AN: This came to me while I was watching '99 Problems'. It's nothing much- just a little drabble. Some mental musings during the ep from Sam's point of view.
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"Whatever happened to us saving them?"
The answer was in his eyes. They were dead. It had taken a while to notice. Dean had been so lost for so long- since he'd come back from Hell, to be honest. The change hadn't been easy to spot. Dean was nothing if not a master of disguise. Especially if he was hiding from himself.
But it was visible now.
The fight in the house- Dean was more alive than he'd been in a long time. And then Dylan. That momentary burst of life- of that fighting spirit he was so used to seeing- was gone. Another loss. Another failure.
Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, he'd known the truth then. Known what Dean was going to do.
Months of watching the hope slowly fade from those green depths, one little piece of his soul at a time. A journey of soul sapping strength, courage and honor could only come to one destination. His brother had nothing left to give.
"So what, you wanna stop fighting? Roll over?"
"Why not?"
It was the first time in a long time he'd stopped to realize how tired his brother was. It was something that was always there, that constant struggle to find even the slightest shred of hope. Hell, it had been a part of him, too. Constantly fighting for redemption was exhausting.
He thought, after all, that he'd seen every facet of his brother. He'd seen Dean over protective, fiercely holding onto an image of their father that had never existed, bleeding, fevered and still damned determined to take any evil SOB he could get his hands on with him. Dean had loved with an unyielding loyalty to make Heaven weep, and he had hated with a rage Hell would have been envious of.
He'd watched as Dean sacrificed time and time again, only to hold on too tightly to those few he held dear. Death was his permanent dance partner, but Dean had continued to smile at it. Sarcasm could drip from that razor sharp tongue, but so too could soothing words of incredible grace.
But this- this emptiness- was something different. It was new, and all the more terrifying for it's depth.
"Are you going to do something stupid? Like, Michael stupid?"
"Come on, Sam."
And there it was. The unspoken answer all too clear in that deep chasm of misery that had become his brother's soul. Sam knew it was too late. Dean was far beyond white knuckling it- he was already falling.
But in his quest for redemption, Sam had chosen faith. He wanted so badly to believe in the big brother who could fix anything. Had fixed everything. Who could talk an angel into fighting on their side, gently treat a skinned knee, or make the devil himself dance to his whims.
Who had just walked out the door, determined to once again sacrifice everything for the greater good- or just too tired to care.
Desperate times, after all, had nothing on a desperate man.