BY: Karen B.

Summary: Spoiler warnings for Season Eight Finale! Written because the words 'I love you' were right on the tip of Dean's tongue. "Bloody moose is road kill," Crowley softly murmured."

Disclaimer: Not the owner

Rated: Not medically correct by any means. Strictly written for the sake/kink of hurting Sam.

By that sin fell the angels. `~ Shakespeare -Henry VIII


Sam had stopped before the trial could be completed. Yet the pain came worse than ever, ripping his legs out from under him and sending him to the floor in a heap of thrashing limbs.

"Sam, what's happening?" I fought to gather his writhing body in my hands.

"Bloody moose is road kill," Crowley softly murmured.

"Shut up!" I shot him a heated glare.

Crowley. He didn't smile or smirk or look happy. His reaction seemed more sympathetic, sad even.

"Guh!" Sam screamed, folding his arms over his stomach, every nerve ending twitching.

"Easy. Easy, Sammy."

Sam panted, unfolding his arms and his hands began to flail, batting and swatting at the air, fingers gnarled.

He couldn't be dying. But looking at Sam now. Feeling his heart beat so fast and erratic beneath my fingers, witnessing the urgent, panicked way he was struggling for every breath, skin tone growing paler by the second, said otherwise.

I didn't waste another second, getting my hands under his sweat-drenched armpits and pulling him to his feet.

Sam moved on rubber legs as I half-drug him from the church. "I got you, little brother; you're going to be just fine."

Four stumbling steps, and we both collapsed by the side of the rain-slicked Impala.

Sam peered up at me, eyes wide with fear and gasping for air.

"Cas!" I yelled in panic. "Castiel!"

Sam's gasps turned to hard wheezing puffs, sending cold fear chilling me from the inside out.

"Where the hell are you?" I questioned heaven.

Sam listed sideways, and my attention was right back on him. His face twisted in pain, dark hair stringy and slicked back.


He turned away from me gagging, barely with it.

Tears stung the back of my throat, the whipping wind carrying the stench of death and the sound of swarming flies in search of the rotting corpse. The buzzing quickly turned to a whistling sound high above. I glared once more up at the night sky – shocked. It was lit up like mortar fire. Blazing-red bursts falling out of the darkness, shadowy objects smacking into the river, crashing through the trees,slamming to the hard-packed ground sending tremors rippling under our feet.

"What's happening?" Sam came around, trying to inch upward.

"Angels…they're falling."

Eyes glued to the sky, there was nothing we could do but watch and listen. Angel after angel fell like weighted sandbags, tens of thousands…a massacre.

"Nuuu," Sam's cry broke my gaze. He screamed again, rolling his head side-to-side and pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Sam?" I gripped the back of his neck to hold him steady, his hair soaked in sweat, fever raging.

"Crowley," Sam rasped. "Shouldn't leave him."

"I don't give a rats ass about Crowley!" I raged. "I need to get you out of here." I tried to pull Sam once more to his feet, but he screamed out in pain again, slipping from my grasp and landing to his side.

"Don't, don't move me," Sam breathed out. "Wait…minute."

"Dude," I whispered, ducking protectively over him as stabs of lightning electrified the sky. "I don't know if we have a minute."

Angels continued to fall, bursting into flame and colliding to the already bloodstained ground, some crashing through the century old church.

"And we thought the extinction of the dinosaurs was bad," I tried to joke.


The sharp ring of steel pierced our ears as one angel had thudded onto the hood with a fleshy squish, rolling off the side and dropping to the ground, blackened wings spread wide right before us. Sam and I both stiffened and the Impala shuddered.

"D'n," Sam barely could utter my name, his voice giving way as he gagged.

I'd been in the presence of Death enough times to feel him bearing down on my little brother.

"Aw!" Sam jerked and rasped in anguish, body tense and teeth gritted.

"No, no, no." My hands hovered over him. Not knowing where to touch.

Everything was suddenly quiet.

Only fog, and smoke, and burning fires illuminated the area. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The death and destruction would have brought me to my knees if I wasn't already on them. Angels lay in puddles of crimson rain –blood everywhere. There was no need to check the bodies. Not one of them moved. Not so much as a breeze drifted by.

The ghastly remains were proof enough; they were all dead…slowly melting back into the earth.

I thought I should pray. Opened my mouth to try, but no words would come. Instead I consintrated on Sam. I wasn't doing this again. Couldn't do this, again. Sam faded further, his breaths coming faster and shallower. Drops of rain hit his lips, but he didn't bother to lick any away. His life was bleeding out from an invisible wound and I couldn't stop it.

"Come here, come here, Sammy." I frantically strong-armed Sam upward, pulling him against my chest. Hoping that getting him into a sitting position would help with his breathing. I could feel the warmth of his blood; almost taste the copper droplets on my own lips.

Sam shifted weakly in my hold.

I dropped my head lower. His faint breathing warm against my cheek and I didn't need to check his pulse to know his heartbeat was slowing. "Breathe, Sam, Breathe."

Sam gasped and shook his head, laboring to talk.

"Hey, man, don't try to talk." I pressed a hand to his sternum rubbing vigorously.

Sam struggled. "Sorry, "he managed to wheeze.

"Stop it! I said just breathe!" Dipping my head, I flashed him a menacing look. "You're such a bitch! It's not in the cards. You're going to be fine," I replied gruffly.

"Y'…such… jerk," Sam coughed.

"Yes I am," I drawled out strongly, trying to hide the fact I was trembling in fear.

Sam's eyes filled with tears – my undoing - as mine teared up the same.

"I never meant to…Sammy, you've always been…I could never…I didn't…you're my brother, damn you! And I love you! You hear me!" I screamed angrily. "I love you," I repeated, lowering my voice.

Sam smiled and nodded.

But his smile quickly faltered and his eyes grew wide as he grimaced and squirmed in agony. "Guh." A shaking hand reached out to grasp a handful of my jacket. "Don't want …die… not here," he uttered between wheezes, his body growing heavier.

A fist punched through my stomach and I squeezed him tighter to me. "You're okay. Come on, Sam. Take in little breaths. In and out slowly," I coached, dragging him higher up on my chest.

Sam continued to breathe shallowly.

"Going to get you home, buddy." I reached up fumbling to open the passenger door.

Sam gagged, a squeaking noise forming at the back of his throat.

"I promise."

Just as I cracked the door open, Sam shuddered and choked on a sob, digging his fingers further into my jacket stopping me.

"Easy." I rubbed his chest. "I'm here with you. I'm here."

Sam blinked at me, then his eyes drifted up into his head and his hand let loose its hold slipping away from me.

"Sammy," I growled, catching his hand. "This is not one of those screwed up movie endings. You don't get to do this to me! Breathe!" I shook him hard.

Sam obliged me by sucking in a deep breath, but the air whooshed right back out of him.

Then there was nothing.

I squeezed his hand, but Sam didn't squeeze back. "No, no, no." My stomach lurched and acid filled the back of my throat.

I let my gaze travel up to Sam's gray-blue face. "Sam," I called out.

Utter quiet, the silence an excruciating sound.

"God, no!" I exploded, maneuvering his lax body down flat to the ground and pressing an ear to his mouth. "Please." I closed my eyes and waited.

Still. Not a wisp of air.

"Cas! " I reared back, roaring at the sky. "He's not breathing! I need some help here." I didn't wait for a response, quickly tilting Sam's head back and giving him two rescue breaths. Out of my peripheral vision, I watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall.

I paused and waited for a response.

Sam remained in a lifeless state.

"He's not breathing." I needlessly repeated, digging two fingers into the side of his neck and cringed. "Crap. No heartbeat."

I pulled Sam's shirt open, baring his chest for better contact. Threading my fingers I placed them at the base of his sternum and forced his chest down, letting up, and pushing back down.

Pumping, I picked up a steady rhythm stopping only to give two more rescue breaths.

Stiff armed, I kept going at him. Down, up, down, up, down, up.

I sat back on my hunches, waited a split second for a sign of life.


I went back to doing mouth-to-mouth.

Chest rise.

Chest fall.

Chest rise.

Chest fall.




Second after second. Minute after minute I filled Sam's lungs with air and pushed on his heart to keep it beating.

I stopped to check him again for life. Sam's mouth remained slightly open, eyes shut, face blue and lax.

Come on, come on. I chanted in my head.

Chest rise.

Chest fall.

Chest rise.

Chest fall.




Sam's body lifelessly rocked and rolled beneath my frantic efforts. "Breathe, brother. You can breathe. Done it all your life!"

Come on, come on, come on, come on damn it.

"I'm here, Sammy! Right here!" I wanted to slap the shit out of him. Drag him to his feet and make him move. That stupid' Weekend At Bernies' movie coming to mind. Images of me, hauling Sam's corpse all over the country buckled into the Impala. Sam wearing dark sunglasses propped up in front of his laptop, sitting at a restaurant table with a salad and ice tea in front of him, lounging in a strip-club bar with a beer glued in his hand. "You'd make one lousy dead guy," I muttered checking him again for breath or pulse.

Sam's lungs remained motionless, his heart still, skin cold.

"I'm not giving up, here, Sammy," I panted, arm muscles aching, lungs burning as I bent back over, pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth – two solid breaths.




Come on, come on, come on, come on.

Not bothering to sit up this time, my fingers awkwardly searched along Sam's neck for a pulse. Sweat dripped from my face – or was it tears – pattering to Sam's.

That's when it happened. I thought I was seeing things when Sam's fingers of his right hand curled into the dirt.

"Sammy?" I cupped a hand over his open mouth checking.

Still nothing.

Out-of-the-blue, Sam's spine arched up off the ground, throwing his head back and dragging in several deep, soul-shuddering breaths.

"Whoa! Hey!" I reared back; grasping his shoulders and holding him firm.

Sam's eyes flew open wide staring at me, then darting to the church, to a nearby fire, the Impala, then back to me.

"You're breathing. You're breathing now. I got you."

Sam dragged in a few deeper breaths, his entire body shivering and wet.

"I know. I know, buddy." I lifted him into my arms and hugged him – tight – both his arms dangling at his sides in exhaustion.

"Dean," he mumbled, mouth moving against my neck.

I closed my eyes…his voice in my ear, his heart beating against my chest beyond friggin' awesome.

"No weekend at Bernies for you, little brother," I gave a nervous laugh, easing him back to peer into his face.

"Wha'?" Sam rasped.

"You remember anything?"

Sam frowned, sleepy red-rimmed eyes blank. "Some."

"Never mind that, how're you feeling?"

Sam's frown deepened. "Not sure."

"For the second time in too short a time I should be hauling your ass to the E.R."

"No," Sam moaned. "Stay with you. Want to go home."

"Yeah, okay" I reached up to finish opening up the passenger door. "At this point your wish is my command, princess."

"Wait. The angels?" Sam's head wobbled his eyes at half-mast, face white and black smudges painted under his eyes.

"Splattered," I deadpanned, getting off my knees and wrangling Sam's uncooperative limbs into the Impala and buckling my 'living' brother safely inside and shutting him in. I swiftly jogged around on my own rubbery legs getting in behind the wheel, starting her up and putting the pedal to the metal.

Wanting nothing more than to put all the space I could between us and this place.



I glanced over at Sam. He'd slipped down in the seat and was staring quietly at his bandaged hand.

"We'll be home soon. You hanging in there?"

Sam thought about that a moment.

"Dude." I reached over and felt Sam's forehead. He was still hot with fever and my jaw clenched. "You are so letting me take care of you this go round."

Sam's lips twitched. "Fine, but no kitchen sink stew."

"Fine," I agreed.

Blinking out the window, I ran a hand down over my face, trying to keep myself awake. No way I was stopping for anything but gas.

"You think Crowley's still stuck in the trap?" Sam rasped.

"I don't know, Sammy, but you really had him foaming at the mouth." I shrugged.

"This is bad, Dean."

I shot Sam a sidelong glance. "It was almost a whole lot worse."

Sam nodded. "What now?"

"We pull it out like we always do, brother. Together." I flashed Sam a stern look. "No more sins between brothers. No more dying alone. No more going to hell alone. We go out like Butch and Sundance. Bonnie and Clyde – you can be Bonnie - Lawrence and Smith," I snapped.

"Who?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"You know. Bad Boys. 'We ride together, we die together.' Get it."

"They didn't die, Dean."

"That's not my point, Sam."

Sam winced and coughed.

I gripped his shoulder. "I can't change the past, bro, but the only path we take here on out is together. You mean more to me, Sammy, than breathing."

"Hey, Dean," Sam's voice was faint and scratchy.

"What, buddy?"

"No chick flick moments, Okay?"

I snorted loudly, "Driver still get to pick the music?"

"Have at." Sam waved a hand in permission, leaning back in the seat a sloppy grin on his face as I headed us home.

I popped in my Led Zeppelin tape and picked up our speed. We'd be home in two hours and kitchen sink stew was still on the menu. After all it was dad's cure-all.

The end