TITLE: I Tried…Because this is Home

AUTHOR: Obi the Kid

RATING: PG

SUMMARY: Sam POV. Sequel to my fic "After the Fall". Takes place after the events of "Sacrifice." On their way home, Sam battles for his life.

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Sam and Dean Winchester and the world of Supernatural do not belong to me, nor do I make any profit from this story. Any typos/errors are all mine!

I tried. Desperation etched in breath. But there was no breath left.

I was falling.

The car stopped. I was on the ground. Dean curled over me. Screaming at me. To live. To breathe. To not leave him alone in this crap-hole of a world.

A mouth pressed to mine to push air back into my lungs.

I felt sleepy. Different than normal. A delayed pulse thumped in my throat. Slowing. Creeping toward a final stop.

Familiar hands slapped at my face. Shoved at my chest.

More air was pushed inward.

Splashes of warm now on my face. Tears. Those of my big brother. The one I'd let down so many times. And now…once more.

I was dying. Again. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't bring me back.

"Not now, Sammy, please, not now!"

I heard, but could offer no response.

…Sliding into black now.

Dean. I'm sorry.

He shook me, begging for a response.

"Damn it, Sam, breathe! I said breathe, you bastard!"

There was a pause. And then another forced breath in.

"You're not dying on me! Not again! Not after all the crap we've been through these last months."

Pause. Forced breath in.

"You don't give up now! You don't give up! You hear me? Not after all this!"

Pause. Forced breath in.

"Sam! SAM!"

Pause. Forced breath in.

"Damn it, Sam, fight!"

Pause. Forced breath in.

"Fight, Sam! Come on!"

Pause. Forced breath in.

"Sammy. You fight this. That's an order, little brother. Fight it damn it!"

Pause. Forced breath in.

Dean's voice the…it changed.. Fierce and frantic to quiet and desperate.

"Sam, please. For me, okay? Do this one thing for me, Sammy. Just this one thing. I'll breathe for you once more and then you take over. You can do this, Sam. Breathe for me, okay?"

Pause. Forced breath in…

I tried.

For Dean.

I tried one last time to find breath. To push the blackness away.

Pause. Forced breath in…

…I tried…for my brother.

And then…black lightened to gray.

I coughed once. And then again. And again. Lying on my side now. My eyes slit open. There was blood trailing down my face. Blood. On my brother's face.

I reached a trembling hand to Dean. He took it and squeezed hard.

"No, Sam. I'm not hurt. It's not my blood. You started hacking on that last breath I gave you. Got me good."

My blood. On his face. My breath.

I was upright now. Supported by the Impala. Hurting. Chest. Throat. Head. Everywhere. Someone in front of me. Dean. Kneeling. Hands cupping my face. His rough hands were cold. My face was hot. Fever. Again. Eyes burned. Wet.

Tears?

I was crying.

Then I was pulled forward and Dean's arms went around me.

"S'okay, Sammy. I'm here, little brother. We'll get you moving towards home again real soon."

Home. The bunker? No. That was our new place. Our new home. Home was the Impala. Home was my brother.

I'd almost left him. Again.

I'd almost let him down. Again.

But I didn't. And I wouldn't. Not again. Not ever.

Cars went by. None stopped, but I wanted to go.

"D'n?"

My voice. Muffled. Broken. Dean let me go and leaned me to the car.

"I know. We'll go soon."

I tried to stand. He held me still.

"Dean."

"Stop, Sam. A few minutes."

"M'okay to go."

Beside me now. Against me. I knew then. He wasn't okay yet. I'd died. Almost. Again.

Right hand patted his arm. My finger curled into the fabric of the familiar jacket.

"No, you're not okay, man. Not even close. And I'm not okay. In fact we may be the two most screwed up bastards on the whole friggin' planet. Hell, maybe we should write a book, hey, Sammy? A series even, about how we're the poster boys for the royally screwed? Or I guess Chuck beat us to that, huh? And that cover art, remember that? Made us look like Adonis and Fabio. You get to be Fabio by the way. I'll take the Greek God status."

My brother. Dealing with his fear of loss by being a smart ass. I felt my face smile some at the memory. At his attempt for normal.

Dean pushed against me. To make sure I knew he was joking. I heard the wary smile in his voice. It felt good. To joke with him again. To be brothers again.

"Sam?" The shoulder butted me gently.

"Huh?"

"No more dyin', okay? No more one man sacrifices. Once we get you better, from here on out, we go out together or not at all, got it?"

My face tried for another small smile. Me and Dean. Together.

"Got it."

And I will get better. I know it now. Dean will make sure. He'll take care of me. He always does. Better than I can take care of myself. Because he's my brother. And he's all I have. All I can ever count on. I know that too. Now I do.

I keep breathing. The worst pain returns. Still on the side of the road. Against the Impala. Arm around my shoulders. Dean hugs me again. He's hugged me a lot lately.

I tried to grab his arms. To return the feeling. My hands though, shaking so badly now. Again. I tried again. So I could let him know how much I needed him. His approval. His comfort. For him to be proud of me. But I could only sit in his arms. Here. On the side of the road. In pain. In fear. Still feeling the tears burning at my face.

But, it's okay. Because…this is home. The car. My brother. Always thought I needed more. Wanted more. Maybe I still do. I don't know. Right now, I need my brother. And he won't leave me. He won't let me hurt alone.

And if this kills me, he won't let me die…not alone.

Because this is home. No matter the past. The future. The uncertainty. The insecurity. I know now…this is home.

Home is the Impala.

Home is my big brother.

Home is Dean.

It always has been.

And I'm home now.

The end.