#15 You can't save him.

Dean was curled up in his bed, watching TV. The sheets were pulled up to his waist and his head was at an awkward angle. The conversations he and Sam had had, since he had settled in, had been seldom and nothing to write home about.

Sam was checking the internet and reading through his father's journal, trying to find some inspiration for their next job.

"You hungry?" He asked Dean with out looking up

"No." Dean snapped," If I am, you'll know."

Sam almost laughed. At least he got a decent, cocky response. They still hadn't talked about what had happened, nether of them had brought it up.

"You know Sarah wasn't trying to hurt you, she was trying to help." Sam whispered just loud enough for his brother to hear.

Dean remained silent. He didn't want to talk about it; he wanted to remain in denial.

"She's trying to help, all of us, especially you."

Dean shuttered. Just stop talking Sam. Stop! He didn't want to know this or acknowledge it.

"Are you sure you won't eat something?" Sam asked after receiving no reply," Or a drink?"

Slowly the older Winchester shook his head. Sam was becoming worried about how emaciated his brother was beginning to become. Sharp bones began to stick out where bone should refused to eat and he only drank water.

But Sam knew better than to force him to, it wouldn't be pretty. One thing he didn't know though, was what to do next.

Sam often had a dream, where he was standing on the edge of a cliff over looking the sea, Dean stood beside him. He was better, fit and healthy. But he wasn't happy, nor was Sam. It burned in their eyes.

"You know you can't save him." A voice spoke from Dean's body but it wasn't his, it was deeper and distorted.

"Why? Why can't I save him?" Sam asked back, desperate for his answer.

Dean's smile changed to a deep frown. His body shook and his eyes welled with tears.

"He's gone," The voice shook," he's gone and he's not coming back. No! Never. Not coming back."

Dean stepped closer to the edge. But Sam couldn't move to help him.

"No! Dean!"

"Dean's nothing, not anymore. He's gone. Over. Dead!"

Again he stepped closer, his feet almost over.

"O God! No please!" Tears stained Sam's cheeks.

"Nothing!! Not anymore!" Dean took a deep breath," You can't save him Sam!"

Then he stepped off and fell to his death and all Sam could do was fall to the ground and shake uncontrollably with tears and pain. He begged for his brother, he want him back. He wanted his world back.

These dreams hurt more than his nightmares, his little death visions. As far as he was concerned they didn't have time and he didn't very much care about them. Dean however was always asking him about them, asking him was he okay? They had travelled home because of those visions, then onto an asylum on the orders of their father.

Their father, who wasn't here, wasn't here when they most needed him, when Dean most needed him. How he loathed his father for being such a selfish bastard.

"Why are you staring at me?" Dean asked suddenly.

"You...you need to eat more." Sam quickly replied.

Immediately Dean pulls the covers up to his chin, hiding his frail body.

Suddenly Sam wishes he hadn't spoken those words. Oh how he wished.