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Sam stared up at the ceiling.
He was so tired and it seemed as if the day just wouldn’t end.
It was almost as if the sun was taunting him by refusing to leave the sky.
He just wanted the nighttime to take over.
He just wanted everything to stop.
Each morning that the sun rose was just another reminder that Sam was worthless, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore.
The only thing he had to look forward to was nightfall, when the moon rises and he doesn’t have to pretend to be okay.
Day, after day, after day.
The days fade into a blur as he wakes up to another one, a part of him wishing he hadn’t.
The older Winchester was getting worried.
Sam didn’t usually act like this, but with everything going on, he couldn’t blame him.
As much as he hated it, Sam had every right to feel the way that he did.
Seeing people die as often as they did was draining; there were weeks when Dean sure as hell didn’t wanna deal with it all.
As the day started to fade once again, Sam’s mind started sinking into an ocean of guilt and despair; memories swimming and surrounding him, haunting him and refusing to leave him alone.
He tried not to cry, he truly did.
He was falling apart at the seams.
He was shaking and holding back tears, thinking of his mom, his dad, Jessica, Bobby-
He’d let so many people down; he couldn’t save them.
It wasn’t fair.
-
When Dean knocked on his little brother's door, he didn’t expect much of a response; but he was still worried out of his mind and had to check on him.
“Sammy? You alive in there?”
The younger hunter would’ve responded, but he knew if he did, his voice would come out shaky and broken.
He just wanted everything to be okay.
Why couldn’t everything just be okay?
He heard his door creak open and he couldn’t help but tense up, not wanting Dean to see him so weak and broken.
“Sammy, I know you’re awake.”
He pulled up the small desk chair and set it next to Sam’s bed, sitting down so he was more level with his brother.
The room was dim, matching the somber mood.
“Sammy, what’s going on with you, man? You’ve been hiding in your room for days now.”
Sam clenched his jaw, his back was turned to Dean and he prayed that the elder couldn’t see his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs.
“You know I’m not one for feelings and shit but you’re starting to worry me, Sammy.”
And with the admission of worry, the dam broke.
A quiet sob escaped from his throat as his body shook, the built-up tension finally forced to leave his body.
Dean got up and sat on the bed, pulling Sam towards him in a tight embrace.
“Easy, Sam… you’re okay.” He said in a soothing voice, stroking the messy brown hair while the younger cried into his shoulder.
He rocked them both like they were young again; it always seemed to calm Sam down.
“I’m s-so tired, Dean…” Sam cried.
“I-I just- I w-want it to stop! I want it all to s-stop…” his hands clutched the fabric of his brother's clothes as he let out a week’s worth of bottled-up feelings.
The confession made Dean’s heart sink and he tried to remain calm, knowing he needed to be the rock for his little brother.
“Hey, hey, hey.. don’t you dare talk like that!”
He pulled back to look at his brother’s weeping face; his sad hazel eyes somewhat resembling lakes shimmering under the moon.
“Listen, Sam; I know it can get.. so damn hard.” The elder took the time to find the right words.
“But you can not give up, Sam. The world needs you- I need you.”
He stroked Sam’s cheeks with his thumbs, wiping the tears from his weary hazel eyes.
The older brother pulled him in tighter than before, taking Sam slightly by surprise.
“You are so damn strong Sammy. You’ve been to hell and back and you still have the kindness and selflessness to keep doing what we do.”
Dean continued-
“You have the kindest heart, the bravest soul, and quite frankly, the best hair I’ve ever seen.”
He added lightheartedly, getting a weak chuckle in between the broken sobs.
Dean didn’t typically say this out loud, but Sam desperately needed to hear it.
“I love you so much, Sammy. You’re the best pain in the ass little brother I could ever ask for. And I swear to God, it is going to get better; I’ve got your back, little brother.”
The younger sniffled, but smiled.
The tears slowed down and eventually, Sam was reduced to sniffles and hiccups as Dean rubbed his back.
“Thank you, Dean. I r-really don’t d-deserve you.” He shuttered through the remaining gasps and tears, clutching his brother tighter.
Dean pressed a soft kiss to his kid's head
“Just breathe, Sammy… breathe...”