Thanks for the reviews! And to the person that said this story helped you stop wanting to cut, that meant a lot to me-just thought you should know :)

Dean slowly walked in the room. There was Sam all right, but hooked up machines. His hand was also completly bandaged. He remembered the doctors warning, about Sam looking different, but still shivered. He sat down next to him, unsure of what to do or say. He couldn't really hold Sam's hand. It was too bandaged, and he was afraid of hurting it more than usual.

"Why, Sammy?" He whispered, his voice breaking. "Why'd you do it? You're stronger than this. You really are." He shook his head. "I mean, that was one of the reasons why I went to hell. Because I knew, or I thought I knew that you'd be all right. That you'd be able to get through something like this. I never was as strong as...you, Sammy. Never." He bit his lip. "I'm not strong at all," he added. "I mean, I caved when Allaister offered me freedom from the torture. I mean, you wouldn't cave, would you? Dad wouldn't either...but I did." He let a tear drip from his eyes, knowing that Sammy was asleep. That he wouldn't hear him. "I caved, Sammy. I broke, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not the strong big brother that you thought I was. I'm not strong at all." He bit his lip. "If I lost you...I don't know what I'd do Sammy. I can't loose you. So you have to stop, okay? For me. Even though I don't deserve it, you have to stop. Please." His voice broke at that last sentence and looked up sharply as Sam moaned.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam blinked as he came back to reality again. "Where are we?"

Dean's first instinct was to yell at Sam. To scold him, but he bit back those sharp retorts. He knew that would be the last thing that Sam needed.

"You're at a hospital, Sammy," Dean said, trying to steady his voice. "You...you cut yourself too deep..." Screw it. His voice shook anyway. "You nearly died," he added. Sam stared at his hand.

"My hand," he asked, his own voice shaking. "What's wrong with it?"

Dean sighed.

"You damanged it pretty bad, Sammy," he said honestly. "They don't think you'll be able to move it again."

Sam stared at him.

"You mean it's paralized?" He let the question be spoken in a whisper. Dean nodded.

"Sam, I'm so sorry.." He began but Sam cut him off.

"So I can't go on hunts anymore?"

Dean stared at him.

"What?"

"If I can't carry a rifle that means that I..." Sam's voice trailed off. "I can't go on hunts anymore. I'd be more trouble than help."

"I guess that's true," Dean murmured. "Not about the trouble part!" He added quickly. "About the hunting. At least for a while..Sam..." He stared at his brother as Sam turned his face away, the expressions becoming bleak and dull and sullen. "Sam, I'm sorry.." Sam looked at him oddly. "For hitting you...for taking off like that. I feel like this is my fault partly.."

"You always feel like things are your fault," Sam said softly. "And they never are."

Dean sighed.

"I know, I know, but still," he muttered. "If I had stayed. Talked to you."

"It might have been worse," Sam decided. "You were pretty pissed off," he added. "You might have lost your temper again."

"True," Dean agreed. "That...that still doesn't make the guilt go away." He shook his head. "Sammy when I came back and I saw the ambulance..." His voice shook again. "And than I saw your body..." Sam closed his eyes. "I couldn't breathe," Dean continued. "I thought for a moment that you...you were dead."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Sam whispered in an apologetic tone.

"Than why?" Dean pressed. "Why'd you do it Sammy?"

"Because the emotional pain was too much," Sam muttered. "Losing you...it was just too much. And cutting...I focused on the physical pain, which I could deal with, rather than the emotional pain-which I couldn't...deal with... I'm sorry, Dean. I wasn't as strong as you thought I was...I couldn't go a day, sometimes, without...cutting myself."

His throat closed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I know," Dean sighed. "What's done is done, though." He gave a bad attempt at a smile. "Let's just get you well, okay?"

Sam nodded slowly, his mind still on his hand.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I'd like some time...alone please." The please sounded small and scared, and childlike. Dean stared at him and than at the hand and slowly nodded. He knew Sam had to deal with some things. And while he wanted to, he couldn't always help his brother deal with them.

"I'll be back soon," he promised and Sam nodded, almost sadly, as Dean walked out wondering if things would ever be the same again.

If they would ever be the same. It didn't look like that was happening anytime soon.

I know it's short, lol. But it's better than nothing-right? :)