"Fix me a coffee would you, Sammy. I'm feeling kinda woozy."
Alarmed, Sam glanced across at him. Admitting any kind of weakness was anathema to Dean.
"Kinda woozy, how? Sam asked, getting to his feet and placing a hand on Dean's forehead.
Dean slapped it away with a huff. "Dude, don't handle the merchandise."
Sam rolled his eyes. As if he hadn't medicated every inch of Dean's body throughout the years!
:
"Dean, you admitting any kind of weakness is a big red flag to me. Now out with it."
"It's not my body that's feeling like this, it's something I can't put my finger on, or maybe I can," Dean admitted in a rare moment of honesty.
"I'm tired, Sam. Inside, you know?… We have the responsibility of the universe on our shoulders. Stopping God? How's that even possible and do we really want to? Maybe killing God triggers Armageddon anyway."
"Don't torture yourself like that, Dean. At the end of the day, we can only try our best and if it's not enough, we die along with billions of others."
Somehow Sam's words made him smile. "Dying along with billions of others, huh?"
Sam shrugged.
"Make sure you're next to me when that happens, Sammy. The last time we held hands was when you were seven, I guess it's time to hold them again now that you're thirty-seven."
With a fond smile, Sam slipped a hand into his brother's causing Dean to look up at him in surprise.
"Just in case we can't, better to anticipate."
"You're such a girl, Sammy," Dean chuckled, but he didn't let go.