So, this is the second in my Angels and Demons series. The story is set at the end of season three, sort of my own virtual season four. As always, i don't own Sam or Dean or any of the characters from Supernatural, they're all Wonderful Kripke's, and i just love to play with them!! thanks for reading!! Should mention that to understand this it is probably best to read When Angels Close Their Eyes before reading this as there are new characters who were introduced in the first of the series. bambers;)

The Weak and the Weary

Chapter One

"Why the hell do you always get the bed by the door?" Jax grumbled as Sam threw his stuff onto the floor.

"Cause I said so," Sam simply stated as he bent and carefully placed Dean's knife under his pillow.

Jax stared at his clothes, now scattered all over ground, and clenched his fists, trying to remain calm, but the older man was really starting to get on his nerves. "Nick would've let me sleep by the door."

"Well, Nick's not here, so we can either do things my way . . . or you can go sleep in the car."

"Dean's not here either," Jax stalked to where Sam was standing, snatched the knife out from under the pillow and threw it across the room. The tip of the blade lodged in the wall and stuck there. "But, then again, he doesn't need ta be cause he takes up more of this freakin' room than both of us put together." He hated arguing with Sam, but after about three weeks of doing everything the hunter said without question, and still being no closer to finding out what had happened to Nick, Jax was beginning to wonder if Sam actually knew what he was doing. "He's gone, Sam, an' I'm sorry, but placin' a freakin' knife under what would've been his pillow isn't gonna magically bring Dean back, no matter how much you wish it would."

"Wasn't doing that for Dean," Sam hissed in anger as he strode to the wall and yanked out the knife, "was doing that to protect you."

"Keep tellin' yerself that, Sam, someday ya may actually start believin' it."

"Look who's talking," Sam shook his head in disgust, "all I hear about is Nick. Every damn freakin' minute of the day. 'When we gonna start lookin' for Nick? Think Nick might just be in hiding somewhere? You think Nick might have headed for Mexico'," Sam glanced up at Jax, hazel eyes stormy with anger, "like Mexico is some freakin' demon free zone. An' if he could've just made it there, he might be in some bar drinkin' shots right now waiting for you to come find him."

"Oh, an' this coming from the guy who sees his dead brother everywhere," Jax scoffed, rolling his eyes. "'Oh, thought I just saw Dean in the mini-mart'. 'Hey, wasn't that Dean doin' his laundry in his underwear'. 'Man, I swear that guy over there looked like Dean for a moment.'" Jax chuckled, "course the guy was like ninety an' used a walker, but hey, maybe death ages ya real fast."

"You just about finished?" Sam glared at him, eyes narrowing considerably.

"Yeah, except for one last thing . . . ." Jax quirked a brow as his gaze shifted briefly to the other side of the room, "I get the first shower," and before he'd even finished saying it, he darted toward the bathroom. "An' it's gonna be a really long one, afraid there won't be any hot water left for you." Laughing at Sam's look of utter frustration, he slammed the door behind him.

Sam trudged over to the bed, slumped down onto it, shoulders sagging, and looked at the knife in his hand. His brother had always kept it nearby, always assumed it would keep them both safe from whatever lurked in the darkness. However, deals didn't hunt you down as you slept, they came at you when your eyes were wide open. And now all he had left was a knife to represent what his brother had been, and memories to stab at his heart.

But what Dean had failed to consider was what Sam was thinking right now as guilt tore a hole so deep in his soul that at times he could scarcely breathe it hurt so much. In his death, Dean had become the weapon that was slowly, day by day, killing Sam with sharper precision than any blade ever could. And what terrified Sam more than anything was that he wished for it, welcomed it, praying for the release it would bring.

Lightly tracing a path over the veins in his wrist with the tip of the blade, he recalled how his brother had attacked him as he walked out of the bathroom, hit him over the head with some object, and then tied him to a chair. The blade bit a little deeper into his skin as he remembered the look on Dean's face as he sedated Sam, the sadness in his green eyes, lashes wet with unshed tears.

The feel of cold steel slicing through his flesh went virtually unnoticed as in his mind he heard the last words his brother ever said to him. I'm so sorry, Sammy, but I can't be strong . . . can't do this if you are there to see it. You have to understand, as long as I remain strong they didn't win . . . please just let me have this, it's the only thing I've ever asked for . . . an' don't hate me for it.

Blood trickled down his forearm as tears slid down his cheeks, but all he could see was the look in Dean's eyes before he stood and headed for the door. Turning back, he smiled at Sam but the slight tremor in his hands belied the brave front he was trying to give for Sam's benefit. Love ya, Sammy, you take care of yourself. Then he was gone.

Gone, and yet Jax was right, the memory of Dean lingered in the air, pressing in on Sam. He saw him everywhere, could smell the musky scent of his aftershave, could hear his laughter. And as the knife pierced his artery and blood spurted deep and rich from it, Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam watched in awe as blood dripped from his wrist to the floor, wondering for a moment if Dean would forgive him for being so weak when he'd remained so strong. But in the end, it really didn't matter. Dean wasn't there, and in truth he'd done the same thing. Not with a knife, but with a deal, and Sam couldn't see where there was any difference between the two.

"Sam?" Jax called out to the older man as he strode out of the bathroom, brows furrowing in confusion when Sam failed to respond. "Yer not still mad are ya?" he asked as he headed over to where Sam was sitting on the bed. His blue-green eyes widened considerably as his heart rapidly dropped into the pit of his stomach, seeing blood dripping from Sam's wrist. "Oh, God, Sam, what the hell did you do?" He stared in disbelief at Sam, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. "Why the hell would you do this?"

Rushing back to the bathroom, Jax grabbed several clean towels, and sprinted back to Sam. He quickly wrapped the towels around Sam's wrist, blood rapidly soaking through. "Not gonna let you die on me, you hear me, Sam? Not gonna let you do this." Jax ran over to the table and grabbed the first aid kit off of it, and hurried back to Sam. Grabbing all the rolls of gauze out of the box, he removed the towels and wound the gauze around his friend's wrist securing it tightly.

"It's gonna be okay, Sam, gonna take care of ya," Jax uttered in a strained voice, trying his best to sound reassuring, "just gotta get ya ta a hospital."

"No," Sam shook his head, "jus' wanna stay here . . . jus' go Jax."

"Things will get better, Sam," Jax glanced at his own wrist, the thick black band covering his own scars, and doubted Sam would believe him as Jax knew deep down things never got any better. "Know it doesn't seem like it right now, but they do."

"Jus' real tired . . . real tired . . . want it to be over."

"Yeah, know exactly how that feels." Jax helped Sam to his feet and led him out of the motel room. "Know it doesn't count for much, Sam, an' I know I'm not Dean, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Why'd he do it, Jax?" Sam looked to him for answers, and Jax just shrugged in response, not knowing what to say to make it all right that Dean had made a deal. "Why couldn't he have just left me to stay dead. When you're dead nothin' hurts anymore . . . an' right now it hurts so damn much, you have no idea how much."

"I know it does, believe me, I know." Jax guided Sam into the passenger's seat of the Impala, and ran around to the other side, flung open the door, and slid into the seat. Starting the engine, Jax backed up and then threw the car in drive, peeling out of the parking lot.

"Have to remember to breathe cause it hurts too much . . . a person shouldn't have to remember to breathe."

"A person shouldn't have to feel the guilt for something someone else did either." Jax peered down at his own wrist again, and thought of his mother. "It's not yer fault, Sam. What Dean did is not yer fault, got that? Ya can't blame yerself."

"Did it fer me," Sam mumbled, his eyelids sliding closed. "Makes it my fault."

Jax took a quick left, hitting hard on the accelerator when he glanced down and saw blood dripping through the bandages, and then noticed the color leaving Sam's face. Blowing through stop signs and traffic lights, car tires screeching and blaring horns all around him, Jax blocked them out, his only thoughts on getting Sam to the hospital. He made it to the hospital in record time, and pulling right up the emergency door, he stopped the car, flung open the door and ran around to Sam's side to help him out.

"Come on, Sam, everything's gonna be okay," he said, more to reassure himself than Sam. "Their gonna take real good care of ya." Hooking his arm around Sam's waist, Jax hauled him out of the car, and practically dragged him through the double sliding doors. "Need some help here," he hollered the moment he was inside, and several nurses and a doctor rushed over to him with a gurney.

As they helped Sam onto the gurney, and wheeled him away in a hurry, one nurse stayed behind. "Can you tell me what happened," she calmly asked as Jax helplessly watched Sam disappear behind the closed doors of the emergency room.

"Dunno," he shook his head, trembling with fear that he hadn't made it to the hospital in time. "Was fine . . . really thought he was fine . . . I mean we were arguin', but we always argue." Jax brusquely raked his fingers through his hair. "Shouldn't have mention Dean. Tell him I'm sorry . . . make sure he knows that . . . I mean I didn't know . . . ." his voice trailed off as he looked once again to where he'd seen the doctors take Sam.

The nurse took him by the arm and led him over to a seat, and sat beside him. "Has your friend been depressed a lot lately?

Jax looked incredulously at her, not understanding why she would ask such a stupid question. "Sliced his wrist open, think that pretty much qualifies him as depressed."

"Guess what I should say is has he ever tried to hurt himself before?"

"Dunno . . . all I know is that he's the only friend I got an' you need ta make him better. Understand me," Jax narrowed his eyes on her, swallowing hard against the painful lump forming in his throat, "you do what ya gotta do, but you make better."

"The doctors are going to do everything they can for him," the nurse said as she stood, a compassionate smile gracing her features as she looked down at him. "Is there any family I can notify for you?"

Jax thought of Bobby, but realized Sam wouldn't want him to know. It wasn't like getting injured on a hunt. That was understandable, and a part of their lives. Jax also feared that Bobby would look at Sam differently if he knew what Sam had done to himself. He understood first hand that people who hadn't lived it, hadn't felt a pain so deep and so intense in their hearts they could see nothing else, would never understand that sometimes death was the only way out. Sometimes living was just too damn hard. And sometimes just saying that everything was going to be okay wasn't even close to being enough. In fact, it didn't even scratch the surface.

"No, I'm the only family he's got." Maybe it wasn't the truth in the strictest sense of the word, but for all they shared in common, they might as well have been related. "He's my brother."

"Alright, I'll have someone come to get you as soon as they know anything." She turned and headed for the ER.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jax had been sitting in the waiting area for the longest time, and every time some one came out of the emergency room, he would glance up, hoping it was news of Sam. He was so lost in thought, that he failed to hear someone speaking to him, until they cleared their throat in a loud and irritating manner.

"Excuse me, my name is Doctor Fitzwater," The short, balding doctor said, "Nurse Parkinson said you were Sam's brother."

With heart pounding fiercely inside his chest, Jax was on his feet in an instant. "How is he?"

The doctor's stern gaze met and held Jax's for a moment, and then he looked to his medical notes on the clipboard he carried. "He cut pretty deeply into his artery, but we were able to repair the damage. However, there is some concern that there may be permanent damage to his tendons, and the ulnar and median nerves to his hand."

"But he is gonna be okay . . . I mean, there was a lot of blood . . . ." Jax's voice trailed off as he mentally recalled seeing the blood covering Sam's faded jeans and dripping onto the tan carpeting. "An awful lot of it."

"He did lose a fair amount of blood, but you got him here in time, an' we were able to take care of that." Doctor Fitzwater cleared his throat again, his bushy brows furrowing as he looked Jax in the eyes. "But right now, we are more concerned about his mental state. We would like to admit him as a psychiatric patient for observation."

"An' what did Sam have to say about that?" Jax asked, not liking the sound of it at all. From his experience, psychiatrists asked loaded questions and then turned around everything you said until you fit the text book definition of a crazy person. And if it were up to him, there would be no way in hell he would allow Sam to go through that. But it wasn't up to him, it was Sam's choice, and if Sam thought it was what he needed then Jax would stand beside him in that decision.

"He hasn't said a word since he came in here. So we thought maybe you could speak to him, make him understand that it is for his own good."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Jax said with a single shake of his head.

"But — "

"Said, I'm not gonna try an' make him see a shrink," Jax said more firmly. "Wanna see him now."

After a few moments of staring in disbelief at Jax, the doctor gave a curt nod. "Alright, I'll take you to see him, but I don't think you are doing him any favors by not getting him the help he needs."

"Really wasn't askin' your opinion, now take me to my brother."