He couldn't fucking believe it.

Sam couldn't believe what his brother had said.

He was in shock that those words left Dean's mouth.

He couldn't accept the fact that the older Winchester had the audacity to spout that shit at him.

That seemingly simple phrase was raging through the young hunter's mind and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it the fuck out.

Sam failed to withhold a hiss, the pain flaring in his left shoulder as his arm shifted in its make-shift sling. He could sense his brother's eyes on him before he glanced over to see the worried green gaze.

"M'fine." He mumbled through clenched teeth, dismissing Dean's concern.

Sam watched as the driver turned back toward the road, his lips pressed into a thin line as he forced the Impala to go just a little bit faster.

Sam was tempted to point out that the trip back to the cabin they were crashing in wasn't going to get any shorter if they got pulled over for speeding, but he let it go, both because he was losing too much blood to care and because it was unlikely there would be any police cruisers on the unlit backroad.

Sam dropped his head against the window, leaning his long torso into the door, trying to keep the wounds on his back and shoulder from making contact with anything – all in a vain attempt to lessen the pain coursing through his weary frame. He closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to focus on anything - even the agony he was experiencing, but nothing worked. There was no topic on the damn planet that could get Sam's mind off what his big brother had said to him.

A bump in the road jolted the injured man, causing his back to press into the upholstery and sending sparks of fire through his frame.

"Fuck." He cursed, choking on a breath as anguish burned in his wounds.

"Shit! Sorry, Sammy."

Sam grit his teeth at the apology as he swallowed another sound of pain that was fighting its way out. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pressed his right side back against the door, hoping to stabilize his body. Of course his brother felt guilty for stupid shit like not being able to see every bump on a pitch-black country road, and the moron probably felt guilty for Sam being hurt in the first place – but he didn't seem to care much about the garbage that had shot from his lips directly into the younger man's soul.

Dean didn't give a crap about the one damn thing he should feel guilty for.

Asshole.

Sam scowled, his jaw clenching as he curled up closer to the door.

"You sure you don't want to lie down in the back?" Dean asked, for what had to be the fifteenth time.

No shit, Sam wanted to stretch out on the bench seat, it would be twice more comfortable than the hunched position he was currently adopting. When Dean had first helped Sam over to the car, his intention had been to load the tall frame into the back, but Sam had resisted. Not because it wasn't a good idea, the younger man knew that laying on his right side with his back away from the upholstery would have been far more painless.

But, unfourtunately, Sam's big brother was an idiot.

A complete blockhead who had just recently proven that he'd forgotten he had a partner and now Sam needed to remind him – something he couldn't do from the backseat. Backseats were for children, for kids that needed to be protected from danger, for dependents – that's not who Sam was, not anymore. He was grown now. Since he had returned from school things were meant to be different. He was supposed to be Dean's partner, someone his brother could lean on, someone who could be trusted to have the older hunter's back. Sam hadn't had enough oxygen or enough blood to convey that message verbally, instead he had stubbornly insisted on taking his place in the passenger seat, where he would sit side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder with his big brother and maybe – just maybe – Dean would clue the fuck in.

Though, that didn't seem to be the case.

"I'm sure." Sam grumbled, irrationally irritated that his silent message wasn't getting across.

"Another thirty minutes, at least." Dean stated, the sympathetic warning sounding far more like the hopeful suggestion Sam knew it to be. Dean wanted him to change his mind, but he was out of luck, because the youngest Winchester was in no mood to be taking suggestions, especially from the moron at his side.

"I know." He declared stubbornly, though it was a complete lie, he'd been so distracted by his mounting pain and frustration that he'd failed to notice how little time had passed.

Sam glanced to the left in time to see his big brother's pinched expression before Dean returned his focus to the road.

He could tell that the driver was annoyed but was withholding his comments because he could clearly detect that Sam was beyond pissed. Dean had always been able to read Sam quite well, but the younger man had no doubt that his brother was completely off-base as to the root of Sam's fury.

Because Dean was an idiot.

Sam stared out into the dark night, doing his best to ignore the pain pulsing through his body, as he pondered the evening's events.

It had all started rather simply.

That should have been the first warning, because nothing in hunting was ever simple.

Some animal had been devouring hikers in the area. Anyone who had attempted to tackle a particularly steep and forested trail that stretched across the mountainous terrain had ended up being shred to pieces. The authorities pinned it as a pack of coyotes that must had gone rabid, typical, but Sam and Dean knew it was more the moment they saw an image of one of the victims. The degree to which the human bodies were torn apart was alarming to say the least and the cyclic pattern of the killings was far from coincidental. The Winchester boys weren't positive, but they were sure enough to investigate the matter, especially because they had just completed a case in the area.

Preliminary research had turned up little information and the two hunters had been left with no choice but to venture up the trail, waiting for sunset on the proper day, hoping to encounter the beast that was likely not an official member of the animal kingdom. They had traveled with sufficient artillery, machetes through their belt loops and rifles in their hands, as well as the weapons bag in tow. Neither man was thrilled at the idea of fighting a creature they had yet to identify, but both had agreed it to be the most efficient course of action after a thorough investigation had produced nothing of significance.

Regardless of their lack of enthusiasm over the mystery hunt, neither brother was too concerned. They were relatively certain it was an animal of a supernatural nature and while its apparent capabilities were daunting, it was nowhere near the most challenging or powerful adversary the had faced – and certainly not the most complicated.

They had been right.

It had been an animal – of sorts.

The peculiar appearance suggested a supernatural lineage, something that its absurd speed and abnormal strength had confirmed.

Both brothers had been caught off guard, but both were well-trained and had quickly jumped into action. The beast had more teeth than could be counted – each one long and sharp and ready to tear. It was as large as a mountain lion, and twice as muscular. Its fur was bristled and its underbelly was layered in what appeared to be scales. The machetes were of no use, there was no way they could get close enough to use them without their head's being chomped off. The lower caliber fire arms did little damage, leaving a mark and even drawing some blood, but not slowing the creature down in the slightest. It was the double-barreled shotgun that proved most effective. Dean had fired first – the beast moved too quickly and was far too lethal for either hunter to waste time trying to line up the perfect shot – it tore through the animal's side and caused it to release an ear-piercing scream.

The supernatural being was wounded and while the injury slowed it down a tad, its rage made it impossibly more vicious. It catapulted towards Dean, who was forced to rapidly back away as he pumped the gun and took aim, but it was Sam who fired next.

The creature was mere inches away from Dean – who wasn't able to move back a step further without falling off the edge of the overhang– but the shot did what Sam prayed it would and redirected the monster's fury at him, causing it to spin back in the younger hunter's direction. Unfortunately, in the process of turning, the animal's supernaturally large tail whipped around and slammed into Dean.

Sam started running as he watched Dean try and fail to find his footing, the force of the tail shoving him off balance and swiping his feet over the cliff. As the taller man pumped his legs, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother, who had fallen on his chest and was currently searching for something to grasp as his body began to slip over the edge. Sam's focus was solely on Dean, paying no mind to the creature he knew was bound to be pursuing him.

It didn't matter.

Sam didn't have time to fight it before his brother dropped off the escarpment. He just needed to out-run it. He had to get to Dean before the monster got to him. And he had a chance because the animal was injured, if it hadn't been Sam knew that it would already be on top of him. He felt his jacket pull -hearing it rip - and heard Dean call for him to "watch out!" as the older man disappeared even further over the edge, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto as he fought against gravity – that was all the motivation Sam needed to run impossibly faster.

Once Dean's shoulders vanished from sight, followed rapidly by his head, Sam knew that he was out of time. He cried out for his brother as he leapt forward, feeling each muscle in his body complain as he forced them to extend beyond their capabilities. Sam's long frame slammed mercilessly into the hard ground, rocks jabbing into his ribs, the impact stealing his breath – but none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that Sam had Dean's wrist in his grasp. He was pulled forward by the weight of the older hunter, his head popping over the edge. Sam opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed, immediately catching the bright green gaze that was staring up at him. Dean looked as shocked as Sam felt, he had been so sure he wouldn't reach Dean before he vanished – and yet at the same time he hadn't allowed that to even be an option.

The younger man's wrist popped in complaint as Dean's body swung in his hold. Sam removed his left hand from where it was grasping the edge of the escarpment – to keep his body from sliding too far forward – and reached it down to his older brother, trying desperately to ignore the fact that the ground beneath Dean's dangling legs was nearly too far away to make out.

"Other hand." Sam grit out, his lungs still struggling to regain the oxygen that had been knocked out of them.

Dean grunted as he reached up, his right-hand meeting Sam's left, his calloused fingers gripping Sam's longer ones.

Sam grit his teeth as he tried to pull his brother up, but Dean's weight had always surpassed his own, even since his growth spurt. Dean was all muscle (perhaps a little hamburger, but mostly muscle) and Sam had never been that way. Growing up he had been skin and bones, something that age hadn't changed – Jess used to joke that people would think her cooking was rubbish if Sam stayed so damn skinny, which had always made the young man laugh, because his girlfriend had in fact been a terrible cook – and even Sam's return to the hunting life hadn't made much of a difference in respect to his weight. Dean had recently been complaining that the kid had lost too much weight, that he'd become too picky of an eater, when - in actuality they - both knew that Sam's lack of appetite had a great deal more to do with his grief than his dietary preferences.

Sam cursed as his attempts to pull his brother up only resulted in him being tugged further over the edge.

"Sam."

The youngest Winchester ignored his brother's call, closing his eyes as he focussed, digging his elbows and feet into the rocky dirt as he tried to anchor himself in the ground before making a second attempt to pull Dean up over the precipice.

He never had the chance to see if the method worked, hell he didn't have the chance to fucking blink, before he felt a crushing weight slam onto his back – his brother screaming out his name in time with the action. His lungs were emptied yet again, the air forced out of them by the beast compressing his insides. Though he didn't seem to have any air, a scream still tore from Sam's gullet as razorlike claws pierced into his skin.

They remained inside of him, sinking deeper as the creature settled onto the hunter's back.

"Fuck." Sam cursed, his frame trembling in agony and his lungs struggling to expand under the restrictive pressure. It was everything he could do to keep hold of his big brother as pain threatened to overcome him.

Even amidst his physical anguish, Sam felt Dean's grip loosen on his left hand. He looked down at his brother. The green gaze staring up at him was filled with fear and pain, and – the thing that speared Sam with ice cold fear – a calm resignation.

"Don't." Sam warned through clenched teeth, because he recognized that stupid self-sacrificial look on his big brother's face and he wasn't having any of it. Not anymore. He was a fucking adult now, Dean didn't have to be the martyr anymore.

"Let me go."

Sam had known something asinine was going to come out of the hunter's mouth, but the phrase still shocked him to his very core.

The younger man didn't have time to deal with any of the emotions storming inside of him, before he was distracted by a set of razor teeth clamping down around his left shoulder.

Sam felt more than heard a scream rip its way through his body and out his mouth. He slammed his eyes closed in a futile attempt to escape the agony burning through him like wildfire. His right hand clenched itself impossibly tighter around Dean's left wrist, but his left hand contracted, his big brother's limp fingers slipping even further away before Sam could force a grip. His arm was screaming from his perforated shoulder to the tips of his fingers and it was very nearly more than he could manage to maintain a grip on the top half of his brother's remaining four fingers – his thumb having slipped entirely loose.

Sam growled in both pain and mounting frustration. It would really help him out if his moron of a brother would hold onto him, instead of making Sam do all the goddamn work.

He cried out as the monster's jaw clamped down harder on his shoulder and began to pull back, as though the damn creature was trying to rip the entirety of the joint right off Sam's body.

"Let me go!" Dean ordered, clearly channeling John Winchester with the force of the command.

Sam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't pooling every drop energy into the task of keeping his brother from dropping a few hundred-thousand feet to his death. Dean knew better than anyone that the drill-sergeant method never worked on the youngest Winchester, much to their father's disgrace.

Sam was tempted to tell Dean just where he could shove his authoritative demand, but as he felt the fight within him begin to fade, he knew that his time was running out. His energy was draining just as fast as the blood he could feel drenching his back. He tried to take a breath, but was rewarded only with a shallow wheeze that felt as terrible as it sounded.

"Hey, little brother."

Sam stared down at the man dangling in his grip, trying to ignore the scream of each strained muscle, luckily the large mouth gnawing on his shoulder and the claws buried in his back made it much easier to ignore the discomfort of holding Dean's weight for longer than his body could handle.

"It's okay, kiddo. It's not your fault. You've done enough. Just let go."

The firm but gentle insistence was something Sam was ingrained to listen to, it was the tone that had been his comfort and his guide his entire life. He was damn near conditioned to respond to it.

But not this time.

Dean was always doing what was best for Sam and the younger hunter loved him for it, but he couldn't let it happen this time.

He wouldn't choose himself over his brother, not ever.

He wouldn't allow his hero to lay down his life for him, not again.

It was time for him to do what was best for Dean, damn the consequences.

Sam was finally old enough and strong enough to protect his big brother and nothing on this cursed planet would convince him to give that up.

"Sammy, let me go."

It was a plea.

Dean was pulling out the big guns - making his last stand, because he knew that his kid found it pretty fucking impossible not to give in to such a rare and desperate request.

"Dean." Sam gasped, fighting against the pain and powerful tremble of his frame that was threatening to damage his white-knuckled grip of Dean's left wrist and right fingers.

The green eyes met his, the gaze begging him to follow instruction and save himself.

"Sammy."

It was absolution and forgiveness and so much love in one goddamn word and it made Sam feel almost as grateful as it did pissed. He didn't deserve forgiveness if he did what Dean wanted him to. It wasn't fucking okay and Dean trying to make it so was infuriating his younger brother. Sam's head was a tornado of aggravation and outrage, he shoved it aside, because he didn't have time for that shit.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Sam grit out between clenched teeth, closing his eyes and sucking in a shallow breath of air as he readied himself to pull his brother to safety.

He knew he only had one decent shot in him. The energy he would expel in a single attempt would empty his tank and he knew there would be no chance to refill it. Not to mention, the supernatural beast seemed to be getting bored with trying to chew through Sam's shoulder and was starting to slide closer to the hunter's neck, which he knew would not stand a chance against those razor teeth; as shallow as they were, they were still long enough to perforate his carotid artery – there'd be no chance of surviving that and it wouldn't only lead to Sam's demise, but his brother's as well, which would explain the hollered argument Dean was currently trying to have.

He was shouting at Sam, telling him not to be stupid, that he was going to get himself killed, quickly reverting to begging for Sam to let go and assuring him that it would be okay. The younger hunter shut the older one out, focussing instead on the task at hand and trying to muster every ounce of energy that remained inside his broken body.

Sam made use of the one advantage of having an obscenely large creature perched on his back, the animal was providing an anchor. As long as its significant weight stayed in place on Sam's frame, the hunter would be able to put all his remaining strength into tugging his brother up over the edge without Dean's extra poundage pulling Sam down.

Sam grunted, biting back a guttural cry as he began to pull. He pushed each of his physical limits as he struggled to lift his brother's dangling form. It took longer than it should have, but after a moment or two he felt Dean return his lefthanded grip – his brother finally relenting and accepting the idea that he wasn't going to win this war and he might as well be of some fucking use.

Sam kept pulling, his elbows bending and his back arching as progress was made. His arms were shaking hard now, his breath coming in slivers of oxygen as his strength rapidly began to dissipate. Sam's eyes flew open as he felt Dean tear his fingers out of his left hand, only to see that his brother was close enough to grip the earth and was doing what he could to pull himself back over the edge.

Mere seconds later, Sam was drained dry and was doing little more than just holding onto his brother's wrist with a weak grip as he watched through lidded eyes as Dean clambered up onto the cliff's edge, his own arms shaking as his feet finally hit dirt. Only when he saw the soles of his brother's shoes safely imprint the rocky terrain, did Sam allow his eyes to fall closed and his body to forfeit its last speck of fight.

He was vaguely aware of the mouth that lost interest in his collarbone, where it had moved to after sufficiently shredding his shoulder, when he heard the shotgun sound three times before the creature fell limp on top of him. Sam coughed on much needed oxygen as his ribs protested the pressure of the animal's deadweight. He inhaled a breath of relief as the monster was rolled off him, but that relief was short-lived as the creature's claws shifted from where they were embedded into Sam's back.

A guttural scream tore through him as the fire of agony consumed him.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know he still had you." Dean declared, dropping to his knees next to his writhing brother.

"S'okay." The youngest Winchester rasped, trying and failing to stem the aggressive way his body was shaking.

"I've got to get them out, buddy." Dean stated regrettably, his sympathy apparent in his tone and the comforting hand that wrapped around Sam's hip.

Sam clenched his jaw. He wasn't ready for more pain. He didn't even have the energy to muster up another scream.

Or so he had thought.

A choked cry sounding nearly foreign ripped its way out from Sam's gullet and followed him into the darkness as his world went black.

He woke to a mere fraction less pain than he had lost consciousness to – which was likely why it took him so much longer to figure out what the hell was going on. He was completely disoriented, his limbs swaying slightly and his body jerking steadily as it seemed to be in some sort of forward motion. Cracking his eyes open was of no help, there was nothing but darkness to be seen. He used his fingers to search his surroundings, he flinched as the minimal movement of his left arm sent fire up into his shoulder, his fingers brushing what felt like leather and jean before going limp in response to the agony. His right hand was a little more successful. It felt around, brushing against what had to be some sort of fabric, before his fingers were entangled in something he instantly recognized.

That ugly ass amulet he had given his brother so long ago.

Relief flooded through Sam's body, overpowering his pain – providing him a second of reprieve, a second that he spent dwelling in the absolute safety that his big brother's presence had always provided. The wave of relief that washed over him was reflective of the way he had felt the moment he had seen that stupid brass charm dangling from Dean's neck when he'd broken into Sam's place back at Stanford. The younger man had been worried that with everything that happened, with the fracture in the family, with his leaving – that perhaps Dean no longer felt the same way toward his younger brother that he once had. The second the metallic charm had caught Sam's eyes from where it had been resting against the older Winchester's chest, he had been instantly relieved. The fact that Dean had been sporting the tacky gift, had been as much reassurance as Sam could ask for that his big brother still cared about him, that Dean had thought about him in his absence, and that even through the messy split and prolonged separation – Sam still had the one thing that had gotten him through his childhood, the one thing that he needed and valued above all else, the one thing that he hadn't yet known was about to get him through the hardest time of his life, his big brother's unconditional love.

Sam tried to take a breath, smelling leather and blood, with the faint addition of Dean's distinct sent, his rib cage having a difficult time expanding with his brother's shoulders digging into his chest. His left arm throbbed painfully as it swung – feeling as though it was barely attached to his mulled shoulder.

Sam flinched as the hunter holding his weight lurched, the abrupt movement sending a fire through the younger man. A sharp inhale ending in an embarrassingly broken cry when the wounds on his back screamed in pain.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Just hold on, kiddo. We're almost at the car."

Dean didn't seem too surprised to hear that his brother had returned to consciousness, then again Sam figured that the loose grip he still had on the amulet had been enough to give him away before the pitiful noise he made.

Sam wished he could have made himself pass out again, what he wouldn't have given to be blissfully unaware of the pain he was experiencing. He closed his eyes, pressing his face against Dean's jacket, wondering how he hadn't recognized that familiar scent the instant he had come around. He tried to submit himself to the darkness, allow it to take him and free him from the anguish. Unfortunately, the unbearable agony that had saved him from consciousness, had dimmed to a barely bearable level of pain that was preventing him from passing out again.

When unconsciousness refused to come, Sam used a different method to cope – one that he was much more accustomed to.

He tried to ground himself in his big brother.

Sam pressed his face harder into the muscular leather-clad shoulder, he listened to Dean's labored breathing and did his best to mold his body into the firm frame carrying him. His long fingers clenched around the brass charm, the familiar face imprinting on his palm.

"I've go you, Sammy. Just hold on for me, little brother. Just hold on." Dean petitioned softly.

Sam wanted to say something comforting. He could hear the fear in his brother's voice and wanted to rid of it, but he didn't have the energy – something he knew the warm substance drenching his back was to be blamed for. He hooked the fingers of his left hand into Dean's back beltloop, hoping that the small gesture would convey some flicker of reassurance.

Sam didn't know how much time had gone by. He couldn't figure out how long they had been walking, or rather, Dean had been walking. He didn't even have any idea how much time had passed since he'd been mauled. What he could recall was that the hike into the beast's preferred place of attack had taken hours.

He hoped they were nearing the clearing where they had left the Impala, both because Sam was beginning to question how much blood a human could lose before they were drained dry and because the youngest Winchester wasn't overly-sure how much longer his big brother was going to last. He could hear Dean's harsh breathing and sense the shorter frame straining to hold him steady. He could feel his body jerk every time the older man mis-stepped, which Sam knew to be an obvious sign that Dean's strength was wavering, because the elder hunter had forever had a lethal grace about him – it was Sam who had always been the clutz. Each jerky movement was accompanied with a hiss of pain from San and a sympathetic apology from Dean.

Because ofcourse the idiot wasn't going to bother apologizing for the one goddamn thing he needed to.

It was a pattern that was growing rather tiresome and the youngest Winchester was more than content when they finally reached the car. Dean had tried to unload him in the backseat, but Sam had refused – he had poured each last drop of strength he had into his stubbornness and refused to sit anywhere but the front. Where he belonged.

Because he was Dean's fucking partner, his equal – even if his brother had forgotten that fact.

"Come on, Sam. We've got to get you up."

The recollection of the day's events fizzled out as Sam opened eyes he hadn't known were closed. He must have zoned out because the Impala had stopped and it seemed as though they had arrived at their location. Sam must have been really out of it because not only were they parked but his passenger door had been opened and Dean was crouched down, his hand on one of the younger hunter's boney knees.

Sam blinked, trying to rid of the groggy fog that was masking his world. The blood loss was really affecting him. He started at the slam of a door nearby, confused over why there was so much noise at a secluded cabin. He looked out the open door past his big brother and realized it was so loud because they weren't at the quiet wood house buried in the forest, they were in a vast parking lot that appeared to belong to a building that was a hundred-times the size of the residence in which they had stayed the past couple nights.

A hospital.

Or what passed for a hospital in the relatively small town.

"Dean?" He grumbled, trusting his brother to understand his inquiry as well as his displeasure.

"You're torn to hell, Sam. You've lost too much blood, I'm pretty sure you've got shredded muscles in your back, and you might need a fucking skin-graft on that shoulder." Dean's explanation started sympathetic, but grew into something sounding far more like fury with each word.

Sam frowned. He had never considered that there was anything wrong with him that his brother couldn't fix.

"You've stitched muscle before." He mumbled. His body was in agony and his soul eviscerated – the last thing he wanted was to be interrogated and prodded by rough unfamiliar hands.

"Only when a hospital wasn't an option. Besides – I'm pretty sure you're going to need a goddamn bucket of blood at this point, and I don't have that kind of supplies. I also don't like the way you're wheezing." Dean added, his lips pulling impossibly further down.

"Pro'ly just cracked ribs." Sam brushed off, he'd had far worse.

"How's about we let a doctor do the diagnosing." Dean suggested, his remark carefully formed as the most casual of requests – but his tone gave him away, it always did.

Dean was scared.

Sam frowned, knowing what it was like to be concerned to the point of out-right fear.

He could sympathise with that.

But he was still pissed, and he let Dean know so by trying to haul his broken body out of the car all on his own.

It was a dumb decision that was birthed solely from petty anger, but Sam was pissed and it was a difficult emotion to express while being entirely dependent. All Sam managed to do was nearly tumble out of his seat and directly onto the pavement, Dean was taken by surprise and just barely catching the taller man in time.

"Whoah! Sam, what the fu—

Dean bit off his outraged exclamation after Sam sent him an angry glare. The older man slammed his mouth closed, his lips in a firm furious line and his face tight with frustration, but he remained silent as he pulled Sam's good arm over his shoulders and all but carried the wounded hunter into the hospital.

Things grew fuzzy after the brief march from the Impala to the entrance of the medical center. Sam remembered lots of shouting, but he couldn't keep track of any of, he was incredibly dizzy. Just as he felt his long frame begin to tumble, too many hands grabbed him and forced him onto an uncomfortable surface. He cried out as he was pressed to lay on his lacerated back. He heard Dean shouting, he sounded furious, but Sam didn't have time for that now, he was distracted by merciless anguish burning through him. He tried to turn but the unforgiving grips wouldn't allow it, just when he thought he was going to pass out once again all the harsh pressures disappeared and a pair of calloused hands gently, but firmly, rolled Sam's trembling frame onto his right side.

"There you go, Sammy. Just breathe, kiddo." Dean's voice encouraged. Sam didn't even have time to open his eyes before he was being moved rapidly once again, air rushing noisily past him as he completely lost his bearings.

He wanted to call out for Dean, he wanted to beg for his brother to come back, to make everything better; but he was still so fucking angry. He wasn't able to forget what Dean had said, the three words that hadn't stopped tormenting Sam's mind since they left his big brother's lips. The three words that perforated his soul as deeply and painfully as the monster's claws had his back. The three words that rang on repeat through his head and ignited an anger in the younger man that encouraged him to stubbornly clench his jaw and endure the agony – both physical and emotional - until his world went blessedly dark.