Hey guys! This was also from that 64 prompts thing. This prompt is "Sky". Enjoy!

Sam leaned against the side of the Impala, raising the brown bottle to his lips and taking a swig of beer. The sour liquid washed down his throat and a smirk wound onto his face as he heard Dean curse lightly from under the raised hood.

"Having some issues?" He called, finished off his beer in one last swallow.

"No." Dean snapped crossly. Sam held back a snarky reply, rolling his eyes. His older brother had been in a bad mood since the last hunt. Though, Sam didn't really blame him. He wasn't in the best of moods either, and every time he closed his eyes he could still clearly see the resigned face of the woman as she was ripped apart mercilessly.

Shaking his head, Sam pushed off the Impala. Okay, so he'd taken some more damage than he'd told Dean. His steps staggered and he fall back, the bright blue sky reeling above him as he found himself lying on his back.

Dean heard the sickening thud of Sam's 6'4 frame hit the ground/. His head popped out from under the hood to see his little brother sitting on the ground holding the back of his head with pain etched across his face.

"You good?" Dean called, backing away from the car and picking his way through the tools littering the pavement around the Impala to bend down in front of Sam.

"Yeah." Sam waved Dean away, pushing himself to his feet. His face paled considerably and his swayed before finding his balance.

"Sure?" Dean asked reluctantly. He wasn't sure the younger man was telling him everything.

"I'm fine." Sam assured firmly, pushing away his hovering brother. Not that Sam didn't like that Dean was worried about him, but he was a little frustrated with the mother hen routine. Sam wasn't sure why, but his elder brother had been especially worrisome lately. Sam figured it had something to do with the fact that it was Satan vision in his head.

"Whatever." Dean huffed, going back to his car. Sam pulled a face at his back, wincing as a flash of pain shot through him. Karma he supposed, for acting so immature.

Fine was a relative term, really. He was far from fine mentally. But physically, he'd be okay. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he glanced up as Dean gripped the hood tightly and slammed it shut.

"She gonna be okay?" Sam asked curiously as Dean wiped his hands on a rag and then rubbed it across his grease spattered face.

"Yeah, she's fine." Dean patted the top of his sturdy car, grinning. Sam smiled as the two climbed in, pulling back onto the blacktop. Sam rested his forehead on the cool window, ignoring the pain flashing through his body, and stared up at the birds in the sky.

How he wished he could be up there with the birds. The life got to him. A lot. He didn't know how Dean could do it so easily, but then again, Sam had always been the sensitive one. Sometimes, Sam wished he had never left Stanford with his brother all those years ago. He hated himself for even bothering with the notion, but it chewed at him every day. Maybe Jess would still be alive. Maybe they'd be married. Sam would be graduated, a successful lawyer. He wouldn't have gone to hell. Dean wouldn't have died and gone to hell. He never would have released Lucifer and started the apocalypse. Their dad would have found and killed the yellow eyed demon with no problem. Despite himself, Sam smiled humorlessly. It never could've happened that way. His so-called friends had been demons. They would've struck eventually. Sam was better off with Dean. This was where he belonged, in the passenger seat of the 1967 Chevy Impala with Legos in the vents that rattled when the heater was on and army men stuck in the ashtrays.

No matter how much Sam realized and accepted this, though, he couldn't shake the heavy, oppressing feeling that came from all of his what-if's.

"Thinking about what might've been isn't going to get you anywhere." Sam blinked with startled awareness, turning to look at Dean. His older brother wasn't looking at him, eyes instead trained on the never ending road.

"How did you…"

"It's gonna destroy you, Sam. All of this regret, the doubt, the guilt. It'll chew away at your mind until there's nothing left." Sam heard the underlying words: You're already going crazy. "You can't let it get to you like this. What's done is done. The past is in the past. We're fucked up man, pretty much beyond repair. Hell does that to a person. But you gotta look forward, put one foot in front of the other." Sam wasn't sure if Dean's intent was to make him feel better, or if it was to tell it like it is. The latter sounded more like Dean.

"I'm tired of life, man." Sam admitted. "I just want to die." Of course Dean knew that. He frequently felt that way too. But to hear the words spoken out loud in his brother's deep and broken voice struck a chord in him. His hands tightened on the wheel and his jaw clenched painfully. He unknowingly pushed harder on the accelerator, lurching the Impala forward even faster.

"Too damn bad, Sammy. You don't get out that easy." Dean replied curtly. Sam nodded, letting out a sight.

"I know." It fell silent in the car again. Not even the radio was playing. Both brothers were stuck deep in thought, neither one of them even realizing the other was there.

"Do you want to go back?" Dean asked suddenly. He wasn't exactly sure what had possessed him to ask the question so abruptly. His heart pounded painfully in his throat as he waited in anticipation for Sam's answer.

Dean didn't need to elaborate for Sam to know he meant Stanford. He pondered the question thoughtfully. Did he?

"No." he replied, not missing Dean's tense shoulders sag with relief. "I like to think I would. Maybe I could have another chance at being normal." He laughed dryly, shaking his head and letting his bangs cover his eyes. "No, I belong with you, hunting. I always have, and I'm done trying to fool myself otherwise." Dean frowned, staring straight ahead as his fingers curled even tighter around the wheel. He thought maybe they would break.

"I wish things were different, Sammy. I really do. I wish you could be normal. I wish I hadn't dragged you back in. You were so close to being out." He'd voiced it many times before, but it never lessened his inconsolable guilt. He was the one who carelessly yanked Sam back in. He was the one who had pulled him away from his life. It was all his fault. Damn, what kind of an older brother am I? Maybe it was even Dean's fault that Jessica was dead.

"Stop it, man. It's not your fault." Sam berated his older brother, knowing exactly what was going through Dean's head by the look on his face. "It would've happened anyway. No matter what path I could have taken, I would always inevitably end up right here. It's where I'm supposed to be." Dean knew it was true, but god how he wished it wasn't. He wished Sam could have the life he wanted, away from hunting. And it was all because of that stupid yellow-eyed demon. No…it was all because of Mary Winchester.

Dean couldn't help the boiling pit of rage and animosity that stewed inside of him towards his mother. How could she do this to them? How could she sell out her own child? How could she drive their father to insanity? Because people are selfish. She wanted out, just like Sam. The only difference was that Sam wasn't willing to sacrifice his family to get it, and she had. Like father like daughter.

"You're thinking about mom aren't you? I can tell from your expression and the way you look like you're going to snap the Impala's steering wheel in half." Sam tore him from his reverie.

"Yeah." Dean scoffed, easing his tight grip on the steering wheel and unclenching his jaw.

"Holding grudges is unhealthy for the mind." And even Sam couldn't help joining in with Dean's cynical, slightly hysterical laughter.

"You know we're going to be okay, right Sam?" Dean asked once they had calmed down. Sam smiled softly, looking back up at the blue sky.

"Yeah, I know."