Without thinking Sam crawled over to his brother and laid his head down on his already cooling chest, sobbing uncontrollably into his jacket. "D-dean, wake up…" he gasped between sobs, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Dean—please—you have to wake up! You—you have—I need you!" he sobbed, "I-I need you, you promised you would a-always be here when I needed you! Y-you promised, and you're not here! You're not—h-here—"

Sam Winchester was cold.

Very cold.

He woke, shivers wracking through his body as the relentless wind gushed through the broken window, cooling the air around him.

Rain pattered angrily against the ground outside, but Sam ignored it. He was dry. His blood had long since dried and caked against his skin, leaving gaping scabbed wounds and holes in his flesh that desperately needed stitched up.

Get your ass up and moving, Sammy! What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed?

"Maybe…" Sam whispered absentmindedly, responding to Dean's imaginary voice in his head like it was natural as his mind slowly cleared. In a way, it was natural. He and Dean had been together so long, he could usually predict what Dean was going to say or do. Right now, Sam knew that Dean would be pissed as hell, worried, and angry at him for not taking care of himself.

But Sam didn't care. Let him be pissed, what did it matter? He was dead.

Sam shifted slightly, feeling the cold resonating up from under his head but refusing to acknowledge it as he tried to keep his mind numb to his current situation. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel. He just wanted to find a bar and drink himself to oblivion. Not that that could even find one in this godforsaken world, or that it would ever really help if he did.

Sam Winchester was cold. His head was lying on his brother's chest, and it was as cold as ice, as hard as stone. Dean was dead. He had shot him.

Sam sighed, his red-rimmed eyes open and gazing upward through the darkness. "I can't believe I fell asleep." He muttered out loud, running a hand over his face. "I mean…" he laughed bitterly, "I fell asleep. Now…in the midst of all this. Course, it makes sense. You were always the one that could calm me down when I was upset… even…even when…you're d-dead—" he broke off, unable to continue.

Sam was quiet for a moment as he gained back his composure, and then he spoke again, his voice forcibly light and conversational, "So, I figure…I have absolutely no idea what to do. Leandra's dead…I killed her. I killed her, Dean. And I know she was evil, and I know that she—she killed—" he shook his head again, refusing to say what he was thinking. "Anyway, I didn't mean to kill her. I swear I didn't." he paused again before adding, "And now I'm thinking…if she had been controlling this world, shouldn't it have disappeared when she died?"

Silence.

"But it's still here." Sam continued, "It's still here, and I'm here, and you—you—you're here too. It doesn't make sense."

The silence was unbearable. Sam tried to ignore it, tried to imagine his brother's voice, tried to comfort himself by pretending. He shut his eyes. "Oh God…" he whispered. "Dean, I don't know what to do…"

Silence.

"I'm talking to you…like you're going to respond, and I can basically hear your answers in my head. How pathetic is that?" he sucked in a deep breath, "I feel like I'm suffocating. Like there's no air, and I'm drowning. I'm drowning, and I'm all alone. And I'm so sorry, Dean. I shot you. I shot you…for the second damn time." He laughed bitterly, "I totally suck as a brother…"

He paused, thinking, "But, I guess in a way it's good that you're not here…cause if you could see me now…torn up like this…defeating packs of mutant wolves and accidently killing demons…well…I'm pretty sure you'd have to take Dad up on his offer to put a bullet to my head."

Silence.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Silence.

"Am I supposed to just walk away? Am I supposed to just leave you here, find out how to get back to the real world?" Sam sighed, and opened his eyes again to stare blankly ahead. "I—I honestly don't know if I can."

Silence.

"Dean…you were—are— everything to me. You're my brother, my protector, my best friend, the only person that could have ever put Nair in my shampoo and lived to tell about it. You're the one that I could always count on to annoy me to no damn end and then somehow manage to make me laugh and forget that I was mad in the first place. You're…you're a jerk, you're a womanizer, you're completely afraid of your own feelings, and I…I love you. " Sam paused, tears streaming down his face, and then continued strongly, "So I'm sorry Dean, but I'm not just going to leave. I'm not just going to move on. I need you to be alive. I need you here, with me, to make stupid jokes and convince me that everything is going to be magically okay. And I know it's not, I know that our lives are a million miles from okay, but…I…I just…"

Silence.

"I just need you."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. He was in way over his head—he was never going to be able to fix this—Dean was dead and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say—he couldn't fix this—couldn't help—he had shot Dean—shot him in the head—and the blood—sticky, crimson, trickling down everywhere, soaking the carpet—all over him—all over everything—Dean—he couldn't be dead—so cold—he wasn't dead—wasn't dead—not dead, not dead—no no no no—

"NOO!" Sam screamed, the sound breaking through his throat and resounding throughout the room. "Damn it!" he sat up, his heart pounding in his chest, and kneeled beside his brother, staring down at his corpse in fury. "How could you do this to me?! How, Dean?! How could you leave me like this?!"

Silence.

A primal scream ripped through Sam's throat and he pounded his fist down on his brother's cold chest with all his strength. "This is all your fault! You let me shoot you! You could have stopped me, why the hell didn't you stop me?!" He pounded his fist on his brother's chest—again and again and again and again, his fists pounding down in unrestrained fury—

A blinding, golden burst of light suddenly erupted from Sam, filling the entire room. Sam stopped mid-swing, eyes wide with shock. He could feel power surging through him, searing light and heat that poured from every part of him all at once. Sam gasped and hurriedly jumped to his feet, terrified, as the intensity of the light burned his eyes. Unable to see anything, Sam squeezed his eyes shut.

Standing in the middle of the hotel room, Sam suddenly realized that his whole body was throbbing in pain from his injuries. He took a step backwards and his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. The impact with the ground jarred his already broken body, and he screamed in pain. He tried to open his eyes but the light was too bright, causing tears to stream down his cheeks—or maybe that was from the pain. He wasn't entirely sure.

What the hell was going on?

Where was Dean?

Dead. Dean was dead.

"Oh God…" he gasped, "Make it stop…just…oh God…it hurts…it…" the power continued to pour out of him as light, getting brighter and brighter and—

Darkness. The light went out.

Sam whimpered in agony as his whole body continued throbbing in pain, just without the light. He remained as he had fallen on the floor, motionless, for what seemed like hours.

After a long time the stabbing pain faded to a dull ache, and Sam opened his eyes. The hotel room slowly came into focus, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision.

He was lying in a pool of blood. His whole body was covered in blood just like before, but—

Sam froze and blinked harder, lifting his arm up to his face so that he could see it better. The gaping wound in his arm was gone—gone without a trace. He inspected the rest of his body and saw that all of the gashes, tears, and scratches that the pack of wolves had left were all gone, leaving him covered in blood but completely unmarked.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam muttered, trying to make sense of it. "I—I just—what did I do?" A small noise from the other side of the room made Sam's head snap up in alarm. His mouth dropped open in shock.

Dean was sitting up on the other side of the room, staring at him as though he didn't know what to think. His hair was messy and he was blinking rapidly as though to clear his vision. The bullet wound in the center of his forehead had vanished, and it looked as though he had just woken up from a nap on the floor.

A strangled noise escaped Sam's throat as he stared at his brother, a million thoughts running through his head. This wasn't Dean. It couldn't be Dean, he was dead…

Sam watched as the Dean's eyes finally focused on him and widened in horror. "Oh my God…" he gasped. "Sammy—what happened?!" Dean tried to stand up but his legs refused to hold his weight and he collapsed back to the ground.

Sam didn't move. "…D-dean?"

"Sammy—you're covered in blood—you—"

Sam just stared at him, unsure of what to think. He wanted Dean to be alive—but what if this was a trick?

Dean took Sam's silence to mean that he was hurt, and he hurriedly tried to stand again. Why did it feel as though he had been hit by a truck? His whole body was stiff and didn't want to cooperate.

Sam watched Dean struggle to stand. "Dean…"

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm coming, okay? I'll fix you up."

"I…I don't need fixed." Sam said, eyes fixed on his brother. "I'm not hurt anymore."

Dean finally managed to stand and made it a few steps toward his brother before his legs gave out again. "Damn it!" he yelled angrily. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Dean…what's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked shakily.

Dean looked up at his brother. "Why does that matter, Sam? You're—you're covered in blood, that's what's the matter." With that, Dean crawled the final few yards over to his brother, reaching out a hand to examine how badly he was hurt.

"Dean—" Sam protested as his brother began to search for injuries, "Look, I'm not hurt—I—damn it, Dean, would you just listen to me?" he snapped, snatching his arm away from his brother.

Dean blinked. "No, Sam, I won't just listen! You're lying in a pool of sticky blood, okay? We can talk later."

"You died, Dean."

Dean gave Sam a concerned look as he continued to search his brother for the source of the blood. "Calm down, Sam. Everything's fine, you just imagined it…where the hell is all this blood coming from?"

"Nowhere. I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"What's the last thing you remember, Dean?" Sam demanded again.

"I don't know…I…" suddenly he froze and looked up at Sam. "You pulling the trigger…"

"Yeah. And what happened after that?" Sam demanded.

"I…I don't know." Dean admitted.

"Yeah, because you died! I'm not crazy, Dean!" Sam protested.

"I didn't die."

"How do you know?"

"Sam, we don't have time for this! You're hurt!"

"Dean, for the last freakin' time I'm fine! My wounds are gone."

"Oh yeah? How are they gone? Come to think of it, how did you manage to get this hurt in the first place?"

"A pack of mutant wolves attacked me."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "A pack of mutant wolves? Is that so?"

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy! That's what happened!"

"Sam—"

"Just shut-up, okay?! Shut up! I—I don't—I don't know, okay? I don't know how to explain it. I don't know what happened, but now somehow I'm fine and you're fine and we're all just freakin' fine, alright?!"

"Sammy—"

"No! Don't Sammy me! Don't try to calm me down! I am way past being calmed, I am seriously freaked out right now! You've been dead for over an hour, Dean! Over an hour, and I'm already losing my mind! You died and I went all psycho and defeated all the wolves and accidently killed Leandra—that's right, I accidently killed a demon—and I had massive gashes in my arms and all over my body, but hey, somehow I was still alive because I'm just lucky like that. And then, oh, then there was this bright light and now I'm magically healed and you're suddenly alive! So yes, I'm freaking out, Dean! I don't even know how or what I did. I healed myself and brought you back from the dead—by myself—and I have no idea how I did it. That's a big deal, okay? Something's happening to me. Something I can't control…and I…I can't stop it." Sam finished and took in a deep breath, staring intently at his brother. "So, Dean…what words of wisdom could you possibly say that would help?"

Dean didn't say anything. He sat there for a moment, seemingly frozen, trying to digest everything that Sam had just told him. And then, without thinking, he reached out and pulled his brother into a hug.

A hug was the last thing Sam had expected, and it was the one thing he needed the most. He tensed for a moment in surprise and then relaxed against his brother, bringing his hands up to return the hug. "Dean—"

"It's okay, Sammy."

"But I—"

"It's okay. I'm here. It's all going to be okay."

Sam shook his head. "How can you be so sure? Everything's spiraling out of control."

Dean shrugged. "I'm the big brother…I know everything."

Sam laughed softly. "As if…"

"Hey!" Dean said, "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't count as an elder, Dean."

"Damn right…I'm a chick magnet…way cooler than an elder."

Sam smiled faintly and then reluctantly released his brother from the hug. "Thanks."

"No problem Sammy…" Dean said, looking him over once more. "…you sure you're not hurt?"

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yes. I've told you that about a hundred times already…"

"Yeah, well…just checking. You are completely covered in blood you know." Dean said. He looked around, "So…we're still stuck here. I thought you said the evil witch was dead?"

"She is." Sam said grimly. "I'm not sure why we're still here."

"Guess we'll have to figure out a way to get back to reality then…somehow."

"Guess so."

Dean nodded, went to stand, and then winced and decided against it. "Yeah…uh…I don't see any reason to hurry." He said, lying down on the carpet.

Sam nodded and lied next to his brother so that their shoulders were touching slightly, still shaken over his death. "We've earned a little break."

Dean shook his head in agreement and then took in a deep breath, trying not to panic at everything his brother had just told him. This was a big deal…if what Sam said was true he had a lot more abilities than they had thought—

"And Dean?" Sam said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah Sam?"

"Thanks for not being dead anymore."

Dean smiled slightly. "Anytime, Sammy…anytime."

Please Review!

By the way, Suggestions are welcome for what the boys should do next. Let me know what you want!