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He saw some of the black figures shift and glide, flying, but almost translucent like shadows. The screaming in his head stopped for a second and his vision cleared. Sam shook his head and tried to focus on Dean in the parking lot. Was Dean screaming? No, it was in his head. But it hurt to look at them, like he couldn't quite focus.
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Sam tried to focus on them he wondered if they were reapers, come to take his brother away from him again. No, no, he was still in the parking lot, there was just black around the edges. His vision was getting black around the edges. He tried to crawl to his brother's prone body. Sam tried to move towards Dean again, falling to his knees in the process. Sam had failed him again, just like he always did. Sam watched as Dean's eyes slid closed and he fell unconscious onto the pavement. "Sammy." Dean whispered desperately, his voice breaking over the name. It felt like an icy hand had wrapped around his heart, and Dean was dying all over again, again and again and again before his eyes. He made a move towards his brother, but found himself struggling to breathe, let alone move. "Dean?!" Sam yelled, as he watched Dean's knees buckle. Obviously, no one was going to grant the prayers of a boy with demon-blood. It had only been a short time since Dean's roadside confession about what had happened in Hell, and Sam had prayed that he would never see Dean that broken and miserable again. The expression left his face as soon as he caught sight of Dean. Sam turned to look at him, an eyebrow already raised in question. Not only that, but he had stopped walking a few steps back.
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He realized Dean had stopped walking too. That was usually the first thing he and Dean confirmed upon arrival. It was almost like a cold spot, only Sam was pretty sure their hotel wasn't haunted. They had just parked the car and were walking back to their hotel room after their 2am cemetery visit, when the temperature seemed to drop even more. Sam realized it wasn't doing anything to distract Dean, or himself, from their current state of misery. Although Dean usually liked those cases, they could do them on auto-pilot, which was what they were doing with this one. Problem was that it was just a simple salt-and-burn. Sam didn't know what to do about any of it, so he tried to just focus on the hunt. It reminded Sam all too much of Dean's electrocution and the week he had spent slowly dying before Sam's eyes. The dark circles under his eyes were beginning to look permanent. But these days Dean was just as sullen, if not more so, than Sam, a fact that only made Sam more depressed. Growing up, whenever Sam was feeling down, Dean had always been there to find some bizarre way to cheer him up - usually by being an idiot on purpose. Worse yet, the weather was beginning to affect their moods. If Sam hadn't known any better, he could have sworn he was in the Pacific North-West or, god forbid, Canada but he and Dean were actually working a case in North Carolina. It had been cloudy, misty, and unseasonably cold for days.