A/N: Yet another short fiction about the last few episodes of the show. I just had to get it out of my system and I know some of you wanted me to add some chapters to my other story, 'Changed for Good', but the truth is the more I think about it, the more I realize that there's just no way to fix things like nothing has happened. So, instead, here's another story related to the pain in Dean's eyes that has been hurting us all and again, it's wishful thinking on my part.

This is, at most, a three chapter story and, no need to say, Dean-centric.

Also if you haven't watched the latest episodes and wanna stay spoiler-free, then you should turn around and forget about this story.

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I hope you enjoy reading this and let me know what you think.

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. He Ain't Heavy, Even Though We Are Not Brothers Anymore .

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"SAAAAAM." Dean's terrified shout echoed in the field as Sam landed heavily on his left side and moments later lost consciousness.

The yell didn't keep Sam from being thrown away by the monster, but at least it caught the monster's attention as it turned away from Sam and walked towards Dean again.

Panting heavily, Dean pushed his sore body up and pulled himself towards the heavy sword which had previously landed a few feet away. Just as his fingers touched its hilt and curled around it, he was once again airborne and before he knew it, he hit another tree before ending up on the ground.

The monster roared angrily and walked heavily towards him, looking so determined like he was going to make sure this was Dean's last minute on the earth.

Taking as deep a breath as he could, Dean dodged from under the monster's foot and waved the sword and brought it down on the hideous monster's arm, cutting it off instantly. The roar that left the thing's lips, literally, shook Dean with its force and once again Dean lost his balance and fell on his back. Turning his head towards where Sam had fallen earlier, he risked a glance to check on the younger hunter before looking back at his adversary.

The monster seemed to be retreating and staggering towards the woods, but Dean being the stubborn, hard-headed man he was, wasn't about to let the thing find a way to recuperate. Even with one arm, it probably could bring down a whole town if they weren't ready to deal with it and since they'd irritated that thing beyond any words, it could kill some innocent people on the way back to its lair.

So, once again ignoring his own injuries and the agony that he was feeling, Dean yelled after the beast.

"Hey. You fugly Son of a Bitch. Where do you think you're going?"

He pushed himself up and, strangely enough, felt a newfound strength in his body as he leaped at the monster. In a smooth motion, he waved the sword again and taking the monster by surprise, he beheaded it in one move.

Feeling that the mission was finally fulfilled, Dean staggered back and lost his balance and the last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness, was the sun which was coming out from behind the clouds.

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Usually, in the stories and movies, when the heroes lose consciousness, they wake up in the hospital, disoriented but pain-free. Dean, though, could proudly announce that he'd never, ever followed the prototype in his life and this time wasn't an exception.

When he woke up next, he was still in the exact same position that he'd been before losing consciousness; the only difference was that the sun was nowhere to be found and rain was pouring down on him.

His whole body was sore and when he tried to list his injuries, his brain did nothing to help him. Finally giving up on that task, he closed his eyes one more time only for them to snap open when he remembered that Sam had been there with him.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins and he found himself standing and running towards Sam in a matter of seconds.

Once by Sam's side, he first checked for a pulse and since it was strong and steady, he checked for other injuries. The only visible thing was the open fracture of his left leg which would've been disturbing if he hadn't dealt with many worse things in the past.

Dean was concerned since the younger man hadn't woken up yet and started to call his name. "Sam? Come on, man. Open your eyes."

He checked his watch and realized that it couldn't have been that long past the time that he'd killed the monster, -which thankfully was still very much dead-. So, Sam being still out cold wasn't necessarily alarming.

Calling Sam's name again, he softly tapped his face.

There was still no answer from Sam and that started to worry Dean beyond everything. Long time or not, not showing any sort of response wasn't a good sign. Calculating their position and chances, he knew that with no cell reception, he had to leave to get them some help, but he couldn't leave Sam there. That was leaving him with only one other option and that was to carry Sam to the Impala.

Taking a deep breath, he winced when his ribs protested. He knew that he probably had a couple of cracked ribs, and one was broken for sure. His head was bleeding sluggishly and both his arms were extremely sore. But at least he was awake and moving, so carrying Sam didn't seem like a problem to him.

Summoning up all his strength and relying on the huge amount of adrenaline in his veins, he slouched down to move Sam and hauled him up and over his shoulder.

Standing up proved to be another matter altogether and when he was finally upright, the whole world started to spin on its axis. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, Dean concentrated on putting one foot in front of another, and as it was expected from someone like Dean Winchester, he was actually thankful for the pain that was radiating from his mid-section. The pain kept him grounded and distracted him from the dizziness and nausea that would, otherwise, bring him to his knees.

He knew perfectly well that carrying Sam in that way would probably be disastrous to his own condition, but no matter what Sam thought of him, he wouldn't leave Sam there, not even for a few hours that it'd take him to go and get help.

He didn't care what Sam said, he'd do it because that was the right thing to do; because he'd done so his whole life and if Sam wanted to accuse him of being selfish; well, then so be it.

He had given up on correcting his brother and he was tired of proving himself. His whole life he'd tried to prove himself to different people; first it was to his mother; when his Dad wasn't around and he didn't want to see his mother sad, he'd act like a grown up as much as he could to make her smile again and he'd always wanted to prove to her that he was there for her and that she wasn't alone. Then his mother was gone and he had to prove himself to his father for a totally different reason and that was something that never ended. Even after his death, John Winchester had that power over him.

And then there was Sam.

And in his thirties, he was finally done with proving himself. He didn't give a rat's ass what Sam or everybody else thought anymore and it kinda surprised him. He'd been hurt by Sam's words, but he expected for them to cut deeper; he expected to feel hurt longer; but the truth was that he was suddenly indifferent to the whole situation and something told him that the Mark of Cain on his arm had something to do with those little facts.

So, he shrugged nonchalantly and thought with himself that if the whole world thought that what he'd done for Sam and everyone else had been merely for selfish reasons, then he couldn't do anything about it. He'd keep doing what he thought was right. He'd save Sam at any cost to his own health and safety and he'd do anything to save the world and the innocents. Because that was the right thing to do and he simply cared too much.

Those thoughts kept him on his feet and pushed him towards his car and he was so focused on them that he didn't even notice when Sam started to stir or slightly move on his shoulders.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was hoarse and he sounded far away, even to his own ears. He was confused as to why he was moving and why his leg was hurting like crazy.

Moving slightly, he blinked his eyes and tried to remember what had happened.

Everything was blurry in his mind; everything except one thing which was clear as day and that was the fact that no one but Dean could be carrying him at that moment. And that wasn't because he knew what Dean was wearing, because in his current position, it was a little bit hard to recognize the clothes on whoever that was carrying him. No, it was more the gentleness of his helper. The way the man had his arms around him shouted caring and concern and he knew no one in the world who'd care about him the way Dean did and that knowledge warmed him once again.

"Dean? Hey." he tried louder and that finally caught Dean's attention.

The older man paused momentarily before resuming his pace. "Hey, you with me?"

Man, Dean sounded awful. And Sam was pretty sure he would've heard Dean calling him a princess or sleepy-head or a bunch of other names, had it been a while back. A while back, before he'd cut the older man's heart with his sharp words. The pain was keeping Sam's mind in a fair place and he sighed inwardly when he remembered his own words.

"I guess so. What's going on? Put me down." he replied.

"Your left leg is broken. You need hospital and you can't walk on that leg." Dean replied matter of factly, his voice laced with pain and exhaustion.

"I can try. You sound awful. You can't be doing much better." Sam tried to reason.

"I can walk and we're almost there. Just hang on a bit longer. I can see the car."

He could see the car? That meant Dean had been carrying him for at least a couple of hours now, if not longer with how slow Dean was progressing.

"Dean." Sam called, sounding much stronger. "You should've woken me up. Why did you carry me?"

"Your leg is broken." Dean repeated his earlier statement and it almost sounded like Dean's head wasn't even there; like he was on autopilot and that kinda worried Sam.

"I'm too heavy for you to carry me in this condition. You must be hurt." Sam really would've pushed himself down if he didn't think it'd do more harm than good.

Dean was silent for a long time and when he finally reached the car and lowered Sam to the ground, he sounded so far away and desolated that it scared Sam.

"He ain't heavy."

"What?" Sam frowned and leaned against Dean as he helped him in the passenger seat.

"You ain't heavy, you're-" Dean left his sentence unfinished and then quietly added, "Even though-" and then the rest of his sentence faded away as he closed the door to Sam's side and Sam just saw his lips move. But he didn't need to hear those words to know what Dean was saying and the impact of those words sent a cold shiver down his spine and shook him to the core.

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... TBC ...

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A/N: I'd love to know what you think.

All mistakes are mine.

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