emptywithout:

Sam sits in the armchair by the fire. It crackles and spits
as he stares into it. He has a whiskey in his hand and a slight smile on his
lips.

Dean wanders into the room with a book in one hand and a
beer in the other. He says nothing, but brushes up against his brother as he stands right beside him. Sam looks up at him. Dean looks down and
raises his eyebrows.

Are you ok, Sam?

The words don’t actually need to be spoken.

Sam takes a deep breath and nods, looking away. Dean’s mouth forms into a
tight line, not believing him, and he shakes his head. But he sits on
the couch quietly. Putting the book down next to him, he leans over and tucks a
lock of hair behind Sam’s ear.

“Sam,” he says quietly, bringing his hand back to his lap.
He takes a sip of beer, not taking his eyes off his brother.

Sam nods and looks down. His voice is quiet. Dean listens
and says nothing.

“So…I kinda had an epiphany today, I think. I was being all
existential…” Sam lets out a huff of breath here, sounds a little shaky. Dean
just sits and listens as Sam continues.

“…why am I here, what’s the point of all this…that kinda
stuff. I mean, I suffer. I’ve been suffering, right?” Sam still doesn’t look at
Dean. He waves his hand in the air as if he’s disregarding his own words.

“Some things I’ve
shared with you, others I haven’t.” Dean stiffens at these words and he closes
his eyes.

“I’m alone. Mostly. I mean I have you, but I don’t really
know love. Not the way I should.  I’m struggling.
All the time. And…” Sam pauses again and Dean opens his eyes. Sam seems unable
to continue. But he takes a sip of whiskey and keeps talking.

“… I’m an empath. I absorb people’s feelings. I take it into
myself and suffer second hand stuff.” Sam clenches his fist here and pounds his
chest softly. Dean shakes his head and sets down his beer. He reaches out to
put his hand on Sam’s, but Sam lifts his hand and puts it in his lap. He looks
down at the glass in his other hand. Dean pulls his hand back, tries not to be
offended.

“Anyway, my point is…I came to the realization that maybe
that IS my purpose. I’m supposed to be alone, I’m supposed to suffer. I’m supposed to be the one with the pain and
the sadness – because if I have it – that means others aren’t having it…I can help others. I’m not here for me, I’m here
for everyone else. I can take on suffering because I am strong. I am built for
that.”

Dean closes his eyes again.

“It’s my purpose.” Sam stares into the fire.

Dean stands up, a tear forming at the edge of his eye.

“And I think I’m ok with that.” Sam swallows the last of his
whiskey, resting his arm on the chair.

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