Writer's Note: I literally couldn't get the image that inspired this story out of my head. It's the cover to this story. Really though just any of those promo shots of Sam from Sacrifice will get you feeling feelings...

Wisp

"Sam?" Dean said quietly, slowing his approach.

Sam flinched, looking up with glassy, unfocused eyes.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice scratched and raw. He looked down and set his palms on the bench, readying himself to stand up. He breathed deeply, gathering resolve, knowing this was the last leg - final yard - the end he'd spoken about so hopefully in the Impala just a week or two ago. He wasn't getting any better. Every second's delay was a couple degrees and a few notches against his health.

Sam doubled over slowly, overwhelmed, and hoped it looked like he was simply getting ready to stand up.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, making sure no one else heard. Sam felt Dean's hand brush the back of his head carefully, then move down to squeeze his shoulder. Sam swallowed and nodded, still staring at the floor.

"C'mon Sam," Dean said, moving his arm around to Sam's back and gripping him carefully. Dean was a strong, steady support as Sam lifted up from the bench and stumbled into him.

"Hey-hey-hey okay, I gotchya," Dean murmured again, so quietly that Kevin couldn't hear. Dean had to ignore the angels in their presence - he knew they could hear him. He glanced their way as he steadied his shaking brother. Both Metatron and Castiel kept down-turned postures, expressions grave as they stood in position, reverently silent. It was disquieting; felt like a funeral even though Sam was right there, in Dean's arms, still alive and breathing.

Kevin just looked scared, huddling on the other side of the room away from the altar, watching them. Dean swallowed his anxiety but noticed his own trembling hands as he braced Sam up against him once more before they ventured forward together.

Small, halting steps. Sam grasped Dean's shoulder tighter at the movement. Dean returned the grip around Sam's thin waist.

Sam had lost too much weight…

Listen, I may not be able to carry the burden that comes along with these trials, but I can carry you…

Dean hadn't known how literal those words were turning out to be.

He hadn't known… And if he had…

Dean blinked and felt a tear roll down his cheek as Sam grabbed him again with an accompanying whimper. Dean stopped and turned, alarmed, and looked into his brother's eyes. Sam stared dazedly back and swallowed.

"Uh, sorry," Sam swallowed again, "no… 'm okay," Sam said, his voice strained, his face gaunt and hollowed out.

Dean had a sudden urge to pull Sam back and get everyone out. Burn the place - and all these sacred items laid out at the alter - down into ashes and cinder. Nothing felt right about this. God wouldn't do this…

"Dean," Sam breathed, his eyes closed.

Dean winced, still battling with himself on whether or not to call the whole thing off.

"Keep going," Sam whispered, urging his brother to start moving him again. "S'okay."

Dean's breath caught as he made Sam take another step.

"No, it's not," Dean replied thickly, his voice muffled by the echoes ricocheting off the pocked and decayed wood. Dean sniffed again, reaching the circle painted in the center of the floor.

"Okay, y-you gotta take a step up and over, Sam," Dean coached, his voice wavering dangerously. Sam lifted one foot over the white powder and landed it carefully, Dean maneuvering behind him. He glanced again at the angels, both of whom remained dead quiet and facing the floor. No doubt trying to give him the illusion that his last moments with his brother were private. No solace came from that. They all knew the odds, but the angels were acting like Sam wouldn't beat the odds. But Sam would beat the odds. Like they'd always done…

"…There is pretty much nothing the Winchesters can't do if they work together…"

Dean recalled Charlie's words. God damn it but they weren't together on this. It was just his little brother… Dean couldn't do anything…

Sam barely cleared the line of salt, tipping too far forward until Dean pulled him back, eliciting a whimper of pain from Sam.

"Sorry-sorry," Dean whispered quickly, steadying him again. Sam grasped back onto Dean, the gesture one of automatic forgiveness.

"G-good, Sammy," Dean's voice cracked, pulling Sam into him for a hug.

Sam let out an anguished gasp, doing the best he could to return the embrace but Dean could tell that he was halfway to collapse.

Sam's head fell against Dean's shoulder, breathing heavily from the exertion. He vaguely lifted his hand to grasp Dean's shoulder.

"Sss… gonna be okay, D," Sam promised, sounding young. He sounded so young…

Dean had just finished reading the page and began to turn to the next when Sam placed his hand on Dean's.

"No, no more, Dean," Sam said sleepily, tucked against his brother's side on the bed.

"What - don't you want to see if they find the grail?"

"Do they?"

"I can't tell you the ending - that'd be cheating."

Sam shook his head wearily and sighed as he moved in closer.

"Sir Galahad's really cool," Sam said wistfully, nearly asleep. Dean turned to look more closely at his little brother, having detected a note of sadness in his voice, and brushed his hair back. Sam gave a deep sigh and Dean watched his little brother slip into dreams.

"Yeah, he is," Dean agreed softly, closing the book, his work done.

Dean closed his eyes, holding himself back as best he could. He couldn't help the tears nor the small tremors that came from the fast releases of breath he had to give up as he held his little brother.

Dean barely contained the shiver of a sob and moved his hands around to Sam's waist again.

"Okay, goin' down, hold on to me," Dean ordered, his voice strained. Sam did as he was told and Dean lowered him down onto the floor. Sam started coughing as he reached a sitting position. Dean moved up closer on the floor, kneeling to grasp Sam around his back and delicately placing his other hand onto the back of Sam's head.

"You okay?" Dean asked, watching solicitously as Sam's coughs tapered off. Breathing heavily, Sam managed a small nod and looked up at his brother. Eyes worn and red, he managed a dull focus on Dean. Too much effort to make facial expressions, he stared into his brother's green eyes. Dean tried to smile and squeezed the back of Sam's neck.

"You're gonna make it, okay?" Dean said, no longer giving a shit about whether anyone could hear him. "You're gonna finish this and close the gates of hell and you're going to come back to me, you understand?" Dean ordered, his voice shaking, as he lowered Sam down to the dirt floor. Sam's eyes remained fixed on his brother, giving brief expressions of discomfort as he made his landing.

"Sammy? You hear me? You understand?" Dean's voice pitched with urgent anger. Sam blinked up at Dean, a tear escaping and falling down his temple.

"Dean… I don't think he can hear you anymore-" Metatron whispered hesitantly. He could hear the deafening shrill tone resonating within the room. Too many powers had already started to converge; the trial was almost under way.

Dean ignored the angel.

"Sam-?!" Dean sobbed, watching his little brother blink up at him blankly, his lids getting heavier and heavier. "Sammy-?!"

"Dean, get out of there," Castiel warned fearfully.

Dean gritted his teeth and watched Sam's eyes close, his head fall to the side.

"-Dean!" Castiel shouted.

With one last look, Dean wrenched himself away from his brother's side.

Just as he stepped out of the circle, a blast of heat, wind and light erupted from the center.

"SAM!" Dean shouted over the sharp resonances that had begun at a dull roar and kept darting into higher and higher frequencies. Terrified, Dean clasped his hands against his ears and turned around to bear witness. His brother's body had been catapulted above them and hung suspended. Streaks of light bulleted out from the altar's base to circle around and through him. Every shaft piercing through made Sam's frail body hitch and jolt in convulsions, thrashing grotesquely above their heads.

"SAM!" Dean screamed, every ounce of him willing for this to be over and finished and god damn it just let it be fucking done!

Dean felt the light and wind building. It wasn't finished. It was almost there, but it wasn't finished. The light seemed to gain in intensity along with the shrill resonances and shoot through Sam faster, relentlessly whipping him around like he was no more than a marionette hanging through lightning sharp shards of energy and force.

All at once, the light collided into itself and swirled into the form of a spear that angled itself fast and crushed into Sam's chest. Sam gasped, his eyes opening wide, shocked by the torture as the spear funneled all the way into him and lit his whole body into brilliance.

Dean watched, awestruck. Helpless.

The light twisted inside Sam, exploring the boundaries and eventually started to dim everywhere else and whistling into his right arm. As all the forces and light blew through him and into the extremity, Sam let out a scream that tore across the room's four walls and contracted his whole body to clutch at his arm.

"Sam! Sammy hold on! Hold on!" Dean yelled desperately. Sam shook violently as the light burnt him from the inside out.

"Sam!" Dean cried.

Another blast erupted around them, wind and light and the force unknown overwhelming the room for a split second before it completely vanished.

Dean watched Sam crash to the floor with a dull thud. The room was stunned silent, water dripped nearby, and all Dean could think about was that he couldn't see Sam breathing.

"Sam!" Dean cried out again, knocking the altar over in his haste to get to his brother. "Sammy!" Dean whispered, crouching down low and sliding the kid over onto his back. He realized the tears were his, falling onto the ground and over his brother's body. He pulled Sam up and onto him, cradling him in his arms. Shaking fingers stretched out and pushed to find a pulse.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon, let me feel that heart beat-" Dean gasped, blinking his vision clear and brushing Sam's hair away from his face. "Be alive, don't you dare be dead," Dean whispered, pain and anger intermingling as he pressed and pinned his fingers against Sam's neck, unable to find it. "C'mon," he said again, his voice pitched and breaking, "C'mon…"

"-Dean," Castiel's voice rung out behind him. Dean ignored him, everything in him, every ounce of him willing Sam to come back.

He heard glass shatter nearby, a simple, delicate sound. Almost like a champagne flute having been tipped over, shards clinking against each other before settling again.

And just as the sound settled, Dean felt a wisp of wind float through, gently ruffling past Sam's hair. The small pocket of air moved so deliberately and Dean watched, eyes blazing with hope and grief, as Sam took a small, shallow, unconscious breath of air.

Writer's Note: I'm keeping this as incomplete for the time being. I initially wanted to end it here but I'm hesitant to slam the door on it just yet.

Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you thought if you can spare the time. Thank you again! ~ Alex