He can't breathe.

This is how it feels to have your skin ripped off while you're still alive, he's sure.

He can feel his heart beating in his ears, his blood rushing through his veins and his sheets are drenched in sweat.

The shadows are creeping in on him; he can see their deformed shapes and reaching claws coming for him.

They're going to tear him apart and there's nothing he can do about it; he's not even strong enough to take on a lowly demon nowadays.

Terror grips hold of his heart and he can't stop his hands from trembling as he reaches out to his brother, sleeping peacefully in the other bed at the other end of the room.

He can hear them now, whispering mockeries and treats, laughing hysterically as he tries to make his body climb out of bed. His throat is parched, and he can't make a sound and Dean won't hear him.

He's not even sure if Dean'll want to hear him.

"You're a monster Sam, a monster. I've tried so hard to pretend we were brothers; that you weren't one of those filthy things that we hunt."

His own hallucinations are drowning him in despair and he can't, he's not worth his brother's help anymore. He's gone over the edge and there's no way he can ever come back.

His vision is blurring, and he can't stop the convulsive shaking of his body. The demons will be all over him soon to drag him away to that special place in Hell he's sure they're keeping extra hot just for him.

"Sam! Sam, you son of a bitch, don't do this to me now! Snap out of it!"

He can hear him, he can see him, but try as Sam might, he can't quit shaking. Everything hurts and please, please let it be over now –please just…

"Hey, hey, hey! Sammy, Sammy it's me!"

Cool hands land on each side of his head and it's like someone released his obstructed airways. Sam arches up from the bed, gasping as if he'd been held underwater for too long, his hands grabbing frantically for his brother's t-shirt. Dean is looking down on him with a saddened frown and Sam can't produce another sound other than frightened little chocking noises.

The demons! They're crawling over Dean's shoulder! Can't he feel them?!

"De—"

"Shit, Sammy why?" Dean whispers brokenly with tears in his eyes. And Sam wants to tell him he's sorry, but he can't. He can't because the demons are whispering again, leering at him with malignant eyes and deceptive smirks with impossibly pointy teeth.

He needs to get them away, he needs to warn Dean!

"N-nuh!"

"Christ Sammy!" Dean's trying to grab hold of his brother's flailing arms so he can inject the tranquilizer into his system to give him some rest.

"N-no, De—"

Dean bites his lip and closes his eyes as he empties the syringe into his system. "It's for your own good, bro. It'll help to take the edge off; give you some sleep."

The demons are slowly crawling backwards with angry sneers on their hideous faces, disappearing into the shadows again.

Sam knows they'll be back, they always come back, he's as certain of this as he is surprised about the fact that Dean is cradling him in his arms now, holding him close to his chest, letting him listen in on the erratic beating of his heart. He vaguely notices that he's not trembling anymore and that he's feeling sleepy with every stroke of Dean's hand through his moist hair.

The room is brighter somehow, the shadows he'd thought to have seen before now nowhere to be found. His head feels heavy and he can't keep his eyes open. He looks up at Dean again and watches him smile down at him encouragingly.

Dean is safe, there are no demons coming for them. Everything is okay; he can sleep now… just a little.

"'Salright, De…" he slurs with a smile and lets his eyes fall close.

Dean nods shakily and holds back a sob, dropping his forehead against his brother's before pressing a kiss there. "It's alright, Sammy…" he whispers, more to himself than to his brother.

"It's going to be alright, I promise."