Disclaimer - Don't own a gosh darn thing, what so ever, sadly D: , but I can always dream :]
Author: SlashyAntics
Warnings : Character Death, Wincest if you squint - its there people, just not a full on kinda thing-
Summary: Without Sam there isn't a life to live, because a world without Sam, he is already dead. Wincest if you squint.
Dean clutched at the piece of thing medal in his hands. Clutched the blade of the old pocket till it sliced into the skin of his fingers, though he never felt any pain. He didn't feel...anything. No more pain, no more guilt or suffering, he was just blank. Though he felt a twinge of what he use to remember when he looked at the gray and white head stone.
The grass around it was bright and green, the sun makes the grass shine. Shadows were cast around by trees and such, not a cloud in the sky, so when Dead felt the wet on his face, he knew it wasn't rain. He clutched tigher at the pocket knife fiddling between his calused fingers causing minor cuts on his fingers. The object its self didn't really seem that big of a deal to people on the outside world, but to him, it meant worth everything.
His thumb drifted over the name in graved in the warmed medal handle, scratching his nails over it lightly. Dean couldn't feel the individual letters, but he knew the name by heart. 'Sammy' though the younger Sam was slightly ruffled when he saw the name, Dean was still given a dimpled smile while he had slide the new pocket knife into the hands of his baby brother.
Sam use to love to practice with it often, though the practice consisted of flipping it open with the fluent moves that he had seen Dean possed with. 'He never quiet got it' Dean thought brokenly, his laughing both a laugh and a cry. He didn't even bother wiping the little droplets of water running down his face, his laughing growing into sobbing, and sobbing into collapsing apon the grave of his little brother.
He leaned his forehead against the lone stone, among the entire field that he and Bobby had planted him. It was out of the view of others, and far away he wouldn't be disturbed. Dean clutched at it with desperate fingers and rocked harshly with brokenness than ran cold through him. He muttered his sorry to the stone, though like he thought, he got no response in return.
Dean would find a way, he had to. Dean couldn't live in a world that his sammy didn't exsist. Most probably would have wanted him dead for what he and his brother shared, but he didn't care. He rubbed the stone with his bloodied fingers smearing it slightly.
Dean suddenly jumped at the crack of unexpected thunder. Black heavy clouds had rolled in so quickly and deadly. The first drop of ran dipped across his fingers, like a gentle caress, like a sign that its okay, but its not. Without Sam it won't ever be okay.
"I promise Sammy..." Dean layed his forehead across the stone has the shower of cold ran over him and steadily soaked his clothes through. "I will bring you back. I love you baby boy." Dean layed a almost gentle kiss across the shockingly warm grave marker. His fingers reached down tearing slightly at the ground digging a slightly hole before laying the black and gold -now folded- pocket knife in the grave of the man he loved.
Sam there was a life for him to live, because without Sam here, it didn't matter.
Fin
Authors Note: Going to be a sequel hopefully! And it will be with Dean finds a way to bring Sam back, hopefully longer than this. This is just a random thing I decided to write, so please, chillax. :)