Sam stood watch, constantly just as close to his brother as they allowed him to be.
Just starting to be brothers again. . . He held back tears for what felt like the thousandth time today.
Why did it have to be Dean? He felt guilty for wishing that it could have been himself or Dad–Because he knew that Dean would be hurting more, blaming himself, if it were one of them. But still. Dean had always been more of a father to Sam than John ever had–And Sam would have the two trade places in an instant. He winced. Selfish. Sorry Dad.
Sorry Dean. for not protecting you.
He stared at his brother's still body, all attached to the many machines he now needed to stay alive.
How could it be? It just didn't make sense. Dean was the strong one. He was supposed to be invincible. He wasn't supposed to die at twenty-seven, because of a car crash.
It wasn't fair.
You can't go. Sam thought, staring at Dean as if his mental words could be projected into his brother's mind. As though they could change anything. I need you. You brought me back into this. You can't leave me alone now.
Sam looked around, making sure no one would see, and stepped inside.
He walked right up to the bed where his brother lay, cold and pale and so small looking.
"Dean." he whispered, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "You have to wake up. You know, we haven't even been together that long. And now you're going to leave? I–You can't do that. I haven't gotten to–I haven't even–It's been too long since I said. . . I love you." Sam sniffed and reached one hand to grip his brother's. "I do, you know. I know I haven't been good at showing it the past few–Too many years. . . And I'm so sorry. Now if you'll just give me a chance–Just come back. . . I'll do better, I swear. I swear to you, Dean." his voice choked off, and the tears started falling.
Sam knew Dean. he knew his brother could fight harder than he was. He also knew that Dean didn't think he had anything to live for. He thought his family hated him; saw him as a failure. If only Sam could get it across to him!
He clenched his teeth, frustration at his helplessness bubbling up in him, along-side the enormous weight of his crushing grief. And guilt for not giving Dean a reason to fight. Not giving him a reason, until it was possibly too late.
He pressed gently on Dean's chest with splayed fingers. "Dean! You need to hear me! You need to come back! I know you can!" the last part came out as a sob, and his hand fisted angrily. "You have to! I can't do it without you! Dad–Hunting–I can't!"
Sam stared down at his brother's still face, half expecting him to wake up, just to yell at Sam for being such a cry-baby girl.
But nothing. The beeping remained resolutely, monotonously, the same.
His eyes stayed firmly sealed shut, unmoving, unresponsive. "Dean, please."
He waited, waited, staring, hoping. . .
Nothing.