It was hard. God, was it hard. It was the hardest thing Dean had ever had to bear. Sure, his mother's death had taken its toll on him. After all, he wouldn't be in the life if she was still around. And John's death had nearly ripped him apart. He still felt empty sometimes because of it. No matter what that man had done to him throughout his life, he still cared for him. But this? No, this was so much harder than that. Dean stared down at his brother's lifeless body splayed out on the old mattress. He hadn't moved from that spot since he and Bobby first carried in Sam's corpse. It felt surreal, like this wasn't happening. Like it was just a bad dream and he would wake up any second to find himself in bed in one of the shitty motels they stayed in, Sam asleep in the other bed snoring softly. He'd tried several times to wake up, pinching himself and the like. Nothing worked and it began to sink in that Sam wasn't coming back, that this was his reality now. And, of course, the stupid thought that Sam was just pretending ran through is brain, that he was only sleeping. Dean had tried everything he could think of to wake him up, but then stopped when he realized how foolish he must look shaking a corpse. Bobby had left a while ago. Dean had yelled at him to get out, told him Sam couldn't be gone, that he couldn't just leave him here. Bobby had had that sad look in his eyes. “He's dead, Dean. There's nothing more to it.”
“You shut your mouth! He's not dead! He can't be! He wouldn't leave me here alone!” he'd shouted, tears appearing at the corners of his eyes. He'd turned away and tried to hold back the tears. “Just get out of here.” This had been hours ago. He'd sat at Sam's side the whole time, tears trickling down his face as he gripped his cold, dead hand. “Sammy, please, come back.” The room was only filled with silence. “Please...” Dean had never cried harder in his entire life. He started asking himself why this was happening. Why him? Why did it have to be Sam? Why couldn't it have been the other way around? Sam was strong, he'd bounce back eventually. Dean couldn't bear the thought of life without his brother. He'd always been there for him. Always. “If only I'd been there to protect you, Sammy, you'd still be here. I can't do this without you.” Silence was his answer. “Sammy, please, don't do this to me.” After a while, he had contained himself, had come to terms with Sam's death, though that would soon change. As stupid and as reckless as it was, he was going to bring his brother back. If it meant selling his soul, he'd do it. He'd do anything to save his little brother.
