TITLE: Precautions 2

RATING: T

SUMMARY: Mystery Spot tag: This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd taken every precaution possible. Yet, here they were, back at Dean dying. Companion fic to 'Precautions'. Rated T because of slightly vivid descriptions of hopelessness.

WORDS: 2400

NOTES: Okay,first off, I'm kinda overwhelmed that I got so many people asking me to do a Sam version. And here I thought it was bad. Thank you very much for your amazingly kind reviews, you guys all made my day (and believe you me I needed that). Second, I find it endlessly amusing that I used to cringe at the sight of the words 'major character death' in a summary (still do) but now if it also has 'Mystery Spot', I think 'meh, whatever, Sam's gonna wake up again.'

I hope I don't disappoint with this one. Enjoy!

Away… away… away… gotta get away…

Sam knew he was acting strange. He knew that. But it was taking all he had to keep driving – albeit like a maniac – and he knew the moment he stopped he'd have a breakdown. And he really would prefer to do it somewhere where Dean wouldn't, couldn't, die. He knew Dean was worried – he'd be blind not to, what with Dean giving him concerned looks and asking questions in a tone that gave Sam the idea that Dean thought Sam was slightly unhinged – and he would have liked nothing more than to erase his concerns, but that was before Tuesday had become the only day of the week. Sam's jaw tightened. He can't die here. There's no way.

Sam drove them for an hour, fast as he could go, while making sure there were no cars, or tractors, or random rampaging bulls on Dean's side. Or anywhere near him for that matter. He got them to the open field, told Dean to stay put and not even move a muscle, accepted Dean's mixed look of exasperation and concern and went over to Dean's side of the car to open his door for him, telling him to mind his head and using his hand to make sure he did. Cue another look. Sam ignored him. He took the basket in the trunk, grabbed Dean's arm and got them moving at a slightly faster than normal rate. If a sinkhole opened, he'd pull Dean out.

At some point during their great-runaway-from-fate, Dean quit his incessant questioning and wrenched his arm away, absolutely refusing to move. He just stood there and demanded Sam give him answers or they were going nowhere. And Sam's exterior cracked a little – he couldn't have helped it if he'd tried, and he didn't because Dean needed to know how desperate he was – a minute bit of his inner panic bleeding out. It must have been enough, because Dean's face went tight with worry, but he allowed Sam to latch on to him again and resumed walking without another word.

Sam got them a little over a mile away from the car, far enough that Dean had started to stumble just a tiny bit. Sam may have had adrenaline giving him endless energy, but Dean didn't. They hadn't even had breakfast yet. So, Sam stopped, set his little picnic, refusing to let Dean do anything, and then told him to sit down, slowly, Dean, and sat down himself. He unpacked the lunch and waited, feeling restless, on edge and paranoid, feeling the wind and the suspiciously comforting warmth of the sun. He waited until Dean sighed. Then he felt bad for worrying his brother, deemed their surroundings safe for the billionth time, took a deep breath and explained his behavior.

To say Dean looked shocked would be like saying Sam was slightly taller than the average girl. He knew he had rivulets streaming down his cheeks but he couldn't care less because Dean was sitting right there, safe and alive and Sam knew, no matter how much he hoped otherwise, that it wasn't going to stay that way for long. He could do anything he liked, but Dean would still end up dead and Sam would still be alone in the world for that terrible second before he woke up in the motel again to that god-awful song. Sam was losing hope they'd ever break the cycle, thinking he was doomed to an eternity of losing his brother over and over. Maybe this was God's way of telling them that one of them should have stayed dead. Maybe it was punishment. Maybe Sam had died in Cold Oak that day and this was hell. Maybe…

Sam wasn't aware he'd been talking until he heard Dean reply.

"Sam?" Dean waited until his brother met his eyes. "It's okay. I believe, you. It's okay. You won't have to. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." And wow. Would it be ironic to call it déjà vu if he knew what he'd seen was real?

"That's what you always say, Dean," Sam argued pointlessly, seemingly unable to stop his tears from leaking. "And then-" he choked, continued, "you always d-die." Was he having a heart-attack? Because, while he would love to have the cycle broken, Dean was still getting over losing Sam and seeing Sam die as many times as Sam had seen him, might just break him in a way it hadn't broken Sam. He wasn't selfish enough to want his brother to suffer in his place.

He wondered if killing himself before Dean had a chance to die would do it. But then he figured that Dean would try to stop him and it would end up like the axe. Still, it was as good a plan B as any.

Oblivious to Sam inner monologue, Dean continued. "Sammy," he said softly. "It'll be okay."

Sure, Dean. You'll just die in my arms again. It'll be fine. "But Dean-" Sam protested weakly.

"No buts, Sammy. We'll get through this." Dean's voice was weird on that one. Sam quickly looked up and bit back a scream of madness.

Dean's face was flushed and he had sweat covering his face, he was gasping for breath and he looked like he was having a major headache, if the way he was clutching his head was any indication. If Dean died here for absolutely no understandable reason, Sam wouldn't care if it was punishment from God; he'd march up to heaven and stick as many knives and bullets as necessary to make him stop.

"Hey… you okay? Dean?" Sam noticed in a detached sort of way that his voice was high and panicked and his drying eyes were wetting again, blurring his vision. He felt the horror coursing through his veins as he watched Dean getting redder and redder, still unable to breathe. Sam vaguely remembered having learnt about all this before but he couldn't recall where or what to save his life.

"S'm… wha…?" Dean seized, convulsing, gasped, sweat pouring down his face. "Sam… wha's goin' on?"

"I-I don't know, Dean. What- I- Dean!" Dean fell over, seemingly unable to control his own body. Sam heart was in his throat and it must have been filled with bile because that's what he could taste. He crawled over to his older brother, gathered him in his arms, sobbing into him that he couldn't go, he wasn't allowed to go, not again, you promised, Dean.

"S'mmy," Dean's voice was sluggish and slurred and Dean wasn't supposed to sound like that on a perfectly normal day with the wind blowing and the sun shining–

The sun shining…

"I don't want to watch you die again, Dean." Sam was just sobbing now, repeating half sentences that almost didn't make any sense, only they made a depressing amount of sense and wasn't that just the terrible truth?

The sun shining… flushed… can't breathe… sweating… slurred speech…

It couldn't possibly be, but it was. Somehow, on a beautiful, calm, windy day, it was possible.

"Sam," Dean's voice was commanding and that was just something Sam couldn't ignore. "Wha's…" Dean swallowed. Sam could feel his heart beating painfully hard against his ribs. "What's… happenin'?"

Maybe he couldn't recall it to save his life. But he could do it to save Dean's. "You're… you're having a heatstroke." Sam's voice was surprisingly stable for a person who wanted nothing more than to scream his lungs out and yell at the universe for doing this to them. And then suddenly, with a vice-like grip on his heart, came the realization that Dean was dying. That he would be dead in under a minute if Sam couldn't cool him down, which he couldn't. There was no water or shade around, the car was over a mile away, and while Sam was a human in peak physical condition, even he couldn't run there, grab their ice chest – if not be able to bring the car around – and be back in time to save Dean. And he wouldn't even try, because that would mean Dean would die alone. They didn't have a lot of fears, but Dean had always made it clear that if he did die, he didn't want to be alone. Sam had told him he shouldn't think about that and Dean had just laughed, right in his face, shaking his head like he thought Sam was naïve. So, Sam would honour his dying brother's wish: he would stay with him. Sam's whole body heaved with his sobs.

"S'mmy, 'm… sorry-"

"N-no, Dean. Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay. You p-promised, remember?" And while Sam knew that Dean was dying, he was also a little brother whose older brother had never broken a promise to him. He had to try.

Dean smiled at Sam sadly, and just like that, Sam knew this would be the one time that Dean didn't have the choice to keep his promise. At that point, Sam just let go, his body trembling with the force of his grief. It was all he could do to not lose it, snap, and make Dean watch his little brother go mad.

"S'm. It'll be… 'kay. You'll… be o-kay."

Dean was dying, yet he was the one comforting Sam, who was crying like a girl all over him. Sam knew he should get a grip, maybe help Dean… somehow. But he didn't want to. He wanted to help Dean, yes, but he didn't want to get a grip. It hurt too much, and Sam was done with pain. It wasn't over, oh, he knew it wasn't over, but no matter how many times he went through this, it hurt just as much – if not more – every time.

Sam felt Dean moving. He watched Dean move his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. So, automatically, he paid attention to his brother's brilliantly green eyes that still had a huge amount of life left in them. Dean was fighting to stay, but they both knew he was going to lose soon. So, Dean told Sam everything he wanted to, just with his eyes. Sam's sobs quietened but tears still poured out, like his body was expelling all the liquid it contained through his eyes. He read everything and at last thing he saw, he begged Dean one last time to stay, voice hoarse with all the crying and the utter, crushing anguish, heart all but broken. And then…

"I'm s-s-sorry, Dean. I'm s-so sorry. I love you. Please…" and then Sam's voice failed him, too.

Dean sent one last look his way, telling Sam they'd get through this, and then they closed forever.

And for that one terrifying, horrible moment, Sam was all alone in the world, a picnic all around him and his dead brother in his arms. Sam clutched Dean closer, breathed in the smell of his hair and let himself break down completely and utterly.

And then everything turned dark and Sam felt himself floating to conscious. He screamed in his own head and then his ears started functioning.

It was the heat of the moment…

END

Author's note: Okay, wow, I had way too much fun writing this. Nearly made myself cry during some of these parts, so, I hope I made you cry. I have no shame. Please tell me if you liked it, or if there is something you'd like me to change. And thank you all so very much for your reviews in the last story. In the first story, it says that they got 'a little less than a mile' away from the car. That's from Dean's point of view who'd just woken up a few hours ago, had had a hard night of little-to-no sleep because of nightmares of Hell (huh, maybe I should write a story about that… nightmares of Hell…) and no food. He was tired and miscalculated the distance. I'm pretty sure there's something else I changed from the original story, but for the life of me I can't remember. I'm a bit like Dean right now: sleep and food deprived. Anyway, I hope you liked this, and enjoyed reading it. Leave a review to tell me what you thought.

To the two guests who reviewed to whom I could not reply:

-Thank you for taking the time to review! I love Jared's acting, too. It's just so amazing, it's like he actually is Sam, and the way he can channel everything Sam's feeling into his own eyes is absolutely mind-blowing. I am honestly going to cry for two days straight when Supernatural ends.

-Thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked it. I hope you liked my attempt at a sort of sequel.