a little bit harder Sam might not be where he is today.

He knows his brother better than anyone. And the way Sam's eyes have turned to a lifeless gray is terrifying. Sam won't forgive himself for the past, he can't seem to move on, and Dean knows something's going to happen. Any anger he has at what Sam has done or become in the past is going to have to wait. Between the lines of fear and blame he searches out to comfort his little brother.

Sam needs to hear what he has to say.

STRAIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM, behind Dean, is a large picture window and through it Sam watches a bird swoop down to land on a tree that is in full bloom. The sun is shining sending brilliant yellow streams through the dark green leaves of summer. Somewhere in his mind he flashes back to a time when summer held a different meaning.

His thoughts lost only as he hears the sound of Deans voice directed straight at him.

Dean's words are like the soft drumming of rain on a roof top, they are calm but so muddled together he can't hear them individually. His focus shifts again as the bird perched in the tree spreads its wings and takes flight. His chest begins to tighten as his thoughts turn dark and he wonders how in a world with so much beauty he is only able to feel the pain. He knows Dean is trying, and it stabs at his heart to know that he can't even give into the one time Dean is trying so hard to reach out.

It's too late for anything to change his mind. He's gonna do what he should have done long ago. Dean's voice enters his mind again as he hears the words pour out of his older brother's mouth, "I know what's best for you Sam."

AND HE DOES HE TELLS HIMSELF. He can list off all the reasons in his head that proves he knows what Sam needs and that he knows what's best for him. He strings together sentence after sentence trying to slip past Sam's well built defences. Without granting any excuses for Sam's actions he lays down a long list of reasons why Sam needs to hold on. Every bit of this conversation they've had over the weeks past, but he's never said all at once. He prays that somehow he can get through to him this time.

Even as he talks Dean continues to take note of Sam's sad eyes and he feels his heart sink, "I never wanted this for you Sammy. You have so much more to give than this." And that seems to do it. He's got Sam's eyes burning into him now.

"You never wanted this?" Sam questions, "I never had a choice." Sam voice becomes loud and angry as it ricochets off the well worn walls of their ratty old hotel room.

Dean nods and swallows hard, "Maybe you didn't have a choice in the begining Sam, but you do now."

THE CONVERSATION CONTINUES with tense moments building to climax and sorrowful expressions gracing each brother's face. It's been nearly two hours when finally Sam hears Dean excuse himself. He has to answer a call. Sam is sure it's Bobby; the two of them have been talking to each other frequently the last few days. Dean thinks he can work some sort of magic here, make Sam better, and bring him back from the brink of despair.

Sam thinks Dean has lost his mind, there's no way he's coming back from this. He's caused more pain than he could ever imagine, and he knows it's only going to get worse. He's more than made up his mind.

As Dean stands to walk out of the hotel door Sam pauses letting a sigh fall from his lips. This is it. In two strides he crosses the room and slides the deadbolt into place. He can hear Dean pause from the other side of the door and then he hears the pounding, "SAMMY! DAMN IT SAM LET ME IN! DON'T BE STUPID SAM! SAMMY!"

Sam sighs as he pulls the .45 from his waistband. "I'm sorry Dean," he replies as he fires the single shot.

"NONONONONONO!" Dean is still screaming as he breaks down the door of room 213. Sam is lying on the floor; blood is pooled around him in the brightest red he's ever seen, the .45 still held in Sam's lifeless hand. Why Sam? What the hell were you thinking? Why? As he bends down to scoop his brother into his arms he can hear voices above him. Through his screams he doesn't understand what they are saying. All he cares about is the body in his arms, all he wants is Sam to come back.


Dean sucks in a deep breath of air as he sits straight up; his eyelids fly open revealing the dark dingy hotel room with the worn walls. Full panic envelopes him as he cries out, "Why? What?"

"Dean, you alright man?" Its Sam's voice that Dean hears, "God man, you're scaring the hell out of me."

"Sammy?" Dean's voice chokes out as he stares disbelievingly at the face above him.

"Yeah, Dean, are you alright?"

Dean nods and shakes his head, "I just—I thought..." he stops and takes in the look on Sam's face, there's concern and understanding written all over it. But there is something else too and Dean shakes as he notices the gray color present in Sam's eyes and stops. On any other night he might have just tried to pass this nightmare off, made a lame joke and gone on, but he can't lose his brother not like he just did. Nightmare or not it felt real. And if he continues to shut off his emotions it might just become his reality. "God Sam I thought I lost you." He replies.

"I'm right here Dean."

"Yeah, but... Sam you gotta promise me you won't do anything to change that."

"What does that mean?" Sam steps backward trying to piece together the implication of Dean's words, "You think I'm going to kill myself?" Sam says it trying to make it come off in an accusatory tone, but it instead it comes out sounding more like how do you know.

"No—maybe, I don't know Sam." Dean sighs and nods as he tries to untangle his words. Taking a deep breath he gathers his thoughts and looks up, "I know I haven't been the best big brother lately, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for so many things I don't even know where to start." The words are tumbling out of his mouth and even though it's still hard to share his deepest thoughts Dean knows it is best for Sam and he continues, "I want you to know that. I want you to know how sorry I am. And I want you to know that it would kill me if anything happened to you, anything— 'cuz you're the only thing that has ever really mattered and it would kill me."

Sam's face softens as he takes a seat on his bed, "Thanks Dean." He replies clearing his throat. Dean watches as a small grin crease across Sam's face and he can see a bit of color come back to his brother's eyes. "I guess I needed to hear that."