Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the show, the plot, the boys, Cas, the impala. Nothing. *sigh*

A/N: Hello everyone! So this is my first Supernatural story, and my first story in about 4 years. So, bare with me while I try and get my feet back on the ground with this whole writing thing. I would love any constructive criticism that you guys have, so please feel free to let me know what you think! Also, a big shout out to Bunny from the joint account SparkieBunny. She graciously read this over for me to make sure I don't totally suck and helped me with ideas, grammar, etc. Anyway, enjoy!

5 minutes. He had only been gone for 5 fucking minutes.

They had gotten back to the motel after finishing up a simple salt and burn. They could have done it with their eyes closed. Everything had been fine. Still riding the high from the job, he had left to go grab some food from the vending machine. Sammy was just walking into the bathroom, for a shower he presumed, when Dean walked out the door.

5 fucking minutes.

He arrived back to a silent motel room, not thinking much of it; his energy had started to sag and he was more than ready to collapse onto the uncomfortable but familiar motel mattress. He looked over at the bed to his right, expecting to see Sammy passed out as usual. But he wasn't there. The shower wasn't running. In fact, there was no sound at all. Just silence. He got up and knocked on the bathroom door.


No answer. Wait. Knock again.

"Sam? What'd you do, fall asleep before you made it to the shower?"

No answer. Open door.


Blood, bright red blood everywhere. Staining plain white tiles. Sammy. Stop bleeding. Please stop bleeding. 911. Grab wrists. Don't let go. Don't you dare let go. Sammy.

5 fucking minutes.

Time stands still. Minutes pass like hours. But everything moves so fast. What is happening? How is this happening? Voices everywhere, overlapping. Talking, talking, just shut up. Do something. He hears but he's not listening. He can't listen. Can't focus. Focus. You need to focus. Sammy.

"I'm going with him."

"Sir, you—"

"I'm going." Pause. "He's my brother."

He's all that's left.

"Let's go."

The ride goes by in a blur. All he sees is Sam. All he thinks is Sam. Sammy, little brother Sammy lying in front of him. Eyes closed, face pale. Bright red blood all over his hands. His wrists. His blood. Everywhere. Hands clasped tightly over lifeless fingers. Don't let go. Don't you dare let go. Sammy. They whisk him away before he has a chance to speak. Speak what?

No words.

Because this is all wrong. How did this happen?

It was only 5 fucking minutes.

How could this happen? No, not how. Why? Why would Sammy do this? To him? Why didn't he just talk to him. Tell him. Show him. Do something.

Why didn't he see it? Shouldn't he have seen it? It's his job. Protect Sammy. And now.


No, it's not his fault. No. Sammy should have told him. Should have let him help.

Should have.

Would have.

Could have.

He wants to be angry, pissed, outraged. But he's not. Because he knows.

He understands.

And he thinks maybe Sammy had the right idea.

Slide down. Hands together. Pretends he can feel Sammy's hands beneath his. Or is he just trying to hide the shaking? Maybe it's both. Dry red blood stains his hands. Off. He needs it off.

Soap. Water. Scrub. Rinse. Repeat.

He just needs it off.

Glass shatters. Look down, more blood. Feels familiar. Not again. He can't do this again, he can't do it alone.

Slides down the wall, head in his hands. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

What are they doing? Why are they living this life? They should have gotten out. Maybe Sammy's out now.

Is it really worth this? Saving people, hunting things, the fucking family business.

What family? Everyone is dead. Gone. And Sam might be next.

He needs Bobby. He needs him. He was already slipping away when Cas–

And then Bobby just–

Don't think. When he thinks, he feels, and when he feels, he cries. And soldiers don't cry.

This is fucked up. So fucked up. Sam's fucked up.

And he's alone, so very alone. No one is left to keep him together. No one is here to stop him from going over the edge. He couldn't stop Sam. Why should anyone stop him? What did they do to deserve this? They've been to hell and back, they've saved lives, and all they get in return is pain. Mary. John. Ellen. Jo. Ash. Cas. Bobby.

And now Sam.

His last piece of sanity turned insane by the constant, unforgiving hallucinations of hell. They pushed him over the edge. And he was there now, too. Looking over the edge. Seeing the fall. Feeling the fall. But after the fall would be nothing.

A blissful nothing.

Everything would be over. They would be out. Done.

It would be so easy, so very easy. Peaceful.

Voices come again, surrounding him. But he's not listening.


Someone's there, in front of him. But he's not seeing.


Hands grab his. Warm, soft hands. Familiar. He looks up.

He opens his mouth. But there's no sound. Tries to speak, but nothing.

"He's okay. He's alive. Sam's alive."

Alive. Alive. Sam's alive. He allows himself to be pulled to his feet, dragged through hallway after hallway. Numb. Alive. Sammy's alive.

Stop. Door. Open.


Breathing. Alive. Right there in front of him. Okay? No, not okay. So far from okay. But alive.

He stares. Feels a presence behind him. Standing. Waiting. Strong arms wrap around him. So familiar.

Breathe. In. Out.


He lets go and steps back. Looks into the face of the man he thought was gone. Dead. Left him, just like everyone else. How is he here? Why now? He wants to ask, to yell, to fight, to something. Because he's angry, he thinks. He doesn't know what to feel now. They stare at each other. No words are needed.

Cas knows. Cas knows he's angry. That they have things to talk about. But Dean knows, too. Dean knows Cas is sorry. But right now it's not important. Cas is here now. He helped save Sam. Sammy, the only thing on his mind now.

He tears his gaze away from Cas and turns toward Sammy. His brother. His last true constant in this hell on earth. He'll fix this. He has to.

"I'll be around" he hears. He nods vaguely and sees Cas leave out of the corner of his eye as he takes a seat next to Sammy's bed.

He stares. He wants to speak. Say something. But there are no words.

He takes Sammy's hand in his again.

No longer lifeless fingers curl around his own.

He breathes. In. Out.

He holds on tight.

Don't let go. Don't you dare let go.

A/N: There you have it :) Hope you all enjoyed it, and I would love any feedback so don't be afraid to review and let me know your thoughts!