Make it all go away

The End

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since Dean woke up and found the note. Two weeks since he'd rushed out of the motel to find a group of people hustled around a body. Two week since he'd seen Sam lying on the group with a whole in his head. Two weeks since his whole world ended.

Dean had tried everything to bring Sam back, he knew he shouldn't have, but still he tried. Demon deals, hoodoo, spells, witches , angels, every single thing he could think of. But nothing worked, Sam was still gone, and Dean was still alone.

Dean had done the proper burial, salt and burned Sam's bones, he couldn't bear to face the fact he was alone in this world, so every day he did what any typical Winchester would do, he went out drank himself into oblivion and slept with as many women as possible. Dean hated himself for doing it, he knew Sam would never approve, but that just reminded him that Sam wasn't there anymore, so he went out and drank and got laid again. It was an endless cycle which Dean had got himself into.

Dean couldn't face going back to the bunker without Sam, so it remained empty. Dean felt hollow inside, so he filled it with drink. He'd drive around until he found something to kill, and then drink himself to sleep at night. He hated hunting without Sam, hating driving around in the impala without Sam, yet he couldn't face trying to do anything else. He hadn't spoken to Bobby at all, he'd just gone into this bubble only Dean was allowed in. He'd stay there and go through all the nice memories he had with Sam, it was like his own little heaven running through his mind. But then, he'd remember that he'd never be able to make any knew memories with Sam, so he turned to the drink again.

This went on for months. The hunting, the drinking, the sex, the drinking, the hunting, the drinking, the guilt.

It was the guilt that was eating Dean up from the inside, why couldn't he have saved Sam, why couldn't it have been him that had gone to hell in the first place instead of Sam. Why did he have to break the first of the 66 seals. If he hadn't done that, then Sam wouldn't have broken the last one and freed Lucifer, and then felt such a responsibility to get him back in his cage. If only Dean hadn't been so weak. Why did he get off that rack, why didn't he stay. Sam was in hell for so much longer, getting it so much worse, yet he still wouldn't have ever tortured a soul to get free of it.

Every night Dean prayed to Sam, apologising to him, wishing he could see him again, wishing Sam could still be happy and alive like he used to be, wishing Jess was still with him. Wishing he'd never gone and found him in Stanford that night.

Dean knew deep down that Sam would never hear these prayers, he knew that Sam wasn't all cosy up in heaven, suicides didn't go to heaven. No, his little brother, who just wanted to get away from everything will be somewhere deep down below, locked in his own personal hell.

The guilt was eating Dean up from the inside. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, he couldn't even hunt anymore. So there he was, sat in the impala with a bottle of whisky in his hand talking away to his brother that should be sitting in the seat next to him but never would be again.

The tears were falling freely off Dean's face as yet another wave of guilt washed over him. He knew he should at least try and hide it, but he just couldn't anymore. He was broken.

Dean Winchester was finally broken.

Then Dean started talking. He knew he wouldn't stop once he'd started, that's why he hadn't spoken in weeks. But now, now was the time for talking. He just knew it.

"Sammy. I know you can't hear me, but you will be able to soon enough I promise. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a shit big brother. I should have taken better care of you, I know you always told me that you were old enough to take care of yourself, and I pretended to listen but I never stopped looking out for you Sammy, I just observed from the background. Making sure, whenever I could that you wouldn't get hurt on hunts, and that you wouldn't ever be in any real danger. But then I had to fail didn't I, I had to go and get you lost, and killed. Of course I sold my soul to save you Sammy, I couldn't live and let you die. I'm sorry for screwing things up even when I wasn't on earth. If I hadn't been such a weak person I would have never have started all this shit, which you have to clean up. I was meant to look after you, you shouldn't have had to clean up my messes for me. I should have never let you jump in that cage, I knew it then, and I know it now, I can't believe I let you do that, and I'm so sorry Sammy. I'm sorry for everything that happened to you in that cage, I'm sorry for the memories you had to bear, and I'm sorry for not being there for you to share them with. I never forgave myself for walking out that door that day, I should have stayed with you. I'm sorry. But don't worry Sammy, you won't be alone for much longer, because I'm coming. I'm coming to be with you, and I swear, I will never leave you ever again." Dean slowly raised his gun to his chin and looked up at the ceiling of the impala, as he clicked the safety off and cocked the gun, "I'm coming Sammy, don't you worry about anything any more." And he pulled the trigger.

Dean had always said he wanted to die with a gun in his hand.