Hey, look...another post-season-5 fic!

Title from Coldplay's "Life in Technicolor ii." COLDPLAY FTW. \o/

Dean knows that he's dreaming. He just can't bring himself to care.

Lisa is there, standing just on the edge of his vision. She could help him, but she won't.

All of Sam's weight is on his arm-his little brother's grip is like iron, his eyes dark and calm. Like he's not afraid to die.

Lisa moves closer and Dean knows that if she touches him he's done, he'll let go and Sam will fall. "Help me," he grits out, shifting his weight.

Sam looks up at him and Dean already knows how this dream is going to end, but he wants it to be different this time. There's a look in Sam's eyes, the one he got when Dean wanted to watch 'The A-Team" instead of "Thundercats" and Sam would give him the remote.

Lisa could help, but she won't, and he's afraid that he already knows why.

"Dean," Sam says, and his voice is more familiar than the Impala, more familiar than breathing. Sam's voice is a thousand miles on back-country roads, summer nights with the stars wheeling overhead, the hot snap-crackle of fire and the roar of gunshots.

In that moment, Sam is everything. As far as Dean's concerned, it's Sam or nothing.

His hand is slipping on Sam's skin, but Sam's grip on his wrist is unyielding. His little brother loves him, but not in the way Dean wants.

Lisa moves a step closer, and it's her turn to talk. "Dean," she whispers, and she is something electric, something tingling under his skin, a feeling he can't shake, like the memory of crustless sandwiches and apple pie. "Let go," Lisa says.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam tells him, but it's not. Dean tightens his hold on Sam's arm. He can't hold him forever, not by himself.

"I can't," he tells them both, sweat sliding down his face like tears.

He wishes he could fight this dream. If he was stronger he could change it, maybe. Or maybe not. Some things you just can't fight.

Dean looks into Sam's eyes. There's no blame there, no anger or pain. Slowly, slowly he uncurls his fingers from Sam's wrist. Lisa's arms come around him as Sam falls into the dark.

Both of them love him, but not like he wants them to.

Lisa loves him enough to hold on.

Sam loves him enough to let go.

Love? Hate? Didn't care? Lemme know what you thought!