Rating/Disclaimer: K plus for blood, and I don't own anything.

Summary: SaV tag. The brothers are reminded of what matters most. Hurt! Sam and Angst! Brothers…

Note: I hope you enjoy this tag, please let me know what you think.

In The End

Sam wandered around the twenty-four hour mini-mart aimlessly, his eyes downcast as he walked through the empty aisles. The store was barren, which wasn't odd considering that it was after one in the morning. The only person in the place aside from himself was the bored cashier at the front, a young guy that had all of his attention focused on his iPhone.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Sam sighed heavily as he mulled over the past forty-eight hours. The whole thing with the Siren had left him shaken to the core – and he was sure Dean felt the same. They had parted ways with Bobby, assuring each other that everything was cool between them – which, really, was fucking laughable. Things were so far from okay and had been for a while – the Siren had just brought some of their issues to light.

Sam's shoulders slumped as he recalled the awkward car ride that had followed. They had barely spoken a word to each other, unless it was necessary. There had been no light-hearted bickering, no talk about where they were going or what their next move was – just silence. When they had finally stopped driving, Dean had taken off almost immediately – muttering something about beer and poker.

He hadn't asked Sam if he wanted to come, had not tried to convince his brother to go out and relax like he would've a year ago…and Sam found that he couldn't blame him. He wasn't stupid – he knew that Dean wanted time to himself, hell; Sam was surprised that Dean was even sticking around at all.

After the things I said to him…

He hadn't been lying when he told Dean he didn't mean what he had said while under the Siren's spell. That didn't mean he hadn't thought it, in one form or the other. But god, he had never, in his entire life, considered Dean weak. His brother was the strongest person he had ever known – he had gone to Hell for him for Christ's sakes, and he had told him to get over it like it was nothing.

And what had he ever done for Dean? Lied to him, over and over and over again…ignored his dying wish, didn't save him from the Pit – can't even be his little brother anymore.

The list of his failures could go on for miles. Sam felt tears burn behind his eyes, but he blinked them away stubbornly. Crying wasn't going to solve anything – it hadn't when he had found out about Dean's deal, and it certainly hadn't when Dean had died last May.

Sam didn't deserve his brother, and he knew it. Hell, he was still lying to him…still meeting with Ruby and harnessing Azazel's parting gift. Dean was right about not being able to trust him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat at the realization and wondered if he was doing the right thing. I thought I did the right thing with Dirk…and look how that turned out.

He just wanted this war to be over with – he didn't want it to end bloody…the thought of watching his brother get torn apart again…Sam shuddered at the image. He would rather Dean despise him for the rest of his life and be alive to do it. At least that way if he did die – which was looking like a good possibility at this point – Dean would be able to handle it better if he hated him.

Running a hand through his hair, Sam took a shuddering breath, trying to ease the ache in his chest. He was losing Dean slowly but surely, and it was all his doing. I don't know what to do anymore, he thought despairingly.

He wasn't even sure that he could just be Dean's little brother again, not after being alone for so long.

"I don't know when it happened, maybe when I was in Hell, maybe when I was staring right at you. But the Sam I knew, he's gone."

Sam could recall the words as if Dean was right beside him and repeating them in his ear right now. His heart twisted a little as he thought them over – it hurt because it was true. He wasn't the same person he had been a year ago, and it scared him. Maybe I really am turning into an evil son of a bitch after all, he thought to himself half-heartedly.

A shudder ran through his long frame at the thought and he clenched his hands into fists when another idea ran fleetingly through his head, maybe I should just end it now. He sucked in a breath and shook his head, chasing away the thought quickly. He couldn't – wouldn't do that to Dean, not unless there was no other choice left.

Stumbling to a halt when he almost walked right into a display of canned pears, Sam blinked and berated himself when he realized that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. He glanced at his watch and frowned when he saw that he had been in the store for over a half hour.

Dean would be getting back soon, and Sam wanted to get back to the motel before his big brother, knowing that the older hunter would become suspicious and think that he had been out gallivanting with Ruby again. Not like I haven't given him a reason to assume that.

Walking towards the checkout, Sam paused when he saw the display of movies that were for sale, along with a bunch of candy. He hesitated when he saw the Raiders movie before plucking it from the shelf, along with the biggest bag of peanut M & M's he could find. It wasn't much in the way of an apology, but Dean didn't want to talk, and Sam wasn't really sure he wanted to either.

All he was sure of was that he missed his brother, and he missed being the one Dean could trust without question. Sam could only hope that one day he could get that trust back, or die trying.

Bringing his peace offerings to the cashier, he paid for the items and shoved them into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Sam shivered when he exited the store, the chilly air biting at his previously warm face. The motel was only three blocks away, and he hunched forward against the wind, eager to cover the short distance quickly and get back into the warmth.

He was only ten minutes away from the motel when a shiver ran down his spine – and it had nothing to do with the wintery wind that was currently numbing his cheeks. He turned around quickly, tired blue-green eyes narrowed with suspicion. Sam frowned when he saw nothing but a dark empty sidewalk, and was in the motion of turning around when a heavy body slammed into him from the side.

Sam was dazed for only a couple of seconds, but it was enough time for his attacker to drag him into the dark alleyway and put a small knife to his throat.

"Give me all the money you have, now!"

Blinking, Sam bit the inside of his cheek when he realized that three rough looking men were in front of him, two pinning his arms to the cold brick wall, and muttered, "Christo," before realizing that his attackers were not demons. He snorted a little, unable to believe that he was being mugged by regular humans. It was just…way too normal for a Winchester.

Especially for him, the freak that he was.

"Something funny?" The man that held the knife to Sam's throat demanded, the blade cutting slightly into the hunter's neck.

Sam was hit with a sudden sense of déjà-vu, his composure crumbling slightly when he recalled how Dean had held a knife to his throat barely a day before, and it hadn't been lost to him that his brother had used the demon killing knife, and not his usual one. "No, nothing is funny." He finally replied, voice hoarse but honest.

"That's what I thought," the mugger said cockily, "now tell me where your wallet is."

Sam mumbled some bullshit about it being in the front pocket of his jeans, and waited for one of the guys to lean down to search for it. He brought up his knee and bashed it into the strangers chin, not pausing to watch him go down before he used his now free right hand to smash the knife away from his throat.

He fought the muggers without emotion or thought, moving automatically as he dodged and lashed out in return. He barely felt the punishment he was dealt back, and it wasn't until all three men were incapacitated on the ground that he felt the knife wound in his stomach. Sam sucked in a breath of pain, tasting blood on his lips as he pulled his jacket and shirt over his belly button.

The stab wound looked deep, and was bleeding badly. Sam gritted his teeth as he lowered his layers back into place, clamping a large hand over the wound before staggering out of the alley. He stumbled towards the motel, blinking black spots out of his vision and swallowing back nausea.

Sam nearly cried out with relief when he saw the motel swim into his vision. He staggered forwards, knowing that he needed to take care of his injury before Dean got back. He didn't want to burden the older man even more. Besides, he was used to patching himself up, was used to the emotional detachment and the pain of being alone.

He leaned against room number fifteen, struggling to turn the lock with one of his shaking, bloodied hands. Sam practically fell into the room and stumbled towards the bathroom and the first aid kit that sat on the sink, not bothering with the lights.

Sam coughed, blood mixed with saliva spraying past his lips, he grabbed the kit and turned back to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe for support. He took one shaking step forwards before his vision tunneled and he sunk to his knees, the kit falling through his numb fingers and landing beside him.

I'm sorry, Dean, maybe it'll be better this way, was the last thing the young Winchester thought before crumbling forwards, his head hitting the thin carpet as he blacked out.

Dean sat at the bar, hunched over his warm beer with a solemn look on his tired face. He ignored the chatter of the other occupants, was oblivious to the hot blonde that kept sending him enticing looks from across the room. He sighed heavily as he rolled the beer bottle between his warm palms, his thoughts on his brother.

He had come to the bar hours ago, fully intent on getting smashed beyond thought and staggering back to the motel, forgetting what had happened with the Siren in the process. Usually drinking himself into a stupor wouldn't be a problem – he had done it often enough to numb the pain of what he had done during his stay in the Pit, but for some reason his heart just wasn't in it right now.

Sam…

"Damn it…" He growled to himself, scratching the stubble on his cheeks irritably. He was angry at his brother, but it was more than just anger…he was…tired, tired of the lies, the sneaking around, Angels and Demons – with everything.

He just wanted things to go back the way they were – before Dad told him he might have to kill Sam, before his baby brother died in his arms…before his trip to Hell and the Angel's that had entered his life. He missed the brotherly banter and the easy conversations, the prank wars and the warm feeling he used to get – because he had known he could tell his little brother anything.

That he could trust him with his life.

Dean wasn't so sure he could anymore, and that thought scared him more than anything else in the world. Things were not okay between him and Sam – everything was veering out of his control so fast that it made him dizzy. He could remember every word he said to Sam, every word his brother had snapped back in return. It still stung, all of the things Sam had said, it hurt worse than the physical fight that had ensued afterwards.

Eyes lowered, Dean swallowed, his face pinched in an attempt to conceal emotion. What's going on with you, Sam? He questioned himself, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as replayed the harsh words his little brother had said. They had both been cruel to each other, but Sam…his brother's face; the look of disgust that had adorned it during the Siren's influence…Dean couldn't recall seeing even a hint of his old brother in there anywhere.

Things had been different somehow, with Ellicott; Sam had still hesitated for that slight second before pulling the trigger. Dean squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache creeping up the back of his neck as he thought.

"Are you sure what you brought back is 100% Sammy?"

"Stop him, or we will."

If somebody had asked Dean a year ago if he could seriously end his brothers life, he would have laughed in their face at the ridiculousness of the question. Now…Dean felt his heart twist in his chest, because now he wasn't so sure. The thought of having to kill Sam was still unbearable – but he couldn't help but wonder if he could actually do it…after all that had happened in the past few months.

"I don't know when it happened, maybe when I was in Hell, maybe when I was staring right at you. But the Sam I knew, he's gone."

He just wasn't sure if Sam was still Sammy anymore.

Dean leapt from his barstool, the thought making him sick to his stomach, and rushed towards the bathroom, puking his guts up into the first stall he saw. He rose shakily to his feet when he was done and staggered back to the bar, tossing a few bills on the table to pay for his one drink of the night. I need to get out of here.

He left the bar, shoulders slumped and his heart heavy as he slid into the Impala. Dean purposely ignored looking at the passenger seat, gritting his teeth as he tried to push his depressing thoughts away. His revelation, that he probably could follow through with killing his brother if it came down to it, left him feeling shaky and terrified, and more than just a little disgusted with himself.

Dean drove the short drive to the motel slowly, parking the car outside of his and Sam's room with a sigh. Pocketing his keys, he squared his shoulders and reached for the door handle, pausing almost immediately when he realized that the door had been left open a crack, and that there was blood on the knob.

His heart skipping a beat, Dean pulled out his .45 and entered the room cautiously. "Sam?" He called, voice low as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Dean flicked on the light carefully and did a full sweep, starting at the untouched beds and ending on the floor…

"SAM!" He yelled, horror lacing his voice, red rimmed eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

His little brother was sprawled on the floor, barely moving save the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he struggled to breathe. Sam's cheek was pressed into the grimy carpet, and Dean could see the bruises and blood that marred his face. Blood was soaking the carpet, its source coming from somewhere underneath his brother.

Dean lunged forward, falling to his knees and turning his brother over gently, alarm growing when he spied the blood that soaked Sam's jacket. "Sam, Sam can you hear me?!" He asked, voice desperate as he rolled the layers of clothing up and got a good look at the stab wound. "Shit, shit!" He swore loudly, fumbling for his cell phone one handed as he applied pressure to the bloody hole.

The wound was bad, and his brother barely had a pulse. Sam needed a hospital like yesterday.

Mumbling off the motel address to the emergency operator, Dean shoved the phone back into his pocket and continued to try and rouse his brother. What happened to you? God Sam… "Wake up, c'mon Sam, you gotta wake up for me…"

His brother moaned beneath him, his eyebrows pulled together in a grimace as the pain registered. Sam struggled feebly, limbs moving clumsily as he regained consciousness.

Dean smiled shakily when Sam peered up at him through half-mast lids. "Hey kiddo, ambulance is almost here, okay? Just hang on; can you do that for me?"

"De'n?" Sam slurred, immediately coughing and struggling to pull in air.

"Yeah it's me," Dean winced when blood dribbled out of Sam's mouth, anxiety peaking to an all time high at the sight, "just stay with me Sam."

"I'm s'ry D-Dea…" Sam said through gasps, his eyes cloudy with pain, "…for e-everyth-ing…"

Dean exhaled shakily and shook his head in denial, "No apologies Sam, okay? You're going to be fine – we'll talk when you get better, sound good?"

Sam smiled a little, and Dean could easily see the love and loyalty in his dulling eyes. His chest tightened and he swiped an unruly piece of hair away from his little brother's face. "It's going to be alright Sam…" He said quietly, more to himself than his sibling.

Dean frowned when his brother suddenly let out a small sigh, and relaxed in his arms. He watched with horror when Sam's eyes suddenly slid shut, "Sam! Stay awake!" he barked the order frantically, heart nearly bursting from his chest when he realized that his brother was no longer breathing.

NO!

And just like that, Dean's world tunneled, until all he saw was Sam, bloodied and broken on a crappy motel room floor. He forgot everything else – the fights, Castiel's warning, Sam sneaking around with Ruby…the demon blood and everything that had happened with the Siren. None of it mattered anymore, because Sam was dying on him. His baby brother was dying and Dean couldn't let that happen.

He needed his brother like he needed air, and it horrified him that he had thought for even one moment that he could end Sam's life.

No no nonono! Sam!

"Sammy!" Dean choked, tears brimming as he tilted the younger mans head back and began to breathe for him. "Don't you do this, don't you do this Sam. You can't leave me." He growled out between breaths, bloody fingers searching for a pulse in his brother's neck sporadically. "C'mon, c'mon…" He whispered, "…breathe Sammy, breathe for me."

Dean didn't hear the paramedics rush into the room, was barely aware when he was pushed back so that they could get in closer to his brother. His breathing hitched when one of the medics inserted a long tube down Sam's throat, barely able to form words and answer the questions that were being shot at him.

Dean rose to his feet shakily when his little brother was wheeled from the room and towards the waiting ambulance, climbing into the back of the bus without asking for permission.

Stay with me Sammy, please stay with me.

Dean paced the empty waiting room restlessly, hands clenched into fists as he glanced at the clock on the wall for the millionth time. Sam had been rushed up to surgery over two hours ago, leaving the older brother to bite his nails and wait for the news. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes before collapsing into the closest chair.

His brother had been in critical condition when he had been brought through the ER bay, and Dean's hands shook at the thought that Sam could quite possibly die on the operating table. The knife had nicked his brothers liver, causing massive blood loss, and one of his broken ribs had punctured a lung.

The police had been by almost immediately after the ambulance, and Dean had learned that there had been a rash of muggings in the area for the past month – over six victims had gone to the police after being attacked by three men and held at knife point. The cops had found three guys unconscious in an alley not far from the motel, all matching the descriptions of their victims – and a bloody knife had been found not far away.

It was obvious that Sam had become victim number seven; Dean still had no idea why his brother had been out walking so late, but found he didn't care. Sam could have been out with Ruby – it just didn't matter. Amazing how things are put into perspective when Sam is at deaths door.

Dean had thought that there could be no worse torture than being in Hell – he had been wrong. Waiting to hear if Sam was dead or alive was far, far worse than anything Alastair could have ever done to him during his stay in the Pit.

He sighed shakily, eyes burning holes into the floor as he shifted restlessly in his seat. Dean jerked up when a shadow fell over him, and he found himself looking up at a timid nurse, who was holding a brown paper bag in her hands. "How's my brother, is he okay? What's happening?" He demanded; heart in his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Young; I don't know how your brother is doing. As far as I know he is still in surgery. I was just asked to give this to you – it's the stuff that your brother had on him when he was brought into the hospital. We still have his clothes though; the police might need them for evidence." She explained softly.

Dean sighed and took the bag, waiting for the nurse to leave before opening it. He fingered Sam's watch and bracelet silently, swallowing angrily at the lump in his throat that seemed to grow larger and larger by the minute. Next he pulled out his brother's wallet, Dean felt a small bubble of pride swell in the pit of his stomach when he saw that Sam's money and phony credit cards were all still there.

The last thing Dean pulled out was a plastic bag, still flecked with blood, with the logo of a local mini-mart stamped across it. Guess now I know where Sam was so late, he mused as he pulled out the late night purchases.

"Oh Sammy…" He breathed, unable to stop a tear from tracking down his cheek when he looked over the two items. Dean stared at the Indiana Jones movie, the one he had yet to see, and the large bag of M & M's in his hands. He recognized the items for what they were – a peace offering, an apology. It was such a Sam-like gesture, something so simple and yet Dean felt like he was being crushed with emotion.

The items dropping to the floor, Dean covered his face with his hands so that no one could see his tears.

Dean sat by his brother's bedside, looking down at the pale, bruised face silently. It had been a day since Sam had undergone surgery – and his brother was holding his own.

The surgery had gone off without a hitch, but the doctors kept reminding Dean that his brother was still critical – not that the older Winchester needed reminding, what with the breathing tube securely attached to his brothers mouth. Sam had taken a bad beating, aside from the damage done to his liver and lung; he had suffered a fractured wrist, seven broken knuckles, four broken ribs and a few thin lacerations from the knife.

He still hadn't called Bobby, unsure if he could explain what had happened to Sam without losing his composure. Dean had elected to wait until his brother woke up (because he was going to wake up) and he had a chance to talk to Sam.

Dean rubbed his brother's forearm absentmindedly and drank the sludge that passed as coffee slowly. He had no intentions of leaving Sam's side until the younger man woke up and they had a chance to talk. He was determined to make things right between them again.

Settling back into the uncomfortable bedside chair, Dean sighed and prepared to wait it out as long as was needed.

When Sam awoke his body felt numb, save for the irritating dryness in his throat. He moaned softly, eyes fluttering as he tried to open them and examine his surroundings. A warm hand was clasped around his forearm and squeezing it soothingly.

"Wake-up, Sammy, c'mon dude."

The voice floated towards him, and Sam immediately recognized it as his brothers. "De…" He rasped, turning his head heavily towards the voice. He blinked rapidly, eyes finally focusing on his brother. He knew that he was in a hospital immediately, the soft beeping of the machines around his bed and the strong smell of antiseptic making it obvious.

"Hey Sam, it's about time you woke up." Dean said quietly.

Sam frowned when he saw the bags under his brother's eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks – Dean looked beaten down and completely drained. "How long?" He croaked, wincing as his voice cracked and his throat burned.

Dean didn't answer him at first, instead offering him a few ice chips, which Sam accepted greedily. He sighed with relief when the ice melted down his throat, soothing the fire, before asking again – this time his head clearer.

"Three days, man. You were in and out of it for the last day or so, though. Do you remember what happened to you?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded and struggled to sit up, relaxing only when his brother put a hand to his chest and raised the bed a few inches. He remembered everything, the Siren, being in the store, the botched mugging and dragging his sorry ass back to the motel.

"You scared me, Sam. Thought I was going to lose you – got back to the motel and you were just lying there…doctors had me thinking that you were going to die…"

Sam was silent before answering softly, "Sorry, didn't mean – "

"Why didn't you call me? Sam? You had your phone in your jacket – you almost died man. You lost over half of your blood supply, were on a vent for an entire day…you, you stopped breathing." Dean cut him off, looking directly at his brother, hands now clenched in his lap as his voice broke over the last word.

"I…I just…I thought I could handle it, Dean. I didn't…I'm sorry." Sam whispered, eyes burning.

"I know things aren't exactly awesome between us at the moment, Sammy. Things aren't okay; even though we keep pretending they are…and well, everything was really thrown into perspective for me when I saw you unconscious on the floor…I guess I just forgot how badly I needed you until I almost lost you…again." Dean blurted out, cheeks burning as he avoided eye contact with his brother.

"Dean…I…" Sam started, at a loss for words.

"We have to stick together Sam, no matter what happens. I can't lose you again, okay? We have a lot of issues and I know that – but in the end none of that matters to me."

Sam swallowed and looked down at his hands, "I'm sorry Dean, about Ruby – about my stupid abilities. I didn't…I don't enjoy lying to you, man. I just, I don't want it to end bloody, you know? I…I can't watch you get ripped apart again – I'll do anything Dean, anything to stop that from happening again."

"Seems like we want the same thing, doesn't it?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam nodded in agreement but didn't say anything in return.

"You go, I go, Sammy. I'm through with taking sides – I don't care what the Angels think anymore, man. You're my family, my only family – and I'm on your side no matter what. I know you better then I know myself – and yeah, you changed a bit since I got back from the Pit – hell, I changed too and I know it – but you're still my pain in the ass little brother and you always will be, no matter what happens." Powers or not, Sammy.

"Yeah?" Sam asked meekly, a bubble of hope forming in his chest.

"Yeah." Dean nodded solemnly.

Sam smiled, a true dimpled grin that lit up his entire face, and Dean couldn't resist offering a smirk in return. "Get some sleep, Sam, okay? You've been through a lot and your body needs some rest, we'll talk about busting you out of this place when you wake up."

"Chick flick moment over?" Sam asked quietly, eyes already sliding closed.

"Yeah." Dean answered softly, for now, little bro, for now.

Things weren't even close to being okay between them – but they would be eventually, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

END

I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in into you darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you

This was so very, very hard to write. I have a lot of difficulty writing any season four centric tag – not sure why but I do. Also, I know this was a little fast paced, hope none of you minded that. Anyways, thanks for reading and reviews are love!

Ashley