AN: I know that this has been done so many times before, but it's one of my favourite scenes and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. So, for your enjoyment, here is my take on the end of All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1. You know which bit I mean. This is from Dean's POV, because I wouldn't have it any other way. Enjoy! Also included in my series, Limp!Sam collection, but I felt like it deserved a spotlight of its own.
PS. Watch this before/after/every day. This is the scene I took this from, and I did my best to keep it canon:
You Tu be ( .dot. )com /watch?v=9pl61zbuf74
Warnings: Mild Language, Heartbreak, Crying (again!)
"Come on Bobby, we're nearly there," Dean urged the older man impatiently. "This has to be the place." They had searched everywhere and all the signs pointed to this creepy little town, deserted in the middle of God-knows where, being where the yellow-eyed bastard had taken Sam.
"Okay, okay," Bobby muttered, half to himself. Dean heard him, but didn't respond. He knew that he was being harsh, and not the least bit unreasonable to the man wading through mud beside him, but he had to make sure his brother was okay.
They walked in silence for a few hundred yards further, when a silhouette a little way up ahead caught his eye. Breaking into a jog, Dean called out. They were close enough that he could tell it was Sam, even in the dark.
"Dean," came the almost immediate response. Sam started to head in their direction to meet them, and Dean began to sigh in relief. Sam's voice sounded hoarse, and he looked as tired as Dean felt, but he also sounded like he was alright.
Distracted by the reunion, Dean noticed a beat too late the figure slipping up from the shadows behind Sam. He barely had time to shout a warning before the figure was upon him, and at the last second Dean made out the glint of a blade in the man's hand.
"Sam, look out!" he cried, but he knew before the last word that it was too late. He watched in horror, momentarily paralysed by shock, as Sam appear to be lifted clean off his feet and the air left his lungs in an instant. Then Dean was running.
"No!" He was screaming too, but he didn't even notice. His eyes were fixed on his brother, whose knees buckled under him as he ran to catch him. He saw the other man for a second in his peripheral, until Bobby was chasing him away from the crumping Sam, but he didn't care about either of them right now. Now, his whole being was screaming: Sammy!
Dean caught him just before he hit the ground, taking the worse of the impact as he dropped to his own knees and fisting his hands in Sam's shirt front. Sam started to slump forward into his brother, unable to support his own weight anymore, but Dean held him up and caught his gaze. Sam's eyes were already hooded and his response sluggish, but he did make the effort to look at his brother for a few seconds. Then his head dropped onto his brother's chest, and Dean was shaking him to try to rouse him.
"Sam." Nothing. "Sam. Sam! Hey," Dean tried again, but he could tell that Sam couldn't respond. He was limp and unresponsive against his chest, and his eyes were nearly completely closed now.
"Hey, come here." Dean loosed his shirt and wrapped both arms around his brother, ensuring that his head was resting against his shoulder. Dean didn't want to cause his brother anymore pain, even if Sam couldn't feel it right then. He'd been hurting enough later, Dean thought grimly.
"Let me look at you." He pressed one hand gently against the open wound in the centre of Sam's spine. He'd probably seen worse, but he wanted to reassure both Sam and himself that everything was going to be okay.
"Hey look." He shook Sam again as he spoke. "Look at me. It's not even that bad." He lifted is hand as he spoke, and his heart sank like a stone. That was a lot of blood. He'd seen worse though, he told himself firmly. "It's not even that bad, alright." He didn't really know who he was talking to now, but he had to do something to help Sam. Anything.
Dean lifted his little brother to look him in the eye again, but this time Sam couldn't even lift his head to meet Dean's eye. "Sammy?" In fact Sam wasn't moving at all anymore. "Sam!" Dean gritted his teeth to keep the tears at bay and keep trying to get a response. If he kept talking to Sam, Sam would wake up. Right?
"Hey! Listen to me, we're gonna patch y'up, okay? You're gonna be as good as new, huh?" Again, there was no response, and Dean felt a damp numbness creeping through his body. His knees were soaked through, but he didn't care. He couldn't feel anything, or think about anything, other than the warm body pressed against him. He could still feel Sam's chest rising and falling with his own, but barely.
"Imma take care of you," he told the boy cradled in his arms. Sam was his kid brother. His baby brother. He had to be okay. "Imma take care of you; that's my job, right? Watching after my pain-in-the-ass little brother." Dean had always been able to fix him up, and Sam depended on him. He'd never let him down, not when it counted. He couldn't let Sammy down now.
Dean couldn't hold back the sob that forced itself from him then, didn't want to. He couldn't let Sammy down. He wouldn't. He considered praying to any God that would listen to help him, but there was no point. He was the only person Sam had ever really been able to depend on, and he alone was going to fail to save him. Sam's eyes closed agonisingly slowly, and Dean felt him shift once more as if he was trying to take a breath.
"Come on," he whispered, willing Sam to take that breath, but it never came. There was only a heavy silence, and stillness. "Sam? Sam? Sam!" He was begging for something, anything, but he knew from the pit of his stomach that it was too late.
"Sammy!" The tears began to flow freely now, but he couldn't take his eyes off his baby brother lifeless face. "No…" The word emptied him of everything. Hope. Pain. Sam was gone.
"No. No. No. No. No. No." He could only repeat himself over and over, stuck in an increasing spiral of emptiness and loss. "Come here." He could no longer bear to look at Sam's body, so he pulled him into a hug and didn't let go. The warmth was already starting to fade, and Sam was becoming heavier by the second. "Oh God!"
Dean fisted a hand in his brother's hair and squeezed his eyes shut to blink away the tears. That bastard had done this to Sam, and now he was going to die. He was going to pay for what he'd done, and then…
And then… nothing. It wouldn't bring Sammy back. There was nothing left now.
If Dean closed his eyes and held Sam close enough he could pretend for a moment that he was asleep… that Sammy was just four years old, and had had fallen asleep watching cartoons, cradled in his big brother's arms. Dean would rock him gently until he woke up, and then they would go and eat dinner, or wait up until their Dad got home.
But that was gone now. That was a dream; nothing more. Their Dad was gone, and now Dean had lost Sammy too. He was gone, and now Dean was alone.
AN: If you enjoyed this, remember to follow, favourite or review. Requests as always are appreciated and considered. Thanks.