Just a drabble. I own nothing and I'm sorry for all grammar/spelling mistakes.
Enjoy.
He's alive, but he feels dead.
He can move, but he walks around like he's a rotten corpse already.
He breathes, but the air tastes stale.
He moves his legs, but the floor seems like its crumbling beneath his feet.
He needs help.
IneedSam… is the first thought that pops into his mind. It's a completely instinctive, impulsive thought, because it's always the first one that snaps his brain in half when he's in trouble.
But Sam can't help him.
Not now.
Because Sam?
Sam's in his own personal hell.
-:-
The night slips into another dawn with his baby brother screaming his name, begging him to help.
"Help! Please, pleeease! Dean!"
The colors of dawn take away another piece of hope.
The End.