Blinding Darkness

Chapter 1 – Falling Down

The metal of the gun was cold against his chin. Dean couldn't even shudder at the sudden sensation, he didn't even have control enough to do that. He could have felt despair, maybe desperation, maybe even fear but none of those emotions came. Just a blinding calm, a feeling of rightness that was frightening in of itself. And his finger tightened on the trigger.

The world around him swept away as he closed his eyes, I'm ready, and just as rapidly as the controlling urge to kill himself came, it vanished. Instinct alone pulled the gun away from his head as the shot rang out, missing him by inches. The noise ricocheted throughout the woods and the kick back of the gun still vibrated in his hands. Emotion flooded him at the near miss. Regret. Solid, hard regret that he'd missed.

Dean fell back onto the ground, staring up at the trees above, mind spiraling in circles. Sure, he shouldn't be here, he should have died in that hospital. He knew that. Hell, Sammy knew that even if he didn't want to admit to it. He should be dead and then Dad would be alive and be here with Sam. Maybe actually helping Sam instead of shutting him out, instead of beating him back down like Dean was doing with his inability to focus on anything other the horrible weight of what he knew. He didn't know how Dad had been able to carry it, but clearly he was better equipped. It was all so painfully obvious how this story should have ended. Yet his own hunter's instincts had saved his life, well, that and the shot from Andy when he murdered his own brother.

God, the whole thing just was so tremendously fucked up. His being alive was so wrong, Dean could feel it burning inside him. The wrongness of it all. The unfairness. Why did he deserve to be here and not their father? Sure, Sam and Dad fought like cats and dogs, didn't mean the old man didn't love Sam with a strength unmet. Didn't mean that Sam didn't match that love with his own fierceness. They just needed more time to work it all out. Dean sighed and buried back the tears that came at that thought. Time they didn't have. Time Dean had and their father didn't. So glaringly wrong.

Dean pulled himself back up. You selfish bastard, he reprimanded himself, stop wallowing in your damned self pity and go down there and help Sam.

He made his way down the ridge, gun in his now steady hand, emotions tightly pushed back to the far recesses of his mind where they needed to be to deal with his brother. Sam never need know what had just happened. Why worry him more, the kid had so damn much on his mind already and Dean was sure that Sam would even find a way to blame himself for Webber's demise.

By the time Dean made it onto the dam, he was clear-minded and composed. He made a quick scan of the street, jogging to a stop beside the distraught Andy. Sam wasn't in his sight and Dean's nerves kicked in.

"Andy? Andy! Where's Sam?" Dean's voice cut through Andy's own private hell as he was staring blindly at his dead twin.

Andy's head snapped up. "What? Oh Sam, he um… he took off. I don't know why. Had one of those vision things I think…"

Dean's eyes went wide. Oh God no. "Which way Andy?"

Andy pointed silently into the woods and Dean wasted no more time, tearing off in that direction fear now solidly coursing through him. He raced through the woods, branches catching him in the face, barely even noticing. His only thought was to find Sam. It was overwhelming and he ran.

It had begun to rain lightly by the time he found him. White hot relief hit Dean so hard and so fast that it almost hurt. Sam was kneeling in the spot Dean had almost shot himself mere minutes ago, head bowed but very clearly alive. He was breathing hard, panting almost like he'd run his heart out to get here.

Dean approached slowly, not wanting to startle him. "Sammy? You okay over there?" Dean kept his voice light.

Sam didn't raise his head, his voice was dark. "Peachy. You?"

Dean risked moving a little closer, trying to get a glimpse of his brother's face. "I'm good."

Sam leaned forward then, sniffing loudly in the silence. "Sure, you're good. You're always good. Always strong. Always in control. Never doing anything you don't want to do. I get it, I do." Finally Sam raised his head, staring at Dean with those goddamn huge, brown eyes that cut straight through Dean's defenses.

Dean felt all the air rush out of his lungs and he rushed to explain. "Sam, it was just Webber and his damned mind control, so I don't think you fully understand what…"

Sam's cold voice cut him off. "I felt it Dean. The relief. The regret later when he released you. I know. So don't lie to me."

Dean couldn't even muster up a smirk so he didn't bother to deny it. "So what, Sam? I can't have one moment of weakness? I thought that's what you've been trying to get me to admit to this whole damned time? Well congratulations, you're brother's not fucking perfect. Isn't that what you've been waiting to hear? Isn't that why you've been wanting me to confess?" Anger burned through Dean. His safety net, his faithful fall back. The one emotion he could always reach quickly.

Sam's response was as immediate as it was shocking. He stood and grabbed his brother, pulling him close until they were face to face, nose to nose. Sam's voice shook with emotion and Dean could now see the tears running freely down his face. "You want to die then? You want to end it now? Then fine, we'll do it together because no way you're leaving me alone here. I know I'm a selfish bastard but I can't be here alone. You choose then. You want to end it? I have bullets enough here for both of us." Sam pulled out his silver gun, cocking it, holding it between them.

Dean stared openly at Sam. "Fuck you, man. I'm not suicidal."

Sam's expression didn't waver. "I'm not angry Dean, I'm not mad at you. I'm not judging you. Clearly I'm not doing anything to help you, I think I see that now. If my being here isn't enough to ease how you're feeling and this is your only alternative then do it. I'm giving you permission. Don't live in that pain if you don't have to." Sam's eyes were cold and dead, gleaming with unshed tears and open agony. "Don't stay if you don't want to. Go to Mom, go to Dad, go somewhere better."

Dean shook his head. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?! I'm not going to off myself with your gun! Just because I don't deserve to live, doesn't mean I'm going to shoot myself! I told you, it wasn't me you saw! It was Webber."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "I know what I felt. You wanted it, you liked that he gave you an excuse."

Dean sighed dramatically. "Sam, give me a break okay. It was one moment. Jesus Christ, and thanks for trying to talk me out of it by the way. Thanks a lot for caring."

"I can't feel anything except how you're feeling Dean. I can't focus, I can barely even breath because YOU can't either." Sam fixed Dean with a solid glare and Dean finally heard what he was saying.

"Wait, you mean… you're pulling a straight up Deanna Troy right now?"

Sam's fogged brain can barely make out the Star Trek reference but he shakes his head. "More like I'm finally seeing things the way you see them. Seeing me the way you do and I get it man. I see how exhausting it is. I see how heavy what you carry is. And I do understand, if you can't lean on me then what else do you have? If I can't lean on you then what else do I have?" He fingered the gun and whispered to himself; "what else do I have?"

Dean reached out just then, fear overwhelming his anger. "You want to … hand over that gun then Sammy? And we can talk more." For one awful moment Dean watched Sam twist the gun around so the barrel faced him and then he passed it over to his brother. Dean took the gun quickly, snapping the safety back in place and then sliding it into the waistband of his jeans. He crouched down beside Sam then, staring over at the dam, completely lost for words.

How'd things get so bad so quickly? He didn't really want to kill himself, did he? He certainly didn't want Sam following, the thought of Sam alone in the world with no comfort left to him but a cold gun broke Dean's depression. Sam was right. Goddamn it, Sam was right.

Dean nodded, his voice soft and considerably kinder. "Okay Sam, I get it. I do. Look, I swear, it was just for a moment, I'm not going anywhere okay? Okay?"

But Sam wasn't dissuaded. "I know how you feel Dean. I know." He turned his blank eyes back at Dean. "It hurts you so badly. You hurt so deeply and I can't help you. I don't know how to help you. So really Dean, it's not you that's weak. It's not you that's failed."

Sam staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. "This isn't getting better. You're getting worse and somehow I think it might be my fault." He turned to Dean then, gripping his shoulders tightly, tears running down his dirty face. "I did try, Dean, I did want to help you. I didn't care what you thought of me or what you did to me, all I wanted was you to be better. I did try. And I do care, so much. Please, at least believe that."

Dean's fear slid up a notch. "Sammy…" He put his own hands to Sam's head and almost panicked when they came back bloody. "What the… Sam!" His brother chose that moment to go limp in his arms, head lulled back and the rain dripped down his neck revealing the bruises and a thin red trail of blood.

Dean held on tightly, not letting him fall to the ground. "Shit." Why the fuck didn't I check for head wounds before this? He mentally berated himself. All this talk of suicide and death had freaked him out completely. Sam seemed so resigned, so defeated. Dean shook his head, clearing it. He had to get Sam out of the rain, clean him up, patch him up and then things would be different. That's all. This is just a run off from the concussion Sam was probably suffering from.

Throwing Sam up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, Dean made his way slowly down off the crest and back to the Impala. He situated his unconscious brother in the front seat, oblivious to the water and the blood soaking his new leather interior. Racing back to the driver's seat Dean took a shuddering but steadying breath. He could fix this. He wasn't suicidal and neither was Sam. They weren't that far gone yet and he was going to make sure they never go that far. He was going to make sure. Suddenly his vision started blurring and he hastily whipped away the tears.

Damn it, Sammy, just goddamn it. I'm so sorry.

TBC