A/N! So, here I am. What can I say. I loved 13x04. I just loved it, so here what my thoughts and feelings got me, when I started typing.
No beta-reader because I just wanted to get this out here. Sorry for any mistakes.

I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters. No money is made by this fic.

This fic is for ''FabianaForever11" a faithful and great reader! I thank you for all your support! Also, this little fic is for my great, great beta-reader ''Geekyfangirl131'', who is always there to help me out, through thick and thin. I could neever thank her enough for all her support. She has given me a reason to write stories and I have found a part of myself I had lost because of her... So, yeah...Thank you, my dear Geekyfangirl131! I hope you'll enjoy this little fic!

Hope you'll enjoy!

FULL SUMMARY:

1-shot. Set during the final scene of episode 4 of Season 13 between Sam and Dean and moving on after that very scene. "I know it's a lot to ask of you... I know that, in our situation hope is something we can't have. It's too much of a burden to bear." Dean's voice wavered, but if Sam noticed it, he made no comment on the matter. He just looked at his brother through his long eyelashes, his hazel eyes blurry.

OR:

Dean is broken and he has lost his faith. Broken, so he can no longer carry the burden on his shoulders. So, he asks Sam to hope, for them both. To carry the burden for them both... And Sam, does.

Off we go! A/N!

"Carry the burden for us Both..."

Sam was tired. He was so tired and oh, so broken. He was tired of fighting and losing everything and everyone in the very end. Tired of having to deal with psychotic monsters every couple of days. And above all else, he was tired of hoping for something he deep down knew was a lost cause. And today all that turmoil, all that pain had finally broken free from deep within Sam and had surfaced, flooding the young man's already ravaged heart with suppressed pain, sadness and bitterness, all of which came crashing down on him, out of the blue.

The result of that short, yet unavoidable breakdown, was that Sam had spoken words sharp, poisonous almost, and had, more or less, let Dean know that he couldn't bear the thought that their mother was dead, because he had never really got the chance to get to know her. But now, as Sam found himself sitting on a wooden chair in the bunker with a thick book in his lap, he couldn't stop that low, thin voice, which was echoing inside his head, from telling him that he was delusional. 'You know she's dead. In fact, death may be better for her. You know what Lucifer does to his prisoners...' Sam shut his hazel eyes shivering hard at the thought of the Devil torturing his mother, like he had done with him.

"Hey..." Dean's soft, yet deep voice made the younger man jerk, and Sam immediately darted his gaze up to his brother, who was holding two bottles of beer by the neck. Sam accepted the drink with a silent nod of gratitude, watching as Dean fought inwardly, for he was torn, between staying in the room, talking to Sam, and leaving, like he had done all the nights before. Eventually, Dean stilled, before turning around to face his brother. He took a sip of his beer and then he sat on the desk, near Sam.

'Well that's a change.' Sam thought to himself. Yet as the younger man let his hazel eyes linger on his brother's figure, he saw how badly Dean was hurting. His shoulders were hunched, his proud figure bend and beaten. He was broken, broken like never before, Sam realized, exhaling softly as he set his book aside. The thing was, that that was not the first time Sam had come to this very same realization. No. Sam had lost count of how many times he had to bite his lip at the sight of his brother being nothing more than a thin shadow of himself. In fact, every time Sam looked at his brother he could see how much the older man was hurting.

And yet, each and every time, the sight seemed to be more heartbreaking and it would hit a core deep within the young hunter. So Sam wanted to try and help. He yearned to make his brother feel better, to make him feel alive again. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't, because, how can one pick up shards of broken glass, pieces of a life which are scattered all around the place, when his hands are torn and bleeding, when every beat of his heart feels labored and painful? No. Sam couldn't help, for he was broken as well. Broken and tired. Scared. He was so scared... Scared of what Jack could become, scared that, despite his efforts, the kid would eventually fall into the dark side, like Sam himself had done so many years ago.

Scared, that, sooner or later, tragedy would come knocking at their door once again and that Dean would be gone from his side. God, Sam trembled at the thought. No, no, no... Sam knew he couldn't bear to lose his brother, not after losing Cas, not after losing Mary... Hazel eyes opened wide at that moment, and Sam drew his gaze on Dean, before swallowing hard. His body felt numb and heavy, as if it was not his own to command. And it really wasn't, hadn't been for a long time. Sam was but a puppet, whose strings were moved by the sheer thought that Mary, his mother, their mother, was alive. And now that the thought was fading away, along with all hope Sam had left, the strings were cut, leaving Sam unable to do anything.

His chest felt heavy and the young man drew in a collective breath. He couldn't do this any longer. The burden was too much for him to bear. Hope for something that is long gone. The longer you carry the burden, the heavier it gets and when all hope finally fades, this burden comes crashing down on you. Sam knew that. And if he wanted to be honest with himself, he couldn't keep up with the task. So, for the first time ever since the fight with Lucifer that night Jack was born and so many other people died, Sam gave in, into his fear as well as into that devilish voice in his head. He gave in and broke, admitting his fear to the only person he could always open up to. "Dean..." Sam muttered under his breath, but Dean must have heard him, for his eyes were now focused on him.

"Dean, what if... What if you're right, about Mom? What if she is dead and I'm just in denial?" The words were spoken in a low tone and the young man felt as though he was spitting up acid out of his mouth with every word he uttered. Dean took a sip of his beer, remaining silent. Sam slumped further in his chair, his long, trained hands, resting on his lap. Dean momentarily flicked his green eyes from the floor to his brother and gasped silently. Sam's posture reeked of fear, fatigue and he was on the brink of resignation.

Dean's heart sank in his chest, and the older hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Don't say that." Dean heard himself retorting, knowing that he owed his brother a chick-flick moment if he wanted to be able to keep on going, to be able to keep fighting. Oh, who was Dean kidding? He had given up ever since Lucifer killed Cas. Ever since he dragged Mary with him, into that freaking Bizzaro world. He had given up on everything and everyone. They say, faith is hard to maintain, yet can so easily be lost and forsaken. And now, Dean knew he had lost all faith. Sam's surprised voice got Dean back on the present and out of his head.

"What? You've been wanting me to admit that since it happened." The kid was right, Dean thought. Once again, however, his broken heart knew the truth. He had never wanted Sam to admit Mary was dead. Because Dean was empty, deprived of all his strength and faith. He was broken. He could no longer bear to hope, for the price he would have to pay once all hopes would fade, was one Dean knew he couldn't pay. "I know I have. But, don't say that." The words were holding not one shred of mockery. They were words from the depths of Dean's shuttered heart.

Silence then coated them both and Sam could hear the beating of his own heart in his ears. Sam's eyes were on Dean now, yet the younger man waited in silence, allowing Dean to take his time. "I need you to keep the faith, for both of us. Because right now — right now I don't believe in a damn thing." Dean's voice faded and the older hunter took yet another sip of his beer, so as to turn his eyes away from Sam.

"Sam, I... I need you to hope, for us both... Because I- I can't. I can't do it, Sammy." Emerald eyes were shining with unshed tears under the bunker's dim illumination and Sam swallowed hard yet again, to steady his voice. "Dean, I-" "I know it's a lot to ask of you... I know that, in our situation hope is something we can't have. It's too much of a burden to bear." Dean's voice wavered, but if Sam noticed it, he made no comment on the matter. He just looked at his brother through his long eyelashes, his hazel eyes blurry. "I know it's a lot, and that I shouldn't ask this of you, but Sammy, I..." Dean's voice trailed off then, and the green-eyed hunter pressed a hand on his knitted eyebrows.

"I get it, Dean, I do. It's normal, and it's fine. I've got this. For us both." Sam replied, getting up from his chair with elegant, yet slow movements. His joints started popping from where he had been sitting for too long, yet the young hunter ignored them in favor of his brother. He stopped a few inches before Dean, but let his hands rest on the man's thighs. "It's fine if you feel you can no longer fight, that you can no longer carry all this weight on your shoulders." "Sammy-" "I am not asking you to do that." Sam said softly, his voice weary and small. "All I am asking of you, is to have a little faith. You said you don't believe in a damn thing. And I get that too." Sam continued, nestling closer to his brother's body.

"All the things that happened... They have left you empty. Nothing holds a true meaning anymore. This life, it's a one-way road. Evil seems invincible, and it keeps coming back, no matter what we do. God is gone, and we are not enough... And people... People like us, try to do the right thing, but they all end up-" Here, Sam's voice trailed off and the young man averted his gaze from the one of his brother. "So, I know you have no hope left. But all I am asking you, is to have just a little faith. Not in life, or Death, or the Angels, not even in God, or Jack..." At that point, Sam let his gaze find Dean's once again and his hands were hooked on his brother's jeans to the point where Sam's knuckles were turning white. "Have a little faith... In me." Sam finally uttered, and then fell silent, body tensing.

Dean could only look at Sam, with eyes filled with love and pride for his little brother, a man who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet was now willing to lift Dean's burden for him as well. The older man felt his chest warming up for the first time in a long while and a feeling akin to adoration rose up in his chest. He raised his hand, cupping Sam's right cheek in it, smiling softly when the younger man leaned into his touch. "I think I can do that." Was all he said. The moment was quiet and ended soon after, with Dean letting his hand fall from Sam's face, as he got up and away from the desk, setting his bottle aside.

"Sam..." Dean croaked as he reached the threshold. "I may not be able to carry the burden of hoping for mom... But know that I can, and will, carry you." He whispered and his words made Sam chuckle lowly. "There is the Rudy-hobbit again..." He replied, but his heart warmed up at the word. Dean huffed as well and took another step towards the hallway, before stopping once again, his back on Sam. "You wanna..." His words faded and Sam turned his head towards his brother abruptly. They hadn't done a single thing ever since the mess with Lucifer. They hadn't even slept –really slept- together. It was an unspoken agreement. The pain was too much, the wounds too fresh, the gashes on their souls bleeding heavily.

They needed space. And yet, in the darkness of his room, Sam hadn't slept more than two hours. The same applied for Dean. Still, they hadn't touched. "I... Yeah, I could come over, if you want me to." Sam replied slowly. "Jack won't come out of the room, I think he's already asleep." The younger man added. "Sam, I am not talking about- I can't- Not yet, I-" "Hey, no, Dean, no..." Sam hurried to intervene, cutting his brother off. "I know. I know... Let's just... Try and sleep. How does that sound?" Sam offered, a slight tremble in his voice. "Yeah... Let's try and sleep." Dean replied in a distant voice.

Not an hour later, they were in Dean's bed, with Sam's chest pressed on Dean's back, while his long arms were resting on the green-eyed man's waist. There they were, silent, in the darkness, trying to sleep. They didn't really achieve their goal, for the ghosts lingered behind their closed eyes, ready to haunt them as soon as sleep would come down upon them. But at the early hours of the morning, at the darkest hour, the one before the dawn, Dean's green eyes finally shut and in his dream, he saw neither blood, nor fire, but the moon, mirrored on the hood of the Impala as well as, on the long, lonely road, which was spreading ahead of him. He grabbed the wheel of his Baby and pressed down on the gas pedal, speeding up the engine. Heading towards the unknown.

And as Dean turned to his right, he saw Sam sitting next to him, the moon in his hazel eyes... Dean's eyes snapped open then, and he gasped as he beheld the same hazel eyes looking right back at him. He was no longer on the road, Dean realized, but in his room instead, tugged under the covers. Yet, Sam was still there. There, to guide him, to hold the skies when they would fall, to carry the burden for them both. Sam remained silent, but his eyes were filled with love.

Dean smiled, a weak, yet warm smile, and looked at those glorious eyes, before getting up from bed. He was sure he caught a glimpse of the moon within them... Sam then stretched out his long hand and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's still early, Dean." Sam whispered, yet his voice was giving away the fact he hadn't slept that well. "I'm just going to take a leak." The green eyed man replied. Sam remained silent as his brother walked out the door, not sure that he would return. But Dean did come back, and he covered Sam with the blanket like he had always done, before lying next to him once more, eyes wide open, looking at Sam, who had finally, drifted off to a light slumber.

So, who knew, maybe they would do better tomorrow night. Yeah, Dean thought they might. For what was worth, he knew that he was willing to try, if only to be able to have Sam close to him and get a glimpse of those eyes. Yes... Yes, it was a good thought to start the day. The best that had crossed his mind in a long while. And that must mean something.

A/N! So, here it ends.

Liked it? I would love to hear your thoughts! Comments and Kudos keep me going! Also, sorry for the lack of Wincest, but I think the boys hurt so much now, that sex is not what they need. So, I write what I feel like writing. When things get better, I will get back into the sexy stuff.
Until next time,
Love you all,
Usagi