*I do not own Dean or Sam or the idea of Supernatural. This is just for fun. I have not done this to make a profit. All rights go to creators and actors and anyone else involved*

Dean Winchester dropped his bag, just like he would in any other motel room. The sheets were creased, the carpet strained and the furniture looked like it had been mulled by a dog or something. Dean was sick of it. Sick of moving. Sick of fighting. He fell onto the bag, he body relaxing and he realised how tired he actually was. The day's previous events had been strenuous on him and had taken a lot from him. He glanced over at Sam, who clearly had a range of things on his mind. Dean, although he wasn't specially gifted or dangerously powered, could almost smell the sense of disappear that was laying thick in the air. Dean didn't want to die. He knew he didn't, but with Lucifer growing stronger and stronger and Sam, oh poor Sammy, growing weaker and weaker, the realisation that that was what was going to become of him was always on his mind. Sam dumped the motel room keys on the wooden TV cabinet, which didn't actually in fact hold a TV, before he nodded at Dean once and disappeared into the bathroom. If only Dean hadn't be selfish that day he went and grabbed him from school, from his friends, from his life, then maybe Dean could at least feel good about the fact that Sammy was living a normal life because now, he wasn't even sure he and his brother knew what normal was. But then he would have been alone when his father died, but Dean would rather that than the feelings that pressed on him every single day. Loneliness. It's something Dean defiantly would have lived in to see his brother happy. Even now, when there was no possible chance of that.

Dean stood up again, feeling this sudden urge to get as far from him own thoughts as possible. He heard Sam switch the shower on, and give a little yelp as he realised the water was hot. Dean smiled at himself a little, realising he knew his brother better than he knew himself. Dean shrugged his jacket off, and hung it on the back of the tattered chair that sat in one corner of the motel room. He tapped his fingers on the chair for a moment, feeling unsure of what to do with himself. He'd never felt like this before. Never felt that life was so meaningless that even his younger, little jerk of a brother would be willing to shove himself in the hole just to save mankind. Bloody mankind. Bloody angels. Bloody demons. Bloody Lucifer. Bloody Sam for willing to do it. How Dean just wanted to shake him sometimes and tell him to not do it. To not risk his life because he knew, even though he didn't want to know, he knew Sammy wouldn't be coming back as soon as he was in the pit.

Dean was so closed up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Sam as he walked out the bathroom, fresh and clean in clothes that were dirty. Dean had also realised that in his momentarily lapse from society he had sat down on the leather chair and was staring at the white wall.

"Dean? You alright?"

"I'm sorry I was never a good enough brother to you Sammy, everything I've done to bring you here I regret. And I'm sorry." Sam gave a nervous laugh, but was staring at Dean with wide eyes.

"What are you talking about Dean? You were a great brother."

"I wasn't the best Sammy and I should of been, I should have shielded you from...all of this."

"All of what Dean? The apocalypse? It would have followed me wherever I went."

"But I should have made it harder for Lucifer to get to you. To let you know you're his true vessel. I ruined your life."

"No, Dean, listen to me. You helped me. You made it harder for him to get in. You didn't ruin my life. You made it." Dean looked at his brother for a moment, in a position that told him Sam believed every single word he was saying, the sad thing was, Dean didn't. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't. "Dean?" Dean had been quiet for quite a while now and Sam was feeling an intense state of worry. Dean cleared his throat and stretched before standing up once more.

"Maybe we should get some sleep." Dean slapped Sam on the back before jumping onto his bed. Sam breathed out.

"Don't you want anything to eat?"

"No I'm fine Sammy, just want to sleep."

"Just want to forget your thoughts more like." Although Dean had heard him, he let Sam leave without saying a word, because, to be honest, Sam was right.

Please give me feedback and tell me what you think and tell me if you think I should try a longer story because this was just like a brief show of how I write. Thank you for reading :)