A/N: Can't stop won't stop writing about Sam this season. He's just being so amazing. Anyway, hope you enjoy this!


For three minutes, Sam was alone.

(Of course, it was much more than just three minutes. It was the six months in the Mystery Spot, and the four months Dean was in Hell, the millennia in the Cage, the year with Amelia, the months Dean was a demon because he may have been surrounded by people but he was always, fundamentally, alone. The time just kept racking up and up in his head and Sam began to wonder if he was losing it because spending too much time alone was guaranteed to make a person crack)

(But then he was already cracked and broken and destroyed in every way possible. Duct tape and safety pins was all he was made of now)


Three minutes was a blink of an eye. Three minutes was a lifetime. Three minutes was 240 seconds, and it was 240 years. Three minutes was not nearly enough time, and too much time altogether.

As three minutes dragged and sped by, Sam wasn't sure he breathed.


The tin was labelled with Dr Roberts: Emergency only. The name was unfamiliar, but Sam would sure as hell be paying him a visit when (if) they got out of here. There was no way Dean could have pre-empted having to go into the veil to find some ghosts, so, to Sam at least, there was no conceivable reason he would need a hypodermic in their weapons bag. Sam hadn't even known Dean had had them, and he refused to let his mind wander into why he did. Dean wouldn't do that.

Right?


Three minutes turned into four, turned into five, and Sam was still alone. Panic began to settle in his chest, his stomach, his entire body, and all Sam could do was shake Dean and yell his brother's name, hoping against hope that he'd just wake up. He didn't know what he'd do if Dean was really, truly gone, thrown into the Empty like Billie had promised all those months ago. Billie was dead, but Sam was sure there'd be other reapers out there who'd be more than willing to do the deed. So, if that was the case, what was he supposed to do? He'd lived a future without Dean so many times before and he wasn't sure he could do it again, especially knowing how Dean had chosen to die like that. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.


When Dean finally did wake up, Sam wanted to comfort his brother, but all he could do was sit back and close his eyes in relief as the fear slowly (too slowly) began to drain out of his body. He found himself unable to leave his position against the wall, and could only watch as Dean breathed heavily and struggled upright. Neither of them moved for a long time after.


Sam almost broke when Dean started listing the names of their dead.

Dad.

Bobby.

Mom.

Cas.

Of course, that was only a portion of the pages and pages of names they have on their consciences, but it was one of the most important. To Dean, anyway. Sam wanted to scream at him that he was almost added to that list, that he nearly became another name Sam had to carry round with him for the rest of his life. But he kept silent because Dean wasn't okay, which meant that Sam had to be. Sam had to be the strong one with the unwavering belief and comforting words because that was his job when Dean didn't believe. It was his job.


Cas returned, and things with Dean started looking up.

Sam broke.


A/N: So I'm not sure if that ending was too OOC or what, but I am bitter and I want to vent about Sam's feelings in a way that's mutually beneficial. So. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!