Futile

Stuck in the veil like every other soul, Dean watches.

Sam maneuvers his body into his large arms, and for all the toughness and hard, toned muscles shaped through stubborn and pain and sweat, he's surprisingly gentle. Careful. Like he's handling a fragile masterpiece made of thin glass.

Although he's a good four inches shorter than his younger brother, he isn't exactly light, and so he had often heard Sam complain about his heavy weight whenever he had needed to drag him to the car because he was too banged up himself to do the work.

But now... now, Sam's quiet. Not a single peep of frustration and exasperation as he carries his corpse to his beloved car despite his trembling arms, and he doesn't know whether it's the weight of his body or the weight of his grief that's quaking his knees. But still, he knows it isn't easy lifting a one-eighty hundred pounds body.

His body's completely malleable as Sam adjusts him on the seat into a more comfortable position even though it won't really matter, his movements still tender and careful, and there's warmth and love and sorrow and grief warring in his chest for his little brother.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Sam begins softly, his voice shaking and tight as he pulls out the supplies from the first aid kit and starts to clean all the blood and cuts on his face. "You are such a friggin' idiot. For taking on that Mark, for going after Metatron alone without me."

Dean wants to apologize, even though he already knows it's pointless. Sam won't hear him.

But he does it anyway, "Sorry, little brother."

There's silence in return. Sam doesn't say anything afterwards, just keeps glancing up at Dean's newly cleaned face as he works on stitching the stab wound that took his life away on his chest with those huge, watery and red puppy eyes and he keeps biting his quivering lip as if trying his hardest not to cry and goddamnit if there isn't anything more Dean wanted to do in that moment other than hug the crap out of him.

"Jesus, Dean," then Sam chokes out, a sob caught in his throat as the tears fall free and he brings up a hand to clam it over his mouth and muffle it, and that feeling in Dean seems to intensify a little more. He wants to say something, do something, but he already knows it will all just be futile.

And so he just stands there, stuck in the veil like every other soul.

And he watches.

Author's Note: Oh maaah God. Did Alex just post two stories in one day? *gaaaaasp* It's a miracle! *pigs start flying, fishes start rollerskating on land, the skies start falling*

Heheh, okay, a wee bit of an exaggeration. Well, that was an understatement. Geez, I'm just not good at estimating, okay? *cries*

Anyways, this bad boy just came to me... well, that's it. It just came to me... *blinks* Uh, I don't really remember how. I think I was just lying on my bed, trying to sleep and minding my own business, and it happened. Woo, most adventurous story of the year... *rolls eyes*

I don't know, I'm just in a snarky mood today. *smile*

Thanks to everyone who have been there to support me all the way until now. I'm so glad to have found this site and this fandom and you all! *wraps octopus arms around everyone* You're all awesome, as always!