A/N: Written for day 19 of Whumptober 2019.

On top of being a whump fic this is also just generally a dark fic. And it takes place during season 5.

Prompt: asphyxiation.

WARNINGS: This fic contains graphic depictions of violence, a rape mention, a necrophilia mention, and hanging.

"This how you expected ghost hunting to be?" Dean asked, old noose around his neck, feet still thankfully on the ground. The rope was attached to a great, old, oak tree. Its dead leaves lay littered about the muddied, frosted ground. The full moon shone over the scene.

Sam shuffled forward, the rope was pulled by an invisible force, lifting Dean up onto his toes, choking him. Huffing out panicked breaths, he stepped back. The rope slackened, and Dean was gasping in air.

They'd been led there by the ghost of the name Amanda Varnes, and they were at a loss. They'd salted and burned her bones, talked with her fellow classmates, her only living family member, gotten rid of a remaining lock of hair, even a fingernail clipping that a creepy stalker had kept, and now there was nothing left, but she was still there.

Sam had done his research on it, had called Bobby, and sometimes ghosts hung on out of sheer force of will.

Amanda Varnes' business wasn't complete. Her murderers weren't dead, and she'd seen Sam and Dean protecting them.

Sam hadn't liked protecting them, would rather lay her soul to rest, but he'd chosen to fight for humanity, so it was the job.

And now he and Dean had to pay the price. One of them had to die.

"Amanda, just-just let him go!" Sam pleaded.

"Yeah, this isn't the kind of choking I'm into, bitch!" Dean shouted.

"Dean, not helping," Sam told him under his breath.

Dean gave him a panicked smile, and Amanda flickered into being. She was still in the tank top and shorts she'd been murdered in, though they were smeared with dirt and blood, as was her skin. There were bruises all over her, her hair mussed, and her neck was nearly black with the bruises of the rope she'd been hanged from. The boys at school had done this to her because she hadn't wanted to have sex with them. There'd been reports of her body having been raped afterwards. It was all too horrible for Sam to think about.

"I know there's no way to make up for what they did," Sam told her as she approached him, eyes glassy. Her pale, dead skin seemed to waver, flicker, as if she wasn't fully in touch with the mortal plane. When she was in view again, her head was tilted at a horrible angle, her neck broken. Sam had a hand out, trying to hold her back. "I know that saying sorry won't fix it, and I know that you hate them, that they're monsters, but you need to stop. Killing them… Killing them won't make you feel better, okay? I've been there. The seeking revenge? It just leaves you feeling empty after, and then there's no place to go. I want you to have a place to go."

Her head tilted the other way now, bone scraping, snapping, popping out of the skin of her neck. It turned Sam's stomach. He fell back, tripping over a boulder. The noose tightened around Dean's neck, the rope being pulled, Dean lifting off the ground. He clawed at the rope, desperately mouthing Sam's name.

"N-n— Please don't! You're better than this, better than them!" Sam got out quickly, backing away.

God, if only he had salt, iron. But she'd taken them unprepared.

Dean was choking, gasping, feet kicking in the air. Tears built up in Sam's eyes, chest constricting at the thought of losing his brother again.

"Stop! Just stop! It's not gonna make you feel better! Nothing is gonna make you feel better!"

Amanda came forward, and she leaned down, grabbing Sam by his chin, holding him down, and he screamed as her nails dug into him. She had been petite as a human, just at five feet, but her strength as a ghost held him in place.

The sound of Dean's struggles were growing weaker.

"Take me," he urged. "Take me and not him."

She tilted her head, examining him, and for a second he feared it was going to fall off.

"Why?" she questioned, voice soft, airy, sending chills down his spine.

"'Cause I protected those men, right?" he said, condemning himself, trying to think of the worst possible side of this. He'd hated doing it, wanted them to die, but knew he couldn't just go around killing every human who he saw fit because then who would he be? Hunters had rules, and they were there for a reason. But god, even just breathing the same air as them. Was Sam like them? He didn't want to be. But with Lucifer after his soul, his body… Maybe he was meant to be. "And I tried to save some of the ones you killed. But I couldn't, and then I got mad, and I came looking for you. And you know what I wanted to do to you? I wanted you to burn." She stepped back, some sign of emotion finally showing in her eyes. Sam lifted his head up, baring his teeth, hoping he looked aggressive. "That's right, I wanted you gone. And I'm a man, aren't I? I'm just like them." Those last words felt like poison, but they had to be spoken, for Dean's sake. She hissed, backing away. "But Dean? Dean's good. I roped him into this. He just wanted to be nice to you. So take me instead."

The rope dropped, Dean collapsing to the ground, nearly falling on his face, but he managed to hold himself up. Mud now covered his clothes. He was coughing, even with the loosened noose, lungs trying to get air in.

Amanda was walking over to him, and Sam got off the ground doing the same thing. The noose was pulled from Dean's neck by Amanda shifting power through the veil. Once Sam was under the tree it was in his hand. He stared at her, and then looked at Dean who had rolled onto his side, head tilted towards Sam.

"Don't," he gasped out, voice weak. Red was around his neck.

Sam tilted his head, closing his eyes, huffed out a breath through his nose. He couldn't look at Dean.

"I have to."

He put the noose around his neck. The rope scratched him, tore a bit at already bloodied skin, and fit too snugly around his neck, pressing against his adam's apple, strangling even as he stood.

"No, no! Sammy, don't! Sammy!"

Sam kept his eyes closed. A tear dripped from his cheek into the wet grass.

Shuddering, stomach quivering, one hand on the noose, and another on the rope, still hanging onto hope that he didn't have to do this, Sam forced himself to give in. This would save Dean.

Sam struggled as the rope started to lift, the ground disappearing beneath his feet, rope tight against his neck.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

He heard Dean's voice, saw movement, but couldn't make out what was happening. He was just trying to breathe, arms pulling at the rope, struggling, legs kicking. If he could lift his body up, hang from the rope upside down, maybe…

God, no, he wasn't strong enough.

His neck was taking all of his body weight. It was crushing him, blood getting trapped in his arteries. He did his best to bulge out his neck muscles, and fuck, it hurt. The rope was cutting into him, burning, and he'd never been so sore in his life. He couldn't see, black spots in his vision. Lungs pounding, head pounding, eyes feeling like they were getting squeezed out of his head. His mouth was forced open, tongue coming out.

His feet kept twitching, and there was darkness around him.

Black started to take him, crushing pressure building in his neck, deeper and deeper, and the base of his skull was screaming, raging agony pulsing through him.

Sam felt swollen, crushed, and breathless all at once, and it went on, second by second, growing worse and worse, and god, he just wanted help.

He'd forgotten all about why he was doing this.

Heat made itself known to him near his head, the rope snapped, and he fell to the ground. His body couldn't get in air even with being free, on the cold ground, but hands were pulling the noose off. Blackness took him.

Sam awoke minutes later, chest aching, Dean crying with his head over his diaphragm. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

"Don't ever do that again!" Dean yelled, lifting his head up. "Don't you dare!"

I did it for you, Sam wanted to explain.

Tears blurred his vision. God, he wanted to talk, to breathe normally, to move his head and lift it up without his neck hurting, without feeling like he was about to die.

"I can't lose you. Not you. Not after Jo and Ellen. What were you thinking?"

That you were dying, and I couldn't let that happen.

"You're lucky I fucking figured it out. It was the god damn rope. I burned it while you were hanging up there about to become a fucking corpse. The damage from it got you down. Now come on, let's get you to a hospital."

Dean helped Sam sit up, and then put an arm about his waist, letting Sam drape over his shoulder. Sam tried to feel at his neck, but Dean gently took his hand and lowered it down.

His voice was soft now when he spoke, in comforting parent mode, "No, no, Sammy, you don't wanna do that. It's alright, everything's gonna be okay. I gotcha."

Sam just let Dean help him to the Impala, and when he got into it he was more than ready to close his eyes and go to sleep, hoping to forget all this.

If only he could tell Dean he hadn't been in danger of dying, not really.

Lucifer would have just brought him back.