Summary: Just a short Coda to the Episode All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1.
Panic surged through his chest like lightning amongst the clouds. Running, he was running, but his feet would never carry him there fast enough. Not even his words, ripped from his throat before he even thought to say them, could reach Sam before his attacker did. Sam was falling. And it didn't even matter the bastard was running away.
The world disappeared out from under him. Everything ? absolutely everything ? was gone. He didn't believe it, but he somehow knew it, even as he gripped the front of Sam's shirt and tried to keep him upright. He struggled with Sam's weak form, he checked his back and saw the blood. It was too much; much too much blood. But still he tried to talk Sammy out of it. He'd be OK. Big brother Dean was here. Dean could fix anything. He really could.
He'd seen it a million times, Sam's head lolling on his shoulders, overwhelmed by pain, drowsy from blood loss. He'd seen it before and it always turned out ok, it always did because Sam would never die. He never would. He was an idiot and got himself injured all the bloody time, product of the trade and all. But he would never ever die. Not really.
That fact seemed to have been forgotten, though, because they were both on their knees, in the mud, in a ghost town and Sam wasn't staying. His eyes were half closed, his gaze kept skittering off to the side, and even Dean yelling at him wasn't enough to make him pay attention.
It happened so quickly, really. Sam dying. He disappeared in between words. And Dean knew it when it happened because a body doesn't feel like that even when it's just unconscious. He stared at him, waiting, just in case there was something more. But he knew, even if he didn't believe.
And he wrapped Sam up in his arms, tucked his face into his neck, and held onto the only part of him the world would let him keep.