AN: Post 3.16.


A fingertip brushes against slowly ashen skin, removing the red that's beginning to crust.


More tears slip down splashing onto skin and hair, hands shaking, breath coming in short, quick gasps.

You can't be gone.

Shifting his weight, he now hovers over his brother, cautiously pulling the dead body towards him - up over his knees, feeling warm blood seep into his shirt. His eyes widen – almost comically if it weren't for the circumstances – as his fingers slip, nearly dropping the battle hardened body.

He won't allow himself to look anywhere past Dean's shoulders...the ribbons of flesh just sitting there - shuddering to and fro as he jostles his brother into a position where he can stare into now lifeless green eyes.

Will you wake up for me?

He searches Dean's face for an answer - nothing forthcoming.


"Sam! Dean! Where are you boys?" Bobby's words drift closer, stomping boots stopping just short of the door. A sharp intake of breath before one word of denial is spoken, "No..."

A shadow falls over Sam and the prone figure that's still cradled to his chest. The shadow moves until he's kneeling next to Dean on the other side. "S-Sam…" Bobby starts shakily, "I...D-Dean…" At a loss for words Bobby strokes Dean's face, quietly whispering words that are spoken between father and son. "Jesus Christ," he speaks to the room.

The older hunter sighs. The sound quickly drowning into a sob.

Another tear slips into Dean's hair.

"Son, I-we need to get outta here." Bobby's hand covers his gently squeezing, trying to get through to the last Winchester. "We have to leave."

I'd give anything to hear you call me 'bitch' you jerk.

He shakes his head. He fixes his gaze down to his brother, willing his eyes to burn every line of Dean's face into his memory, attempting to count and remember each and every position of the freckles that dust his nose.

He blinks, clearing his watery vision - he hears Dean's voice say: "Bobby's right, you gotta move it. C'mon Sam...shag ass!"

Bobby moves his hands under Sam's trying to loosen the young one's grip, moving to pull the body away from him. "Sam, I'm gonna take-"

I'll never let you go. Ever.

He growls. It's a sound that's filled with menace and agonising heartbreak. It's feral…almost manic in desperation; leaving Bobby wide eyed, snapping his hands back against his sides, his eyes downcast but understanding.

Sam turns his attention back to Dean.

He bows his head, lips hovering gently over Dean's forehead. Once dirty blonde hair tickles the tip of his nose as he breathes in.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and lowers his head expecting to feel some semblance of warmth.

A distressed whimper escapes from his mouth as his lips touch his brother's skin.

It's cold.

AN: Hope you enjoyed this. Leave a review, concrit is welcomed.