Title: Fell on Black Days-Chapter One

Author: Snarkymuch

Rating: PG

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sam, Dean

Warnings: Suicide attempt in future chapters

Spoilers: Season 8

Summary: You can only take so much before you break. Since Dean returned from purgatory, Sam has been taking hits. This is one hit too many.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended.
AN: Thanks to clown_or_midget for beta'ing.

Fell on Black Days

"Come on, Dean. I know it's not you in there pulling the strings," Sam said, putting up his hands as Dean pointed the gun at him.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped. He turned to look at Garth, who moved to reach for his gun. "Don't!"

Garth put up his hands in a placating gesture.

Sam took a breath, letting it out slowly. "Take it easy, Dean."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You never even wanted this life. Always blamed me for pulling you back into it."

"That's not true," Sam said. He had never blamed Dean for it. It was part of the job and that was it.

"Really?" Dean said. "'Cause everything you've ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me."

"What do you want me to say? That I've made mistakes?" Sam said honestly. "I've made mistakes, Dean."

Garth looked over at Sam. "That's not Dean, Sam."

Dean's gaze snapped over to Garth. "Shut up!" He looked back over at Sam. "Mistakes? Well, let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits." Dean kept the gun trained on Sam. "Drinking demon blood, check. Being in cahoots with Ruby. Not telling me that you lost your soul. Or how about running around with Samuel for a whole year, letting me think that you were dead while you're doing all kinds of crazy. Those aren't mistakes, Sam. Those are choices!"

Dean's words hit Sam hard. They each cut him like a knife because he knew how true they were. His life had been a chain of mistakes, and the only person to blame was himself. "All right. You said it. We've both played a little fast and loose."

Dean took a step closer to Sam. "Yeah, I might have lied, but I never once betrayed you. I never once left you to die. And for what, a girl? You left me to die for a girl?"

Sam had to swallow back the tears at Dean's words. He felt like a failure, and he knew he should. He had let his brother down in ways he could never redeem. He had thought he was doing what Dean wanted, what they had agreed on. But it was just another one of his failures to chalk up with the rest.

Suddenly, Garth charged forward and grabbed for the gun, pushing Dean's arm so the muzzle was no longer pointed at Sam.

"Back off, Garth!" Dean warned as he wrestled with him.

Dean got his hand free and reached for Garth's throat. Sam snapped into action and charged forward.

"Let him go, Dean!"

Dean just smirked at him and squeezed Garth's throat harder. Sam cocked back his fist and slammed it against Dean's jaw, sending him stumbling back.

He released Garth, who stepped back, rubbing at his throat.

Dean pointed the gun back at Sam.

"If you're gonna do it, just do it," Sam said. "Just get it over with." Sam squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the gun to fire.

"No!" Garth shouted as he charged forward towards Dean. He hit him in the side just as the gun fired.

Sam fell to the floor just as the penny fell from Dean's hand.

"Sam?" Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. He wasn't sure what had just happened. It had all been a blur, haze of darkness covering his mind. Dean eyes gaze fell on the bright, fresh blood spilling from his brother and he froze. "Sammy?"

Sam blinked, hands clutching at the wound on his stomach. He could feel the warm blood trickling out from between his fingers. Dean had shot him. His brother had shot him. He wasn't sure whether the physical pain or emotional pain was worse.

Garth grabbed his phone with shaky hands and dialed 911 as he barreled over to Sam's side. He fell to his knees beside him, one hand going to the blood pouring out from Sam.

"Hang on, Sam," Garth said. "Yes, we need an ambulance, 91 East Pinnacle Road. My friend's been shot."

The haze in Dean's mind finally began to clear. He dropped the gun and ran to Sam's side. He stripped off his jacket and balled it up, pressing it to the wound on Sam's stomach. Sam's eyes squeezed shut at the pressure to the wound, and he groaned.

"Sam, talk to me, buddy," Dean said. He needed to hear Sam's voice, to hear that he was okay. "Sammy, please."

Sam's breath was getting harder and harder to catch. No matter how hard he pulled for air it wasn't enough. The world felt like it was growing dark. He could hear Dean pleading with him in the background, begging for him to answer. If he could just catch his breath, he could tell Dean how sorry he was, that he never meant to ruin his life like he had.

"Dean..." Sam whispered his name. "I'm sorry." It wasn't everything he wanted to say, but it was all his strength could afford.

Dean brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes. Sam blinked tiredly, slowly bringing his gaze to meet Dean's, whose eyes were brimming with tears.

"You listen to me, Sam," Dean commanded. "You're going to be all right. You hear me? You're going to be fine."

"'kay," Sam mumbled, not really sure that Dean was grasping how close to death he was. Sam could feel the darkness seeping in around the edges of his mind.

Garth suddenly stood and looked around the room. The ambulance and probably police were only minutes away and the gun was lying in the center of the room. There were going to be questions and they would need answers.

A flash of blue lights caught his eye and then the door was being kicked open. Two police officers came into the room, guns drawn.

"Put your hands up," the smaller of the officers said.

"I'm going to reach for my ID. I'm a Texas Ranger and they're FBI. We caught a robbery in progress. The guy pulled a gun and shot one of the agents."

The two officers exchanged glances. "All right," the shorter officer said. "Just move slowly."

Sam gasped and Garth looked over his shoulder at him. He was pale and his skin was beginning to grey. One of the officers cleared his throat and Garth looked back over at him. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out his ID, holding it up for them to see.

"Texas Ranger, see?"

The cops lowered their weapons and stepped forward. One of them reached for his radio. "How much longer on that ambulance? We have an officer down."

A second later, the red lights of the ambulance could be seen through the window.

Dean looked up and saw the paramedics coming into the room. They quickly pushed him to the side.

"We got this, sir," one of the medics said. "Just take a step back."

Stepping back was the last thing on Dean's mind. He didn't want to leave his brother's side. He was dying in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

More officers poured into the room and one came to Dean's side and pulled him back to give the medics more room. Dean tensed and shook the officer off.

"I'm not leaving him," Dean said.

"You don't have to, but you need to let them work."

Garth walked over and stood beside Dean. "Come on, Dean. They've got this. He's in good hands."

Dean nodded shakily. "Yeah, all right."

The paramedics loaded Sam onto the stretcher and carted him out of the room. Dean and Garth followed close behind.