Work Text:
-z-
That night, for the first time in such a long fucking time, you dream about hell.
And, from the sounds coming from the bed next to you, so is Sam.
You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, hearing the echo of Alistair’s whispers.
Dean.
You jump at the voice but there’s nothing – there’s no one. Just Sammy tossing and turning on his bed.
And, just as you pretended not to notice the blood he wiped away from his mouth in the car, you also pretend not to see the blood on Sam’s pillow.
Because you trust Sam, you really do. And you need to give him something – you need to give him this. And if he dies at the end of it – than you will do just as you've always done and tear everything apart until you get him back.
-z-
End.