Dear Dean

Suicide Note

TRIGGER WARNING

Dean's POV

On the ride to the nearest motel, I kept glancing over at the box.

It all feels so surreal. How could my baby brother take his own life? I was supposed to watch over him. I promised dad that I would protect him... and I've failed. I feel regret and guilt pressing me because I can't help but feel that I played a large part in his suicide. When I should've been there for him, I wasn't. I was too self absorbed, trying to uphold my ego.

Now I sit on a motel bed by myself, when Sam should be on the bed next to mine.

I pick up the wrinkly note, written on a large sheet of paper from those notepads motels put next to the beds.

To Bobby and Dean

I'm sorry. That's all I can think to say. I'm sorry that I'm too weak to continue. For almost a year now, I've been feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I've been feeling the guilt of all of the deaths I've caused. Every day, I can't help but think of mom, Jess, dad, and everyone else that's died in my life.

I know not all of their deaths are my fault, but I can't help but to feel that way.

I just want to get rid of the pounding in my head. The migraines from the lack of sleep never go away. I've tried everything.

I want to be free. I know that there's an afterlife, so I'm hoping you two will do me the favor of giving me a hunter's funeral... because after all, I don't know if I'm going to heaven or hell. I'd rather have neither.

I don't deserve heaven anyway. Maybe I deserve Hell.

But Bobby, please take care of Dean. I know what I'm doing is selfish, but that's why I took the pills. I don't want you guys to see my mangled body from a gunshot wound or have someone have to find me hanging from the ceiling. I'd rather go in a way that you can remember my face, not a bloodbath.

Thank you for being like a father to me because my own father couldn't. Thank you for supporting Dean and I throughout the Apocalypse, the demon blood, the hallucinations...the betrayal. You are more than anything that I deserve.

I flip the note over to the backside.

Dean, you have no idea how sorry I am. I'm sorry for always letting you down; that's always been my greatest sin. I'm a shit brother and I'm sorry. I could never be the hunter that you were. I could never interact with people and understand them the way you could. Throughout the years I've lost my way and I feel reminded of that every day that I wake up and see that you're not in the motel bed across from mine.

Every day, I wrote a letter to you. I just never had the courage to send them. So, now that I'm going, I'm going to leave all the letters I wrote here for you. I don't want you to feel like any of this is your fault, because it's not. It's my fault, and my choice to leave this world.

Honestly, I haven't read over every single letter so maybe there are some things in there that you've never known about me. But it wont matter once I'm gone. I want you to understand wholly what I thought and why I chose to go because I'd feel even more guilty if I left you in the dark.

As the note progresses, Sam's handwriting gets sloppier. He was writing the end of this note quickly. Maybe he was eager to go...

Guys, please take care of yourselves.

Sam Winchester

The note ends. This isn't possible. There's something off about all of this. I know I won't be able to sleep at all tonight, so I pack up my few belongings and speed off in the Impala. The motel paper said "Lawrence Motel 6," and I know exactly where that is. It's the closest motel to our childhood home. Well, my childhood.