Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Sam or *whimper* Dean. I'd certainly take better care of them than the writers have, and their brotherly bond would certainly still be intact! With that in mind, this is obviously set before the whole "End Of The World Sam And Dean Hate Each Other" misery that's been dumped on fans who love the Winchesters. You can like it if you want, but you can like it in your OWN sandbox - my sandbox, I don't have to like it. :-)

WARNINGS!: **Mature readers only** Some language, blood, if you don't see a warning for it chances are you don't need one. *smug smile*

I closed the curtains tight, blocking out the bright light of the motel vacancy sign. I knelt on the gritty carpet beside the bed so I could look him in the eye. He was on his side, curled into a tight ball trying to hold himself together against the devastating agony in his guts.

The curse was ripping him apart from the inside. I had no way of knowing for sure how many vital organs had been decimated so far. Judging by the puddle of blood forming under his face, too many. My heart skipped a beat, then raced painfully with fear.

"Dean," I spoke his name gently, suffocated by an irrational fear that if I spoke too loud or forcefully I would break him further somehow. I wanted to reach out, put my hand on his spiky dark red hair and try to comfort him somehow. The blood pooling under his chin where it was tucked tight to his chest scared me. The urge to scoop him up and protect him from the pain was overwhelming.

I knew for certain from my short time traveling with the brothers that the gesture would not be entirely welcome. Seeing him trembling in pain, gasping for air between breathless bouts of muscle and tendon straining to keep from screaming...broke something inside me.

I had to clamp down on my empathic talents as soon as the curse started to take hold, but I didn't need my extra-sensory abilities to feel the excruciating pain radiating off him.

"Dean!" A bit more forceful this time, trying to get him to focus on something else, if even for a moment. His eyelids opened and those beautiful green irises rolled up to look at me as he lifted his chin from his chest just a fraction of an inch.

"Stay with me Dean! Sam will find him, we will fix this. Just stay with me!" Sam had gone looking for the damn Voodoo priest who had cursed Dean, he would do whatever it took to get him to reveal how to break the curse. That should have worried me, but it didn't.

Dean's eyes held such unfathomable pain, I flinched and wanted desperately to look away. I couldn't though. I had to hold his gaze, let him know he was not alone. I was not his brother, but I was all he had in that moment. I hoped it was enough.

His eyes teared up, his jaw clenched tight as another wave of pain wracked his body. Our eyes stayed locked as his lips pulled back from his teeth, grimacing as his own body betrayed him. His forehead furrowed with the effort of not turning away. I could see in his eyes he was silently begging me for help, for relief, for...

Death.

I gasped and jerked first away from him in shock, then forward just as quickly to gather him up in my arms. One hand behind his head, gently massaging the back of his neck and jaw, trying to get him to release before he cracked his teeth. My other arm slid up and over his waist, my hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, my head pressed into his upthrust shoulder.

Personal space be damned. I could no longer sit back and watch him suffer this alone.

For the first time in what felt like hours one of his hands moved from where they had both been clenched into fists and pressed against his tortured chest and stomach. I felt it reach out hesitantly, as if it were a living thing unwilling to leave the familiarity of his quivering abdomen. I thought for one fleeting moment he was going to push me away and I felt my heart break a little at the thought.

Just as quickly as the thought came and went, he had my upper arm in a crushing grip. I struggled not to whimper at the sudden pain, continued rubbing his neck and back. After a moment he started to release slightly, I could hear him taking shallow breaths again and hoped he had maybe slipped into the dubious comfort of unconsciousness.

Turning my head slightly I could see he was definitely still conscious and, though the pain had eased some, it was by no means gone. Come on Sam, I thought, hurry the hell up!

"Dean, I know it hurts, but you need to take slower, deeper breaths." He fixed me with a glare that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his frustration at not being able to control his own body. "Please Dean," I spoke gently, "you don't need to hyperventilate on top of everything else. Please try."

Again his eyes held mine and I breathed slowly and not too deeply, willing him to breathe with me. I ran my fingers through his soft spikey hair trying to soothe him. He did alright for a minute or two. Then I felt his body go rigid under my arms.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he loosed the most gut-wrenching, primal sound of agony and hopelessness I had ever heard. It froze me to the bone and my body forgot how to breathe.

Silence.

He was no longer trembling. He was not breathing. Oh gods I had lost him! My eyes welled with tears as I silently begged him to take a breath, open his eyes, do anything! I opened my mouth to beg him not to leave me, but no sound came out.

How was I going to tell Sam?