It was getting darker now, blackness creeping in on the outsides of his vision. His shivering had stopped, though he remembered it was cold. The puffs of white coming from his lips told his so. But he was so warm, like he was wrapped in light. There's fumbling next to him, words said but not understood, and then he's lifted, cradled in someone's arms. His eyes shift, refusing to focus, but finally latch on to the face hovering over him. The man's face is pinched in sadness, his brow drawn together as he utters more comfort, falling on deaf ears. He closes his eyes, feels the man shake him. It's raining on his face, a splotch landing on his cheek and rolling down the side of his face to his ear.
It finally comes through: a word. But it's cracked and confused, like sentences and words trapped beneath water, "Sammy."
He opens his eyes again, look back up at the man. No, his brother. Dean. He remembers now, cracks a smile as blood leaks from the corner of his lips. Dean lets out a shuddering breath at the change in expression, his hands grasping tighter to his little brother's body. He bows his head down, leans his forehead against the other's. The rain falls heavier now.
"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. You're going to be okay. Big brother's gonna fix you up, okay?"
Sam shakes his head, that smile dripped with blood still on his face, and watches as his brother's whole body trembles, his feature contorting in pain. He moves up, his hand splayed over Sam's ear to keep him in place, and leaves a kiss on his forehead, his lips quivering. He snuggles closer, pulling his baby brother to him even more, curling up around his body.
"Promise me, Dean," his brother snaps back to attention, his eyes meeting his once more, "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"You might have to be a bit more specific, Sammy boy," he runs his fingers though his brother's hair now, remembering all the times he teased him for its length, told him that he would cut it when he slept, and, God help him, if he ever wore it in a ponytail, he would shave it all off.
"Live, Dean," he chokes on blood in his throat, "Live as long as you can."
Sam's frail fingers find his brothers, curling around his hand as tight as they can. Dean hold onto him like he's a life line, never wanting to let him go, now while those fingers still had a bit of warmth in them, a bit of life. Sam tightens his grip momentarily, waiting for a reply, and Dean finally gives it to him, a slight nod of his head, biting his lower lip to keep in the sob. Sam's smile widens and his hands grows more slack once more.
"I'm gonna go see Jess, now," he slurs, his eyes sliding closed, "See Jess again 'n tell her I love her."
"You do that, Sammy," he kisses him on the fore head again and feels his brother's body shudder to take a breath.
"Love ya, Dean."
"Love you, too, Sammy," he can't stop himself now, lets out the cries and whimpers he's been holding in his throat as Sam breaths one last time and stills.
Dean sits there for a while, rocking his brother's body back and forth in his arms, singing him a song that their mother used to sing when he was younger, one his brother never got to hear. Finally, as the sun began to rise, Dean placed Sam back down on the earth, patting down the front of his brother's blood soaked clothes, and went to go find wood to start a fire.