"No...no!" Dean's pleads are almost a whisper as the heavy weight of his brother sinks into his arms. It's all he can do to hold him upright.

Sam is cold and motionless as Dean attempts to lift up his face; he needs to look at him. He needs to find out how he can fix this.

"Sammy..." He says desperately. "C'mon, man...don't do this to me! Not again...Damn it! Wake up!"

He can see his brother's face clearly now. It's pale, inexpressive and smeared with blood. He feels the only warmth left of Sam in that same blood, which he only now notices on his hands and clothing.

He chokes as tears begin to blur his vision, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"Sammy..." His breath catches in his throat as he cries. He can't fix this. It's done; everything's over.

In a daze, he glances over to the gravel-covered ground beside him, where his silver handgun lies.

He cries, knowing now what he needs to do. He can't take this anymore.

He gently places his brother's now dormant corpse against his chest, holding onto him with one hand as he reaches over for the gun.

"I'm sorry, Sammy...He apologizes as he slowly lifts the firearm and caulks it against the side of his head. "I can't..."

His finger hesitates to pull the trigger. He knows deep down that this isn't what Sam would have wanted. But he just can't do this anymore. He needs to be with his brother.

He swallows back his sobs, lowering his head and placing a shaky kiss on top of Sam's head. And then he breathes deep and readies himself. His hand turns steady and his expression suddenly cold as ice, like the trained soldier he'd always been. He stares off into the unknown, unblinking.

"I'll see you soon, Sammy..." he tells himself before he pulls the trigger.

Dean jumps as he wakes, immediately sitting up and greeted with a moonlit motel room and deafening silence. He can feel himself shaking as he lifts his hands to examine them.

No gun. No blood. He notes, as he rubs his fingers together. All he can feel is cold sweat sticking to his body beneath his snug, ash-colored shirt and the stillness of the room as he pants softly.

He wipes a hand through his hair and then down and around his lips where he stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, willing his heart to stop racing so fast. He closes his eyes for a moment, thinking back on what he just experienced as he drops his hand and exhales.

That felt way too real to just be a dream, he thinks.

He hears something shifting beneath the covers in the bed to his left and glances over.

"Aughhh...Dean?" Sam blinks and squints his eyes, trying to get a clear image as he leans up in bed.

"-Is this Heaven?" Dean asks, completely serious.

"...what?"

"Did we...?" Dean doesn't even know where to begin as he glances around the room. "Where...?"

"Dean, we're in Minnesota. And it's 3 in the morning! Go back to sleep!"

"But..." Dean's voice trails off as he looks over to the left where Sam's back is now facing him. Sam's there, and it's a relief. But in his experience, it was never easy to tell what's real and what isn't. And he needs to be sure.

"Sam..." He tries again, tempted to throw one of his pillows at him to get his attention.

"Dammit, Dean, I am beyond exhausted right now! Would you please, just-!"

"-Sammy, don't get mad at me right now...just..." Dean cuts him off as he throws the sheets off of himself and sits up in bed.

"Don't..." He repeats, rubbing at his temple. "Not now...please..." Dean's tone is uncharacteristically urgent and it catches Sam by surprise.

"What's gotten into you, Dean?" Sam turns around, still lying in bed beneath the covers, but with his full attention now on his brother. "What's wrong?"

"Look, I just can't right now, okay?" Dean sounds weak as he makes his way across the small gap between their beds and Sam decides to let him slide this time.

"Okay...sure." Sam agrees sarcastically. "We'll just argue about this later then."

Dean quickly pulls the bed sheets back and makes his way into the bed as Sam moves over without further protest.

"Geez, Dean, you're freezing!" Sam twitches at the contact between their legs as his brother edges closer, but he doesn't push him away or tell him to back off.

"Nah, you're just a natural heater." Dean comments with a slight smile.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asks as he opens his arms and takes his frozen older brother in.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Dean sighs in relief as he buries his face against his younger brother's chest.

"Just some freakish nightmare..." He says against the fabric. "I'll be fine."

"Wow," Sam pauses, raising his eyebrows for a moment in amazement. "And you call me a bitch."

"Shut up!" Dean groans as he readjusts himself, wrapping his arms more comfortably around his brother's chest. The sudden, familiar warmth immediately puts his mind at ease as Sam wraps his own arms around him and chuckles beneath him.

"For all the times I kept you close like this when we were kids, after you saw some scary movie or somethin', I think this is the least you owe me."

Dean sounds upset, but he isn't; far from it, in fact.

For the first time in a long while, Dean actually feels at peace. Just lying there, listening to the strong, yet subtle, hypnotic rhythm of Sam's heartbeat. And feeling the heat from his body as it warms him down to his soul.

Here's here, Dean thinks. He's really here. I didn't lose him. I'm not gonna lose him.

"This is kinda nice..." Sam admits suddenly, taking in a deep breath and sighing peacefully. There's a smile on his lips that Dean could read just by listening to the sound of his voice. And it makes him happy, though he holds back his own smile. It would be creepy if he suddenly got all sentimental, right?

"Guess we finally caught a break," he says instead, changing the atmosphere a bit. His eyes are shut now, resting as he continues to listen to his brother.

"Yeah, 'bout time." Sam's eyes, on the other hand, are open, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spins silently above them.

For a long while, the two just enjoy each other's company, taking note of every small movement or shift that takes place between them. And even when they momentarily run out of things to talk about, they don't pull away.

For the remainder of the early morning, they retain the property of magnets and fall asleep on and off again in each other's arms, just like when they were kids.

Except, it's the other way around now, with Sam holding Dean together.

And they aren't kids anymore. They know this. A part of them knows that maybe this isn't normal; that this isn't the kind of thing that grown-ass siblings should be doing. But they aren't your typical grown-ass siblings either.

And they also know that no matter how old they get, as long as the two of them are both alive and kicking, and probably even afterward; they'll still need each other. Or at least want the other around. And that's just how it is; how it needs to be for everything to be okay.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean asks, cautiously. He pauses, swallowing a leftover swell of emotions from his nightmare as he grips his brother's shirt tightly, waiting for a response.

"Yeah?" The sudden tug alarms Sam.

"Dream or no dream. Die like that on me again and I'll kill you."

Sam chuckles lightly. As if he has any control over Dean's dreams. His smile quickly fades however, as he feels the strong grip Dean has on his shirt and the intensity of his grasp as he tightens his embrace. It saddens Sam to think that, even after all they've seen; the dream Dean had must have honestly frightened him. After all, Dean isn't the type to get spooked easily.

"It's alright, Dean." He says in an attempt to calm him. He gently strokes the top of his older brother's head, just as he had done to him when they were younger whenever he would have nightmares.

"It's alright. I'm here."