I'm Sorry

3

The words “I’m sorry,” replayed in his mind over and over. The doctor was doing his job. Just like any other doctor he had known or seen on TV. The words “I’m sorry,” just came up like a pre-recorded message. “If you’re sorry, then fix him!” Sam had pretty much screamed at the doctor earlier. While he stood beside his lifeless brother.

He shook Dean’s arm a little. Ever since they were kids, whenever he was scared he’d reach for Dean’s hand. His brother had always been around to protect him. Though as Sam grew older, he didn’t need it as much as he used to. However it didn’t go unnoticed that for a while, Dean had still slept with his arm hanging off the bed a little, if Sam needed him he’d just reach out for him.

Whenever he was scared, Dean was there. Dean had always been there. Because they were family. Because Dean had raised Sam. He’d practically been Sam’s mother and his father at the same time. Though Sam maybe didn’t thank him enough for that.

Right now, here in this moment…Sam was terrified. He grabbed Dean’s arm, shaking him. He held his hand, trying to wake him up. “Dean, hey- hey, come on. I need you. Dean, please,” he begged. “Dean, you can’t leave me.” The tears pooled in the younger Winchester’s eyes, he didn’t try to stop them as they fell. "De, I'm scared."

If Dean had been alive, he would’ve woken up already. He would’ve heard the distress in Sam’s voice and been there for him. But he was gone. His skin was cold and clammy. Dean was dead.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let you leave… I should've been there. I’m sorry.” He sobbed, holding Dean’s hand still. There was so much he could say, but it would be pointless if his brother couldn’t even hear him. “You can’t leave me, Dean. You can’t-”

He started to go quiet, his sadness turning to anger. Whoever did this would pay. He would find a way to bring Dean back. Sell his soul if he had to, he knew Dean wouldn’t approve of the method. Castiel’s strength was low. Even if he could find Castiel, asking Cas to bring Dean back seemed out of the question.

Perhaps he could find another angel to help… perhaps an archangel. He hadn’t seen one in years though. With Raphael dead, Michael and Lucifer in the cage the only option would be to call Gabriel. The chances of him showing up were quite slim though.

He was running out of options, what if he couldn’t even bring his brother back? He shook his head, not liking the thought of that. Tears continue rolling down his cheeks, “I’ll be back for you, Dean. Don’t worry- I’ll be back,” he said before walking out of the room.

The halls were empty and quiet. They’d been quiet when he arrived earlier, it was a small town. Thankfully the hospital wasn’t too busy, but it was still odd having a quiet empty hospital.

Walking out the door, he headed for the impala. It was hard to make out who was beside the car from a distance, but he could see someone sitting by the car. As he got closer he recognized the tan trench coat. “Oh my god- Cas!?” he ran over. “Cas, where the hell have you been!?”

Castiel looked up, he wasn’t in as bad shape as Dean had been when Sam found him. Cas had bruises and cuts on his face, but nothing more that Sam could see. The man couldn't stand up though, so Sam had to assume that Cas was injured more than he knew.
"Sam," the angel spoke, his voice quiet. "Where's Dean?"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, looking away a moment as tears began flooding his eyes again. "He didn't make it, Cas. I'm going to bring him back, don't worry."

Castiel looked at Sam, tears filling his eyes. "I couldn't save him," he said quietly as the tears began to fall. "I tried-" he could see the confusion on the younger Winchester's face, so he attempted to tell the story of what had happened. As much as he knew or could remember.

The impala was parked outside of a local bar. The place was pretty dead right now, but it would pick up once happy hour started. That’s how things usually worked. Dean planned on going in, but he hadn’t left the car yet. He’d been sitting here for who knows how long.