I did end up finding some inspiration...lucky me!? Haha I'll let you decide I guess. Here's Dean's POV of THAT scene.

We live in shadows, my brother and I. Ever since the night our mother was taken from us, we have searched the darkness for the evil that killed her, the evil that has killed countless others. I got used to the blackness of it after a while. My eyes adjusted, my steps became silent. The absence of light became a gift, an advantage over the enemy. Sometimes I got so caught up in it that I forgot to pick my head up every once in a while. And suddenly the sun would find me again and I'd be blinded by it, caught off guard in remembering that there was another side to the shadows I spent my days haunting, had to be light in order to cast those very shapes against our walls.

Sam always remembered to paint those walls. He'd smear them with the soft hues of innocence, the bright green of the forest that rested behind his pupils, unending and full of the life I sometimes lost track of. He always pulled me back before I plunged completely into the nothingness; always before it was too late.

The night was my ally and my worst enemy, and I remember thinking that as long as I looked for my little brother, I would understand the distinction, strike the right balance. I wouldn't get lost in it. I'd have a way out of the blackness when I needed it, when things just got a little too heavy.

But this time he wasn't there. Not really anyway. I guess I never thought about the fact that maybe Sammy could get lost too. That maybe he would forget to push back against all the awful things that surrounded us, would stop trying to save me when I leaned just a little too far over the edge.

And he's here now, finally here, but I think it's too late. He's here now but the damage is done, the blood already sliding beneath my fingers and dripping down the front of my shirt, right next to my heart. It pumps furiously, stubborn to the very end. He's here, leaning over me, pressing a hand against my chest and it's not how I wanted it. I didn't want him to have to see this, to see the blackness that has bled its way from the edges of our lives into every crevice of who I was. It crept up on me, pulled me into its embrace and I can't leave it behind now, but I don't want Sam to be tainted by it too. He deserves so much better. I tell him to leave and I'm so glad he doesn't, so glad he instead pulls me into him, urges me forward. I know I'm losing, there's no way I'm lasting much longer, but maybe it's okay.

Because I think I found the light again. I wonder how I ever missed something so bright. It's shining back at me, a beacon that originates from the flecks of my little brother's eyes.

And finally, I can close mine.

Thank you for all of your lovely feedback, it really does inspire me to keep writing. Though as I said before, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to post in the next month or so, but hopefully I'll get back into it in late June.