Disclaimer: If this were mine, the show would consist of nothing but chick-flick moments and brotherly schmoop. But as it is, Supernatural has a plot. So clearly, it does not belong to me.

AU after episode 7x04

"Dean!" The voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but the panic in it was obvious. "Answer me, man!" And Dean wanted to, but he couldn't even open his eyes, much less figure out how to make his mouth work. "C'mon! Just tell me you're okay! Please!"

"S'mmy," he slurred, entire body heavy, inches from sleep. And getting up sounded like absolutely no fun whatsoever. "S'm..."

"Dean?" The voice seemed closer, louder. Which could have been a good thing, comforting even, if it didn't sound even more panicked. "I need you to talk to me, 'kay?" ...Talk? Why would he talk? Every time he talked, something huge and big and important snapped in half. No, whenever he escaped from whatever half-awake, dream-state he was locked in, Dean was going to take a vow of silence.

"Can' do tha- S'mmy," he whispered, curling farther in on himself. At least he thought he did. He didn't honestly know though, because he couldn't feel the ground. If there was a ground. Which he wasn't convinced there was. "Too tired..."

"No! -ean! Don'... sleep! Don'... Dean!" Sam seemed to be on the edge of a mental breakdown. And Dean felt bad about that. He really did. But at that moment, he couldn't figure out why. At that moment, he couldn't really figure out why Sam was yelling at him at all. Not like this. Yelling at him in another way, screaming at him for everything he had done... That he could understand. That he knew he deserved. But the concern in his brother's voice was going to make him sick.

If it was possible to be sick in a dream.

"'m s'rry..." The darkness that was all around him seemed so tempting, he couldn't really deny it. But then, when had he ever been able to deny anything tempting? And that was probably part of why he was in the mess he was. "'m s'rry, S'mmy..."

When Sam started yelling at him again, he was almost glad he could barely hear it, that Sam's words kept cutting in and out like a crappy cell phone connection. And in the back of Dean's hazy mind, he wondered if he was in a tunnel. "Shut... Dean! ...'ease! Don'... sle'p... De'n!"

And a part of him was relieved when Sam's voice began to disappear completely. A very small part. The rest of him felt the loss like a physical pain, a strange ache moving through his body, increasing the quieter Sam got. Like he was being pulled apart, like something vital had been stretched to its breaking point. And he vaguely wondered if he'd die when it snapped. It felt like it. And honestly, he was almost looking forward to it. "'m s'rry..."

And he let go of whatever was holding him together, let go of the tether that kept him floating.

And he fell.

Gasping, Dean jerked upright, nearly dislocating his arms in the process. Chest heaving, eyes darting around, it took him far longer than it should have to remember where he was. At least he remembered to be relieved that there were no leviathans in the room. "Shit..." he breathed, dropping his head back against the pole, wincing when it made contact.

His leg was lying useless on the ground, shoulder aching steadily. And he wondered how long it would be until infection set in. Because really, how often did leviathans brush their teeth?

Closing his eyes, he couldn't keep his brain from going back to the dream. The very tiny optimistic part of him wanted to say that it was really Sam, that the bond or whatever they had was working and that he had actually been talking to his brother. But when had that very tiny optimistic part of him ever been useful? Never. Absolutely never. Besides, if Sam had been in his head, who knows what he had picked up in there. Probably more than enough ammo to lord over Dean for the rest of forever.

So it was a dream. A pain-induced, trippy dream that was not an indication that Sam was going to be able to find him at all. Besides, he wasn't even sure he wanted Sam to find him. Whatever plan the leviathans had, they needed Sam to pull it off. And Dean had hurt that kid more than enough for a lifetime. There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone else make it worse.

So yeah, it was definitely a dream.

And, honestly, it wasn't so far off to have a dream of the one person you want to see more than anyone else in the entire world when you were sure you were going to die. Not that far off at all.

And the fact that he found himself waiting to pass out again?

That was totally unrelated.

"Dean!" Sam was louder this time, clearer, less muffled. And Dean had to wonder what that meant, if it meant anything at all. Better reception, maybe. Had escaped the tunnel... "Answer me!"

"Jeez... Bossy bitch," Dean grumbled, wishing he could just float in oblivion forever. Because it was pretty nice. Though he could do without the yelling. Yelling was unpleasant.

He heard an annoyed huff, the one that could only be pulled off by Sam. Honestly, Dean had no idea how he did it. No one should be able to put that much bitchiness into a single sound. It was unnatural. "Y'gotta help me out here, Dean. I can't hold it on my own." And Dean had no idea what he was talking about. No idea at all, but he figured it was important. Which made it important enough to get him to pry his eyelids open, only to find that the outside of his eyes looked nothing like the inside.

"Holy-!" Dean shot up, vaguely realizing that nothing hurt, that his leg seemed to actually be usable. The novelty of that shriveled up and died pretty quickly though because he was outside. He was in a clearing in the middle of a goddamn forest. And really? Just... really?

"Dean!" And that was when Dean realized Sam's voice was coming from somewhere in the trees. And that Sasquatch footsteps were crunching twigs and leaves and just generally disturbing everything they possibly could.

"Sammy?" he called, because what the hell? This was the strangest acid trip he had ever been on. Ever. "Sam?"

"Nice job, asshole." And suddenly Sam was there, standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest as he took in their surroundings. And okay, Dean was still kind of stuck on the whole, "surroundings" part. Because what...the...hell!?

And he hadn't gotten past that when Sam stalked forwards, crossing in front of Dean, sticking his hand into the ring of trees surrounding them. "You have any idea how long it took me to get here?" And Dean could have made a guess if he had any idea where here was. "And your mind is a disturbing place," Sam added, half-glaring at him. Like this was somehow all his fault. Like Dean had complete control over everything that was going on. Like this was Dean's-

...Well, shit.

Dean could feel his jaw working, but he couldn't hear any sound. So he supposed he wasn't making any. Which was a little annoying because there was a traffic jam in his throat and all the words were stuck. The cop that was supposed to be directing them had gone home early.

Bastard.

His negligence had allowed the word, "Holy," to run a stop sign and crash into the word, "shit." And they were both so totaled that they couldn't move out of the middle of the intersection and the ambulance had yet to show up and it was possible that "Holy" had committed vehicular homicide and-

"Hey!" Dean snapped, jumping back, batting at the hand that was poking at his shoulder. And his head. And his ribs.

Sam was staring at him, chewing on his lip, eyebrows narrowed as he looked for any obvious damage. "You okay? You gotta talk to me, man, 'cuz right now your showin' all the symptoms of a concussion."

Realizing that yes, Sam really was freaked out, Dean coughed, clearing the block in his throat so that he didn't squeak when he said, "My mind? Sam?" And now he was back to, really!?

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes darting to the woods around them. "Yeah... Look, I don't really have time to explain everything. The bond's not strong enough to hold me so I need you to tell me what's going on," he said, gaze locking onto Dean's face. And honestly, Dean was too confused to even process that statement. Then again, he figured he should be excused because if he was reading this correctly, his mind was a maze of trees. "Dean!" Sam snapped, literally snapping his fingers in front of Dean's face. And that only made Dean jump, made him reflexively smack his brother's hand away. "Leviathans. Go."

And really, for someone that had been miles away from lucid the last time Dean had seen him, he was much too demanding. Especially when it was apparently Dean's lack of presence that had returned him to lucidity. "Um... Okay," Dean decided, pushing his hand through his hair as he turned around, starting to pace. "Um... Well... I know they want you. For something. Or Lucifer for something. Or something like that..."

"M'kay..." Sam's gaze turned distant, spaced out, like he was listening to something Dean couldn't hear. And Dean realized that probably wasn't a good thing because Sam needed to stay with him. He needed to not vanish into his head and disappear forever again. Because Dean couldn't do that. He couldn't watch Sam fade away into nothingness. And as possible as it was that this was a really strange, infection-induced dream, it was equally possible that it wasn't. And either way, he wasn't going to waste this chance - maybe his last chance - to see Sam again.

"Sammy?" he whispered, gently pushing at his brother's shoulder. And that seemed to work because Sam shook his head, pulling himself back to the present.

"Sorry," he said, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I'm not... really supposed to be here..." And then it was his turn to pace, hands pressed together, sides of which held against his lips. "So... They want something from Lucifer."

"Yeah." Though Dean had no idea what. Because Lucifer was in Hell, locked in the cage. What he could possibly do for them... Dean wasn't sure he even wanted to know. Because it was Lucifer and anything involving Lucifer was bad. Very, very bad.

Sam nodded his head jerkily, footsteps becoming more and more uneven. And when Dean looked, he could see his brother's hands shaking. "Okay... Okay. Ok-" Sam was cut off by a muffled cry, heels of his hands driving into his eyes. Like he was trying to push them straight through his skull. Scratching, like he was trying to reach in and yank his brain out. And okay, that was definitely not an image Dean needed.

Before he had even consciously made the decision, Dean was at his brother's side, grabbing his shoulders, watching Sam bend over to nearly half his gigantic height. "Sammy? Y'okay? Sam!?" And no. Of course he wasn't okay. Stupid reflexive question. Stupid question he no longer even thought about before it came out of his mouth. And as Sam nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, as he huddled in on himself, sinking to his knees, Dean made the executive decision to never ask that question again. Because Sam always answered with a lie. And Dean knew that that was his fault. "Sam-"

"Just-" Sam held up his hand, staring imploringly into Dean's eyes. "Gimme a sec." And despite every fiber in his body telling him not to, Dean did. He stepped back, watching as his brother's eyes fell vacantly to the ground, chest heaving in desperate breaths, his entire body shaking with something other than the cold. Because it was warm inside Dean's head apparently. Whatever that meant.

Finally, Sam stopped trembling, squeezing his eyes closed. And that was all the okay Dean needed. He was next to him in the next second, hand wrapped around the side of his neck. "What the hell was that?" But then, what the hell was anything anymore?

Sam shook his head, peeling his eyes open and straightening up. "Lucifer. Trying to pull me back. 'm okay now," he added, looking up into Dean's eyes like he was afraid for Dean. Like Dean was the one that needed to be reassured. Like Dean was the one that had just nearly collapsed. Like Dean was the one that had been destroyed by Lucifer.

Like Dean was the one that had been ripped apart by everyone and everything he had ever come into contact with.

And that was it, wasn't it? This entire time, that had been everything. Why was he so goddamn slow? As the words of the leviathans echoed in his head, Dean whispered something almost never did: "I'm sorry." So quiet, almost silent. But Sam somehow heard it anyway because Sam's eyes locked onto his. Or rather, they were locked where Dean's eyes should have been. Instead, he couldn't force himself to look away from the ground in front of his brother. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he repeated, "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Don't be, Dean." And Dean knew he meant it. Which just made everything so much worse. "I got out," he said, a hesitant smile, a half-shrug, like that was supposed to make everything better. "You got me out, man. What doesn't have a few issues?"

And Dean wanted to answer that there shouldn't be issues. Because Sam never should have gone to Hell in the first place. "You're not supposed to," Dean forced out through his quickly tightening throat. "You're not-" He just wasn't. And Dean felt something seize in his chest, shatter into pieces at the thought that he had so much control over Sam. Sam was the strongest person Dean knew. Even after everything, he was still the child that believed there was good in everyone - except himself (Dean's fault). The same child that would fight tooth and nail to protect anything he deemed important - but not himself (Dean's fault). The same child that would throw himself in front of a wendigo to save someone he cared about - but would never save himself (again, Dean's fault). And to maintain that when the world had been working against him since long before he was even a thought in their parent's minds, to still believe in so much, to still be so damn forgiving and good after everything he had been through, he had to be stronger than anyone and anything else that had ever existed.

And yet, he could be broken so easily... But only by Dean. Only Dean. "But you have to know... Amy? I did that for you. You have to know that."

His brother's face tightened, a tension washing over his body that never should have existed. Pushing himself back, Sam shrugged out of Dean's grip, standing up. "Dean, you keep talkin' about that and I'm gonna be kicked out of here a lot faster."

"Why?" Dean demanded. But he didn't really need an answer. Sam just had to stare at him, and he got it. It was the bond. It was all the bond. It was physical - or metaphysical? - proof of their brotherhood, of their relationship. And when their relationship was strained, the bond was too. Which was why it kept weakening. Which was why it had just weakened even more. And that had to stop. It was just going to keep unraveling, keep fading and fading and fading and Dean couldn't allow that. That could not happen. "I can't explain myself to you, m'kay?" he continued, ignoring his brother's warning.

"Dean-"

"And there's nothing I can say to make it better-"

"Shut up, Dean. I can feel it pulling-"

"Because yeah, I killed her. I did-"

"I'm gonna lose it, Dean-"

"But I didn't kill her because she was a monster... mostly-"

And Sam's image started to fade, started to shift and jump, like it was trying to force itself to stay when everything was trying to pull it back. But Dean didn't stop talking. He kept going because this was important. It was everything. This had always been everything.

"Oh my god- Dean, you idio-"

"Or because I didn't trust you or whatever else you're thinking."

"I'm thinking I'm the same as her!" Sam snapped and Dean could feel the anger flowing from him, the power of it shifting through him, around them. "And you killed her!" He flickered, disappearing entirely for a fraction of a second. And Dean felt the panic that was specifically reserved for Sam, the all-consuming fear he always felt when faced with losing him. Because he was literally disappearing in front of his eyes, fading away as Dean watched. "They were drunks and scumbags and your life is worth way more to me than theirs or anybody else's ever would be!"

After that, it all froze. Dean's eyes, which had been determinedly focused on the ground, flickered up, staring at his now washed out brother. His brother that wasn't flickering anymore. And that seemed to scare Sam far more than the flickering did.

"What're you doing?" Sam demanded, pressing his hand to his head. "Dean, what the hell are you doing!?" The trees swayed, leaves rustling, shaking with a sudden, invisible force.

The pressure was already building in Dean's head, the break approaching. But until it reached them, he just smiled, not cocky and sure, but it was there and it was real. "I'm holding on," he answered, eyes flickering around. "Somewhere in here, there's a me holding on very tight to a weak spot on a tether. 'cuz it seems to wanna snap and I can't let that happen."

"Dean-" Sam started to warn, gaze darting to the forest around them.

"I can't let that happen until you listen to me so shut up, Sam, 'cuz I'm not trained in this thing and can only hold on for a minute," he demanded in a voice that sounded far too much like his father's for his liking. But it seemed to work because his brother's mouth snapped shut, probably more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. He even seemed a little impressed.

Digging his nails into the palm of his hand to try to relieve some of the strain, to try to divert his attention, Dean continued, "Like I said, I have no explanation. And there is no excuse. But I will say that I didn't kill her because of anything you just said." His entire body started shaking and he saw Sam try to take a step forwards, only to be pulled back into his spot by an invisible force. An invisible tether. The one yanking from the other side that Dean was trying so very hard to counteract.

"Dean, you need to let go," Sam told him, eyes wide and almost afraid. "You can't- Let go of the damn thing, Dean."

But Dean ignored him, just stepped forwards, hands gripping a nearly invisible shoulder, thumb smoothing over a fading pulse point. He knew he only had another moment before he had to do as Sam asked because he could feel the stress building. And even he had some semblance of a survival instinct. "I killed her because you couldn't... And she knew it."

And there was one moment where Sam opened his mouth to say something, something that Dean would have really liked to hear. But there wasn't time. There wasn't anymore time. And Dean had to finish. "Promise me you won't come. Promise me you won't. I can't- They'll kill you. Tell me you won't come." Because that was the only thing that was important.

There was a single moment of silence as Sam stared at him, a protest most likely sitting right on the tip of his tongue. But whatever he saw in Dean's gaze must've meant something. Because he nodded and Dean felt relief crash over him. The pressure in his mind even released somewhat, weakening, the trees calming, returning to stillness.

Silence. A second of silence and relief.

But then his brother was yanked backwards out of his grip, both his physical and his metaphorical one... That is, if either could really be considered physical.

And as Dean shouted his name, he fell, wondering why it seemed like Sam had disappeared before he had let go.

This was the second time he had jerked awake, mind grasping for something just out of reach, something that had been lost. And until he managed to drag it back to himself, he felt detached. Because he was searching for something that was supposed to be there but suddenly wasn't. So his mind really wasn't there.

It was too busy looking for Sam.

A/N: There are about six chapters left. I hope this one wasn't too disappointing.

Thank you to everyone for sticking with me! We're almost at the end. Promise! :)