Another stupid little thing I wrote randomly to give Misha feels. I'm not going to rewrite it or anything. It's set after Lilith and the Hell Hounds disappeared.
Sam shuts down when he doesn't wake up from his nightmare. He's so certain, as he watches helplessly while his brother is torn to shreds, that this is just a terrible dream. Everything is numb, so numb, and he can't believe what he's witnessing even as it happens right in front of him. He waits for what feels like forever, seconds spanning a lifetime, but he doesn't wake up. He blinks and pinches himself and screams in frustration, desperate and terrified, but he doesn't wake up.
There is a terrible silence that follows, like the world is waiting for the moment Sam realizes he's wide awake. Dean is laying on the ground not five feet from him, still and broken and covered in blood. He doesn't move, doesn't sit up and laugh and make fun of Sam for crying, doesn't do any of the things that Sam expects him to do.
Sam is pleading to whatever may be listening that this isn't real, but no matter how many times he screams please, no matter how many times he shakes his head and hits himself and begs for this to be a dream, nothing changes.
Dean is dead, burning in hell, and there's nothing he can do about it. That is the reality he's faced with.
