"I loved you. Jess loved you. Hell, sounded like your shitty brother loved you too. In his own shitty way." Harry pointed out, not realising how easily he had admitted something like love. That he was comforting Sam of all things. He felt his blood boil and his insides churn, he spasmed painfully in the chair and arched his back. "It hurts, Sam. Please, it hurts... stop it. It's going to kill us."

Harry's voice hitched and tears came to his eyes. "Please, I don't want to die. Sammy, please, I don't want to die."

The seventh dose was not welcome, Sam was not listening and he felt another wave of agony run through him. His eyes rolled back and he wished he had the energy to beg Sam to not go all the way. If they did, this was it. And then there was nothing.

The timer went off and as Sam raised his hand, someone took a hold of his wrist.

There, crouch in front of Sam, was Raphael. He was supposed to be dead but there he was. No fanfare, no big lights or dazzling entrance. He just held onto Sam. "Hey, kiddo. Let's take a step back together, yeah?"