Supernatural (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twelve

"You guys kissed, you kissed an angel, wait, you kissed a guy?" Sam asked, surprised. "No, nope, you are not turning this conversation on me first. What the hell, Sam? We already have a way of killing demons. How can you be so reckless with your life and your soul, your freaking soul? Are you trying to get a first-class trip to hell?" Dean was now shouting. "I am practicing to kill Lilith; he dragged your soul to hell, Dean, 'TO HELL,' and I couldn't save you. I tried everything, and I still couldn't save you. The guilt was killing me; I became miserable, and unlike Bobby who kept drinking, drinking isn't really my thing. So I set out to find a way to kill her, then I ran into Ruby, who told me how. That's why I did all this; I wanted revenge for what she did to you." Sam yelled back with unshed tears in his eyes. He didn't want to admit this, but the main reason he kept pushing himself was to ease the guilt he felt for not being able to save Dean. Sam just sat down; he was depressed. He hadn't even taken a break to mourn the loss of his brother. During those four months, Sam felt like he was drowning. And the nightmares were always worse and more vivid each time. He could hear Dean scream, but he couldn't hold him as the hellhounds took him. They were invisible, so he could do nothing but grasp at air, trying to stop them and failing. "Hey, Sammy, look at me; you have done more for me and saved my life so many times than anyone I know. When you say you did everything you could, I believe you. But I am here now, and I agree that Lilith must die, so we do it together. You are not alone anymore, okay? I promise." Dean said as he went to Sam and placed his forehead on his. Sam had to believe he wasn't alone; otherwise, he would sacrifice himself fighting a losing battle, and Dean would never allow that.