a/n: Thank you everyone who reads, reviews, follows, favorites, and/or leaves a request for this collection of stories. A special thank you to LilyBolt, Guest, zekeschance, mckydstarlight, rivermoon 1487 for the review and the request (still working on your other one), and SpKs 15 for all your recent reviews.

SPOILER ALERT for season 11 "Red Meat." This is just an idea that came to me. A look into Sam's head as he lay on the floor of the cabin.

Also WARNING on mention of suicide to an extent.

Wish You Were Here

"Bout time you woke up. Beer's getting warm."

Sam pushed himself up into sitting position and took in his surroundings with a scowl in place.

The sky was a beautiful blue spotted with white fluffy clouds making the ocean look teal in comparison. The waves moved in and out hypnotically, crawling up the sand before falling back again. All around the towel he found himself laying on, was dull grey gold sand. At arms length sat an open untouched bottle of beer. Sam looked from one end of his location to the other, then back behind him and in front of him again, the wind whipping his hair as he moved. He brought his gaze over to his brother who was sitting next to him with his own stare hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The look reminded Sam of the time he had tried to get his just cured brother to take some much needed PTO lakeside. Somewhere in the distance, there was a faint call of a foghorn.

"I'm dreaming." It hadn't been a question he supplied to the open space, mainly directed at his brother. Dean simply knocked back the El Sol he had been nursing.

"Of course you're dreaming. Not like we've ever actually been to a beach. Ever. But that don't mean you can't enjoy it while it lasts."Dean's head turned towards his sibling with a smirk on his face. "Sand between your toes Sammy." It took him a couple of seconds, but slowly the younger Winchester stretched one long leg out of the blanket's zone, and rested it cautiously in the sand. "There's no such thing as sand sharks, you're good," the elder brother teases affectionately.

At first Sam wanted to counter that remark with a "no shit." But before he does, a memory pops into his head.

Sam and Dean had seen many places and attractions in their lives on the road. The largest ball of yarn being one that he remembers most and frequently shares with ours. But among the ones they hadn't, was a beach. John never had time to take the boys and Bobby, living in nowhere South Dakota, never had the chance to take them either. Sam had expressed many times in the past wanting to go even for a minute just to see what it felt like. Dean knew that the opportunity they would get for that would likely be when they were adults themselves, if they were lucky. It was a place he had always wanted to take his little brother being that he seemed to have such a desire to go. Of course that list was long and consisted of many things including Disneyland, which he had a gut feeling would never happen during the years Sam had any interest. Whenever little Sammy would see a beach out his window he would eagerly shout, causing John to almost run the Impala off the road on more than one occasion and only agitate him further.

"Please Dad please? Just for a minute? I want to know what the beach feels like," his youngest would beg. When John shut him down, it was Dean to the, somewhat, rescue. As he peered in the back at a now deflated little brother, he called back, "it's better that way you know. I hear there's sand sharks that hide out deep under the sand at beaches."

"Sand sharks?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Yep. They like to go for your toes when you dig them in the sand. Or your whole body if you ever bury yourself in it. It's why Dad doesn't want us going, he doesn't want us getting eaten."

"Is it true?" The young boy asked staring at his father with frightened hazel eyes. John glanced at Dean who only stared back at him.

"Uh huh," he answered.

Of course years went by and although Sam grew out of believing in "sand sharks," he still was a bit cautious to the idea that some monster of a sort may be a sand dweller. Now that they were full grown, or as Dean called Sam, overgrown, he had wanted desperately to get away for awhile. Just the brothers on a beach, like Sam had always wanted.

Both boys had of course felt sand before, but something about the beach was just...different. It was soft as Sam wiggled his toes in and out, watching it collect and coat his feet and roll off leaving them freckled with multi-colored grains. He smiled down at them before his features morphed into uncertainty.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"Bodega Bay, California." When Sam's expression didn't change, Dean went on. "What's with the dropped ice cream cone look?"

"Of all the beaches, why this one?" To that the eldest answered first with a shrug.

"Beats me. I would have gone with the Caribbean myself. I hear they're brighter and...cleaner," Dean commented with a look of disgusts twisting his features. "There's all kind of shit in this sand. Feathers, wrappers, beer caps, glass, I even found a used condom earlier. You know what they say, one man's trash is another man's loss of appetite."

Sam had tuned out his brother while he had been listing the "treasures" of the beach. It had been so calming with all the sounds a harmonious mix of what might be found on a CD of relaxing whit noise, with the exception of his sibling. The younger man looked over at Dean once again. "Now what?" He asked taking another swig from his beer bottle.

"I don't know. I mean I've wanted to go to a beach since we were kids but I just-I feel...wrong." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. "I mean we've been wanting this for such a long time. A chance to kick back and relax like the average Joe, but something isn't right. Like you for starters."

"Excuse me?" Dean challenged.

"You aren't Dean. You're dream Dean. You aren't real. Just like, I'm not really at a beach in California. I'm not at any beach or in California. And I'm not just kicking back and relaxing, I'm-I think I'm dying, Dean."

"Don't be dramatic Sam."

"No, it's true. Last thing I remember was...we were on a hunt. Some people had gone missing and we got a tip that they may be in a cabin and...I-" Sam paused and looked around as if something would confirm his theory.

"You what?" Dean pressed.

"I-I think, something happened. Dean, I think-I think something bad happened to me."

The waves seemed rougher now as they crashed more forcefully against the sand and the sky grew heavier with clouds, casting shadows.

"Relax Sammy, we both know I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you," Dean reassured his brother. The younger man brought his eyes up to look at his sibling.

"Shit happens. I mean whatever this is...It's not your fault."

"What do you think happened?"

Sam slowly shook his head as he strained to remember.

I don't know. It's kind of a blur. I just remember us hunting and then...pain. Almost like when I was stabbed, but different at the same time. Then it was like I couldn't get air in or something was preventing me from breathing." Sam's eyes softened as they searched the elder Winchester for some kind of confirmation that what he said didn't sound impossible, much like he use to when they were kids.

Dean frowned. "I need to wake up."

"And leave all this?"

"I'm dying. And if I'm dying, you could be next," Sam informed the man next to him.

"Or, if you are dying..." he said with a carefree shrug, "you could stay here with me and let calgon take you away."

The younger man shook his head and scoffed as he rose to his feet and peered down at Dean.

"Now I really know you aren't my brother. Dean would never say that to me. He'd want me to keep fighting, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

"You really think you're strong enough to wake up from near death?" The man countered as he removed his sunglasses from his face.

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell gonna try," Sam responded.

"How?"

"Easy, I'm going to take a page out your book. Well not your book, the real Dean's book."

"Which is?"

The hunter brought his eyes so that they were focused straight ahead of him.

"Old wives tale. I'm going to kill myself."

"Isn't that a bit redundant? How do you know it's going to work?"

Sam shrugged, wiggled his fingers, and let out a deep breath.

"Guess I'm gonna find out."

Dean sat silent, his stare fixed on the man towering over him. Without another glance or word to him, Sam sprinted towards the ocean until his body collide with the water. He pushed himself out further and further until he no longer could reach the bottom with his feet, and then threw his body under the water, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened his mouth. Salty water began to fill his lungs and he fought back the urge to re-submerge. Time seemed to slow down if not stop altogether.

The next time Sam opened up his eyes, he found himself laying bloody on the floor gasping for air. A sharp pain brought his attention to the still bleeding hole in his side. His crimson colored hands pressed to the injury applying as much pressure as Sam could muster as he let out a groan. Waking up from near death was half the battle, finding his brother and not passing out or dying in the process was the next half.

A/n: Guest: Thank you so much for your review from "Just a Flesh Wound." That's exactly what I was going for, so I'm so pleased that you mentioned it. John is very lucky he didn't lose his son. Your welcome and thank you for reading everything! I'm so glad you like it all.