Disclaimer : I don't own Sam & Dean Winchester. But I want to marry one of them!!!

Rating : K+

BETA : Vonnie836. She is just awesome.

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WHITE LIGHT

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Sam did not know how long he sat on the hood of that old broken SUV. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the blue sky. His head rested on the windshield, right hand behind his head and the other resting on his lap. A light breeze was gently blowing over him and his soft curly brown mop was swaying rhythmically and tickling over his eyes. Sam carded his hand through his wayward hair and pushed it away from his forehead. It was a peaceful noon, no noise, no crappy horns of vehicles, nothing. The only sound he could hear was his breathing, but he knew, this wouldn't last very long.

The young Winchester blinked several times as a dull headache set in behind his eyes. He slowly lifted his left hand and started massaging his mildly aching forehead. He remembered that he should have taken his medication a long time ago, but he'd ignored it. Why? Why should he take medication for his pain, when he didn't deserve it, when there was nothing left for him! Nothing, no one was left. Jessica was gone a long time now; he couldn't save her, when he should have. His dad gone too, Sam blinked back the moisture pooling in his eyes; dad died saving his brother. He made a deal to save Dean's soul, but Sam knew deep down, that it was his fault. He was the only reason Dean was in the situation requiring the deal. He was the reason the demon possessed his dad and ripped Dean's chest open. If he had listened to his Dad in first place nothing would have happened. Hell, but then his dad still would've died and he would've never been able to look up into his brother's eyes again. And then what would he been supposed to do? What?

Sam bit his lower lip hard and his nostrils flared, hell, nothing would've happened, if he had never been born. His mom was the first to die because of him. The memory made tears stream down over his pale cheeks, 'Mom, 'm sorry mom, I know I'm the only reason, why you died that horrific death. Why…? Why did you leave me mom, it should have been me, not you, not dad, not Jessica. Now 'm going to die anyway, but now it's for nothing. I would sell my soul for anyone I lost, but all of you are cremated. If I had known earlier, I'd sold my soul for Dean, Dad would have lived, Dean would be happy, I would be in peace for that one thing I've done, done good.' Sam brought his knees towards his chest and folded his arms around his knees. He rested his head atop his hands and cried softly. 'I can't do anything good. Everyone around me dies. If I wanna do anything good, I should keep my mouth locked in front of Dean before he finds out what's wrong with me. I don't want to bother him anymore; he already had enough on his plate with me. And…and he was right, what I tried to do was too little, too late. But I can fix this now.' Sam sniffed miserably.

Suddenly a piercing pain shot up in his head and he grabbed a fistful of his hair. The pain was unbearable and was getting worse by the minute. The doctor warned him to take his medication in time or else this kind of complication could happen. Stress or depression made the matter worse. Sam felt severe pain in his eyes, growing as rapidly as his headaches. It hurt to breath and he felt tremendously sick. Clumsily he got up onto his weak feet, but before he was able to try and leave the junkyard, his knees buckled and he fell to his knees, just as he started to heave. After expelling all of what little lunch he had eaten, he started to shake uncontrollably. Part of him wanted to call Dean, but then he had to confess the reason and he didn't want to be more of a burden than he already was. And after today's deed, after what Dean had told him, he didn't want to piss his brother off any more than he already was.

Sam fumbled in his jeans pocket and retrieved a bottle of Naphazoline. He shook the bottle a couple of times and carefully applied a few drops into both eyes. He rested his head on a car and blinked back the tears caused by the effect of the eye drops. The nausea had abated but the pain in his head was drumming mercilessly and his whole body was shaking as a fever started to develop. Even with closed eyes he felt everything around him was spinning and spinning and spinning. He couldn't stop the movement. He really wanted to lie down on a soft bed at Bobby's, but didn't have the energy to go back. Sam didn't know when his body slid down and hit the dusty ground as peaceful oblivion took a hold on him.

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Dean sat on the bar stool and absently stared at the beer bottles. Three empty bottles lay scattered over the table top besides the one he was holding. The bar was quiet, as it was only 5 pm. He had sat over here for the last two hour. He usually didn't drink this early, but he wanted to escape. Escape from Sam, from his constant pushing, his apologizing about Dad's deal, from his eyes, from everything. He wanted to throw something or punch someone after that bitter argument between him and Sam.

"Dean c'mon. I said 'm sorry." Sam grabbed his arm from behind and spun him towards him, "Look man, I'm sorry I said those words to you, 'm sorry about your car but, Dean, you gotta stop this. You can't go on like that. You have to control yourself. I know what you're feeling after dad…"

Sam's voice trailed awkwardly as Dean released his arm from Sam's and raised a warning finger toward his face, "Shut up Sam. Don't you dare! Okay, just don't you dare…"

"What? You're gonna hit me? Then c'mon, if you feel like it then just go ahead and take a swing."

"I don't want anything from you. I don't need you." Dean's voice boomed in anger.

Sam's eyes clouded as he heard Dean's statement. He lowered his head to hide his unshed tears and blinked, "Guess I figured that but Dean, I need you. I can't do anything without you. I…"

"That's perfectly our little Sammy Winchester, isn't it." Dean said in mock expression, "Always begs, always whines until he gets what he wants. Always the needy, whiny, pathetic, stupid brat." Dean almost wished he could keep his mouth shut but anger didn't let him stop it. It felt like anger, no, a volcano of anger possessed him, after he smashed his beloved impala with an iron crowbar, and lashed out at his little brother, who wasn't a little brother anymore then, just a target. A target Dean could hit, a bulls-eye at which Dean could throw his hellish anger, "This is all your fault you know that, right? I gave up all my life to raise you, to protect you, being referee between your desire and dad's reluctance and what have I got…a big hole of nothing. Oh no, I got a dead father, a smashed impala and a whiny. little. brother." Dean's threw his tirade towards his stunned brother.

"Why are you saying this to me?" Sam's voice quivered as he was on the verge of crying. His expressive hazel orbs glistening and his face becoming three shades paler.

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself. Hell, if you tackled that demon who possessed dad, nothing would have happened. I wouldn't have been in that shape and Dad wouldn't have sold his soul for me." Dean was practically screaming.

"What the hell should I've done then, Dean? Dad was telling me to kill him…ring any bells?" Sam had had enough. Why was Dean talking to him like this? Was he trying to tell him everything was just his fault, "If I'd killed Dad, would you ever forgive me? I tried to keep you both safe. What was I supposed to do then?"

"Well, you did a nice job to keep both of us safe Sam. You screwed up Sam, you screwed up as hell and now you're trying to be a good son? You think I deserve your stupid little speech?" Dean shoved Sam with his both hand and Sam tripped over his bed. He bowed his head as tears streamed down from his eyes. Dean noticed but didn't care, 'That's the typical Sam, always cries when someone tells him the truth.' He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times and took his leather jacket from his bed. He had to get out from this right now, he had to calm himself down, before he do something more wrong than what he already did. He headed towards the door, when he heard a muffled sob, "He was my dad too."

Dean shut his eyes for a second and then turned his head toward his brother. Sam was still hunched down over the bed, a thin trail of yellow mucus running from his nose but he sniffed it up miserably. Dean grimaced, 'still like a baby' and headed to the door, "Hope you'll remember that." He muttered and then was gone.

'Man, I shouldn't have said those awful words to him,'Dean thought and took a swig of his beer. He knew that his brother was hurting but he couldn't fix it. He couldn't after what his father told him about Sam. Dean didn't mean to hurt his brother emotionally, but Sam was pushing him way more than he could bear. What he told his brother, was just his anger. But then he remembered his brother's tears, 'he was my dad too', Dean shook his head to wipe those images away, but his brother's hurtful gaze was still swimming in his mind.

"You okay sweetie?" A soft feminine voice startled him. A kind motherly face was looming over him.

'Oh yeah, I remember her. Sadie, the owner and bartender,' Dean blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, 'man, looks like this liquor's taking a hold on me,' He grinned stupidly, "Yeah, yeah, 'm fine, yeah. Fine!" Dean couldn't believe that he was babbling.

"Well, you don't look that fine to me honey! Something bothering you?" She asked and slightly leaned to him.

"'S nothing. I'm okay Lady." Dean tried to stand up but stopped when a hand pushed him down to the stool.

"It's Sam, if I'm not mistaken?" Dean raised his eyebrows in astonishment as his protective instinct kicked in.

"How do you know my brother's name?"

Sadie smiled gently and removed her hand from Dean's shoulder, "Well, you're mumbling his name over here for a couple of minutes without noticing dear. And, I think I saw a boy with you one or two days ago," She smiled as she remembered the tall, lanky, sweet faced boy with the most beautiful eyes, "He was trying to get you out of here when you were full of liquor. Such a sweet boy."

'Oh c'mon, he and his puppy dog eyes. Always takes a hold on old ladies like 'm the grumpier onehere.' Dean thought wryly, "Well you haven't seen him when he starts b*tching." Dean grumbled and tried to grab another beer bottle.

"No boy, he aint the b*tchy type, as I measured him. If you ask me I'd say he is very caring type boy. I just saw a glimpse of him, but the look in his eyes made me think that he cares about everyone a lot. He cares about you a lot…I saw it in his eyes."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean murmured, but he totally couldn't deny it.

Sadie frowned but continued, "I know how you're feeling now Dean. I know what it feels when somebody lost someone. You lost someone you loved the most, but you can't blame others for this, can you Dean?"

Dean's mouth agape in shock. How the hell did this lady know so much about them? How did she…

"Who the hell are you and how did you know about my father's death?" Dean asked quite angrily, as he tried his best to control his raging temper, 'how dare she talk about their family matter like that, did Sam…'

"No Dean, Sam didn't tell me anything," The lady seemed to read his thoughts now, "And, he wasn't only your father, he was Sam's father too."

Dean stared at her but he couldn't find his words. "I know that look Dean, I know because I lost my beloved one too. I know the pain, the grief…" Sadie carded a hand through Dean's hair and then rested her palm on his cheek, "…but you have to be strong. Your brother needs you. He is very much tormented and he's not thinking straight. You have to be there for him before it's too late."

"Wh…what do you mean before it's too late? What's gonna happen?" Dean stammered as a pang of fear raised inside his chest.

Sadie smiled sadly, "Nothing bad's gonna happen as long you're around your brother Dean." Dean gasped in another shock, "Go to your brother before it's too late. Go."

Dean stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket from the table top. His only concern then was for his brother. He had managed to create enough damage, but he had to fix them up now. How he blamed Sam…, 'Oh my God, Sammy…' for their father's death, for everything and how he left him alone. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam. He had to reach Sam, he had to now before it's too late. He looked at his watch, it was only 7.00 pm; Sam should be in the café cum diner now, where he had been working since…since their father's funeral.

Dean bit his lower lip hard. A fresh wave of guilt was seeping through his veins. Sam had been working hard, wearing himself down for money that was really Dean's duty to earn. Dean knew that they needed money for living, but he was so wrapped in his own grief and wasted all remaining money on beer and fixing the car. He didn't even give it a thought that the money he had been spending was all of Sam's earnings. But his brother hadn't said a single word to protest, all he'd done was standing over him, lowering his head in shame, guilt, grief and accepted Dean's entire wrath on silence.

Dean hastily muttered a "thanks" to Sadie and ran out to the parked car. It was one of Bobby's junkyard cars, although still usable, it didn't always start right away. Six minutes later, after some colorful curses and countless attempts to start the car, almost drowning the engine in the process, Dean finally drove towards the café cum diner, breaking every speed record on the way.

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TBC

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