Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
A/N (Rant): I feel like Sam isn't really allowed to have emotions anymore. I mean, he had a small outburst in the episode with the Shifter therapist, but the show focuses way more on Dean being emotional, even though Sam has to be hurting from their recent losses just as much as Dean. So, I wrote this. Enjoy!
It's a familiar situation—too familiar for his tastes, truth be told—to have his brother not breathing right in front of him. To have his brother, without a beating heart, splayed on the ground at his feet, and to be powerless to do anything more than cradle the shell that once held everything worth living for.
He waited three minutes and injected Dean with what was supposed to restart his heart, but that hasn't happened. His hands press down on Dean's chest, trying to restore a life that was willingly thrown away. With each second that passes, Sam feels tears burning behind his eyes before they leave bitter trails on his cheeks.
Why?
It's something he has to ask himself. Why? Why would Dean do this? Why does Dean feel like he has to throw his life away? Why does Dean feel like he has nothing left to live for?
What about Sam?
Yes, Dean's lost people. He's taken some hard hits, but Sam's still there. Why can't he see that? Why can't he see that he isn't alone?
Sam lets his hands fall to his sides, ready to break down completely in a matter of seconds, but who cares?
Dean's been the only thing he's had left for so long that, for him, there really is nothing left if Dean doesn't come back from this. If Dean's heart won't restart this time.
"Please…" Sam says, but he's not sure what he's begging for: Dean to come back, or Death to let Sam leave with him.
He's lost Jess, the only woman he ever truly loved. The only woman with whom he could see himself building a family.
"You can't do this, Dean. You can't."
He's lost his dad. There are a lot of things that he never said to his dad. There are a lot of issues he never resolved revolving around his father. Even now, more than a decade later, he feels a mix of guilt and bitterness over their fight once he revealed that he'd been accepted to Stanford.
Guilt for leaving his family.
Bitterness towards the ultimatum that drove him away.
Maybe a touch of regret for hurting Dean with his decision, but he knows that staying in the hunting life at that time would've killed him in every way that mattered.
"I can't…"
Ruby (as if she counts, but she was there when he needed someone the most). Sarah. Madison. Amelia. Lindsey.
Jess. Jess. Jess.
"I can't do this without you, man."
Kevin. Charlie. Missouri. Rufus. Andy. Ava. Jake. Lily. All the people who died just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because they knew the Winchesters. Because they wanted to help the Winchesters.
"You know that I can't…"
Bobby is gone, and Sam barely remembers it happening. His memories of that time are blurry and filled with hallucinations of Lucifer and torture inflicted upon him by his own mind. They're full of distractions and confusion, like distant fever dreams.
He almost feels bad that, even now, he views Bobby as more of a father than he ever did John. Bobby fought for them to have normalcy in their childhood to the point that he threatened to shoot John over their differing stances on raising children.
"I can't do anything right when you're gone."
Cas' loss hurts him, too, but not to the extent it hurts Dean. Sam gets that. He's always felt like the annoying little brother that big brother had to drag along when he went to hang out with friends. Maybe he was friends with Cas by association, but Cas was Dean's friend at the end of the day.
He just put up with Sam because their dependence on each other made them a package deal most of the time…
Some of the time. It isn't like it used to be. At least, not on Dean's end.
"I'm here," Sam says.
The loss of their mom is the loss of what could have been on Sam's part. Dean had her love. Her attention. Her trust.
Sam… Sam didn't have any of that. Now, he never will.
Mary's death is Dean's loss, too, because she was Dean's mom. She may have given birth to Sam as well, but she didn't want to deal with him as an adult. It was always Dean.
"I'm here," Sam says. His voice takes on a hysterical note, and he says it louder. "I'm here!"
He presses down on Dean's chest with renewed vigor.
"Why can't you see me?" he asks. "Why can't you see that I'm still alive?"
How many minutes have passed since that first injection?
"Why can't you see that I'm trying to help? Why can't you see that I just want you to be happy?"
How many more minutes can pass before Dean can't be saved?
Tears blur his vision, and Sam's strength wavers again.
"Why can't you see that I'm hurting, too?"
He knows that Dean has a flask on him. He always does. He hopes it's full, because he's about ready to drain it. If this is the day Dean dies, then it's a day Sam doesn't want to remember.
He loses his grip on his emotions for a moment, and a choked sob escapes his throat, shaking his shoulders.
"Why can't I be enough?" he asks.
There's no heat in his words. No anger. No frustration. No accusation.
There's only curiosity and sadness tinging his voice. He's always wanted to be enough for Dean, but he never has been.
If Dean decides that he doesn't want to come back to a world with only Sam, then Sam understands. How many times has he been a fuck up in Dean's eyes? How many times did he betray Dean? How many times was he a disappointment?
Hell, Sam is lucky that Dean never went through with the threat he left on Sam's voicemail. The one where he said he was done trying to save Sam. That he would kill him.
How many times did he try to convince himself that he wasn't waiting for that moment?
Maybe he should've taken the initiative like Dean has and done it himself.
Maybe if Dean doesn't come back from this…
But Dean heaves in a shuttering breath, and Sam recoils at the unexpected sound of it.
"Dean?"
He helps Dean sit up on auto-pilot, his head trying to wrap around how dark the world felt not even a full minute ago.
Dean is a little shaky, a little off balance, but Sam is ready to steady him if he needs it.
"Take a second to catch your breath," Sam says. He keeps his voice level, despite the fact that he feels flooded by emotions, most prominently by relief. "I'm here."
Dean looks at Sam, and he's feels small under the weight of Dean's inspection. But Dean cracks an odd half-smile that isn't quite happy, and Sam wonders how much, if any, of his desperation Dean witnessed while in The Veil.
"I know," he says. "I'm here, too."
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