Remember what I taught you
Takes place after the Season 3 finale, a different perspective.
Sam opened his eyes, tears spilling from them onto his brother's open wounds.
He stared again into the lifeless eyes of the man who had raised him.
Lifeless.
Dean was gone.
Sam could not bear to remove his arms from where they were wrapped around Dean's body.
He spoke again to his brother.
"Dean. I'm sorry. I'm sooo sorry." He choked on the sobs pouring from him again, pulling Dean up closer to him.
Again, his tears flowed and fell onto Dean's jacket, leaving wet spots mixed with the blood.
Dean's blood.
Pooling on his chest, falling onto the floor.
Sam felt the world slip away from him again as he watched for a breath, waited for his brother's eyes to focus on him.
Smile his wicked smile and tell him it was all a joke.
But the moment didn't come.
Dean's eyes remained unfocused, staring into the abyss.
Sam screamed out.
"Nooooooooooo!"
The family in the basement heard the screams and feared for the young woman and the men they had met just moments earlier.
But they had been told to stay in the basement no matter what.
And so they did.
They listened as they heard the running, arguing and finally the screams.
The horrible screams of someone in pain. The screams of a witness to that pain.
Then unearthly screams, like nothing they could describe.
And then silence.
Now the sounds of grief came to their ears.
Grief such as they had never heard.
The mother stepped forward towards the stairs.
She began to climb upwards, pulled by the sounds as only a mother could be.
Drawn to the grief to try to alleviate it somehow.
Her mother's heart broke to hear such anguish.
What could have happened up there?
Her husband tried to draw her back, make her stay where they had been told to stay.
Her daughter cried out as she stepped up the first few steps, afraid of what might be beyond the door.
They had witnessed pure evil within their own child.
What could be taking place in their house now?
She carefully opened the door.
As she peered into the room she only heard the sobs.
All else was quiet.
She moved into the room where the sounds came from.
She saw the young tall man – the one who had nearly stabbed her daughter - bent over the other man…sobbing as if his soul might shatter.
The young woman lay completely still beside them, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling.
She did not move.
The mother stepped closer, drawn to somehow help the young man in his despair.
As she came closer she saw the man on the floor.
He was ripped open, blood covered his chest and legs, it was all around him.
His clothing soaked in his blood.
And soaked in the tears of the man who held him.
Her own eyes welled up as she took in the scene.
So much blood.
So much sorrow.
She stepped closer to the young man.
She reached for his shoulder, to somehow let him know she was there.
Sam was lost to his grief.
He had failed Dean.
Dean was in Hell, just as he had feared for the last year.
Sam had been unable to break the deal.
The hellhounds had shredded his brother and taken his soul.
Despite his promises to Dean the hounds had come.
Though Sam never saw the beasts he saw the results.
Dean dragged from the table and torn to pieces in front of him.
He rocked in a gentle sway now, tenderly holding his brother.
Unaware that someone was behind him.
A hand touched his shoulder.
Sam jumped and grabbed on tighter to Dean, convinced that Lilith had returned to take Dean's body from him as well.
Sam turned and looked at the woman standing over him.
He did not recognize her at first, too lost in his grieving to recall her.
She spoke to him.
"Sam wasn't it? Sam I'm Rachel. I just couldn't stay in the basement any longer. I had to come and see if I could help."
Rachel looked past Sam again to the body he gripped in an embrace.
"Sam, is that Dean?"
Rachel remembered the hasty introductions in the upstairs bedroom as she was hustled downstairs with her daughter to her husband's open arms.
She reached for Sam again, but he retreated from her touch.
"Sam, what happened here?"
Sam tried to hear her words.
Tried to understand what she was saying.
And yet the words didn't seem to form a sentence in his head.
He could only hear himself screaming in his mind.
Screaming for Dean.
He looked at her with tears spilling down his face, trying to decipher her words.
"Sam? Can you hear me?"
Rachel tried again to touch Sam's shoulder, to give him a grip in reality; he seemed to be slipping away.
"D-De" Sam choked out.
Rachel knelt down to be more on Sam's level.
"Dean? Is this your brother Dean Sam?"
"De-De-an" Sam whispered through his tears. Sobs choked him again.
A sound in the foyer caused Rachel to look over towards the front door.
A grizzled looking man stepped into the room, seemingly searching for something.
She was alarmed that another monster might be stepping into their home.
But the man looked immediately past her to the two young men on the floor.
His countenance registered grief.
Bobby stepped towards Sam and leaned down on one knee beside him.
"Oh God Sam. They took him didn't they?"
Bobby moved to touch Sam but the youngest Winchester seemed to withdraw from him, curling into his brother's body.
Sam felt Bobby near him but did not want to be touched.
Rachel moved away from Sam to give the older man access to the two brothers.
Bobby knelt behind Sam, wanting to touch him but giving him space.
Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as the full measure of the moment hit him.
He saw the blood, the open wounds, the young face that had lost its spark.
The eyes. Staring out but not seeing.
His heart broke once more at the scene before him.
Another crack in an already shattered heart.
One of his adopted sons was gone.
And the other clung to a ragged edge.
Bobby didn't know what to do next.
He simply stayed beside Sam.
Rachel stood back from the scene.
The grief radiated off of Sam, seemingly in waves.
Rachel felt her own sadness now as she looked into the dining room to the body of her father.
Killed by the thing that had inhabited her beloved daughter.
She moved to the hall closet and removed two blankets.
She walked to her father's body and gently covered him where he sat.
She then moved to Sam and knelt in his line of vision.
"Sam? Can I help you cover Dean?"
She showed him the blanket.
He looked up from his brother and seemed to try to comprehend the words she spoke.
Bobby gratefully reached for the blanket.
"Thank you ma'am. I'll take it from here."
Bobby took the blanket from Rachel's hands and turned towards Sam.
"Sam. We need to get out of here. We need to give these people back their home."
Sam pulled Dean tighter into his embrace. He seemed to finally register Bobby's words.
Bobby held the blanket up before Sam.
"Please Sam. We need to leave this place. Let's take Dean to the Impala."
The Impala. Dean's beloved car.
Sam knew he would have to move Dean before long.
And yet he could not will himself to move.
He could not bring himself to let go of Dean.
Bobby laid the blanket beside Dean's body.
"Sam, let me help you put Dean in the blanket."
"No!!!" Sam screamed.
"Don't touch him!"
His face crumpled into the sadness again.
"I'll do it." He said simply.
Sam lifted Dean's body away from him, laying his upper body on the blanket.
He immediately felt the cold of Dean's absence from him.
He shivered as he reached down to move Dean's legs onto the blanket.
He carefully fixed Dean's arms and shirt so that he appeared to be sleeping.
Except that his eyes still remained open.
Staring into nothing.
Sam carefully wrapped Dean in the blanket, covering him as if to keep him warm.
Though his mind was already noting the cooling of his brother's body, he took care to cover him well.
As he brought the blanket up to Dean's face he faltered.
"Dean. I'm so sorry. It should be me here. I should be dead."
With that he reached out to close his brother's eyes.
He gazed for a final moment into the green orbs, hoping for a spark of life to appear.
There was nothing there.
Sam gently closed his brother's eyes, a sob caught again in his throat.
It was done. Dean was truly gone.
He looked into the face of the person who had raised him, protected him.
And drew the blanket up over his face.
Sam sat there beside Dean, not sure what was next.
His logical mind tried to work through this.
Tried to figure out what was the next move should be.
And yet his emotions ravaged any rational thoughts.
Sam was frozen, kneeling beside his brother's body.
Waiting for something to change.
Bobby still knelt just a few feet from Sam, opposite him.
Bobby stared into his face, waiting for the right moment to speak.
"Sam, we need to go. These people have their own dead to bury."
Sam looked up, stared into the Bobby's face, tried to understand what was being said to him.
His hand still rested on Dean's chest, feeling the blanket and still hoping for the chest beneath it to rise.
Sam finally registered Bobby's words in his muddled mind.
"Dead to bury" Bobby had said.
Was he supposed to put his brother in the ground?
Sam's mind rebeled against the thought.
No.
He would not put Dean in a dark hole in the ground.
In the cold earth.
Not his Dean.
A voice filtered through to him again.
"Sam please. We need to go."
Bobby moved to touch Sam's sleeve.
He tried to bring Sam back to him.
Sam looked lost in his thoughts.
Bobby looked up at the sound of the basement door opening.
The husband was peering up from the doorway.
Looking for any sign of his wife.
Rachel stood outside their circle, watching as the older man tried to get Sam's attention.
She also heard the door and moved to meet her husband as he stepped into the room.
She did not want her daughter to see the bodies in the room.
She wanted to protect her from the horror which she had been a part of.
She moved towards her husband, acting as a shield for their daughter from the scene.
She held her to herself, moved them out of this room towards the living room.
Leaving Bobby with Sam.
Bobby felt the urge to move now.
To escape this house.
To get his boys to safety.
He knew Sam was his responsibility now.
He felt the protective urge rise within him.
"Sam." Bobby spoke is a hushed, non-threatening voice.
"Sam, we really need to get Dean out of here."
Bobby glanced at the body beside Dean that had housed Ruby.
The body held no life at all.
Bobby could spare no energy for grief of another life lost to this war.
He needed all his energy for Sam.
"Sam please." He moved forward to take his side of Dean's body.
"No! No one touches him but me!" Sam covered Dean's body with his own.
Sam knew somewhere deep in his mind that Bobby's words were true.
That Bobby meant no harm to Dean.
And yet Sam could not bring himself to let anyone into his and Dean's world just yet.
"I'll take him myself." Sam finally choked out.
Sam slid his arms under Dean's shoulders and knees, lifting him into himself.
He then rocked back and lifted himself along with Dean's body.
He nearly tumbled back to the floor but righted himself at the last moment.
He stood, bearing the weight of his brother.
How many times had he carried Dean?
There was the time he had carried him fireman's style out of the burning house after the vengeful spirit had knocked Dean unconscious.
The time he had dragged Dean out of the path of the Chupacabra in New Mexico.
He had become Dean's personal crutch as Dean recovered from a broken ankle after a fall in the woods chasing a Fey.
Sam had held his brother up on more than one occasion.
Now he carried him as one carries a sleeping child.
He moved so that Dean's head came to rest on his shoulder.
The intimate contact caused a sob to escape his throat.
Through tears and choked breaths he stumbled towards the door.
Bobby reached it before him, moved to open the door.
Sam stepped onto the porch.
The night was cold and still.
So different from just an hour before when the demons had been screaming in the holy water spray.
Now the neighborhood was silent.
Bobby had pulled the Impala up in front.
He opened the back seat door.
Sam almost fell as he reached the car, his burden nearly taking him to the ground.
But he recovered and gently slid Dean into the back seat.
Memories of sliding Dean's unconscious form into the backseat of his baby came rushing in.
Dean after a few too many beers, sliding into the backseat in a tumble of laughs and brotherly slaps.
Dean's groans as he was placed in the backseat with a bullet wound to the shoulder.
Dean sleeping in the back as he begrudgingly gave Sam a turn at the wheel.
Sam moaned at the pain in his soul as he moved to put Dean's body all the way into the backseat.
He carefully placed Dean's hands on his chest, placing the blanket over him again.
Bobby watched as Sam meticulously fixed his brother's body, keeping an eye on the street and on the watch for flashing lights.
Bobby moved to the driver's side and waited for Sam to move to the passenger seat.
But Sam slipped into the back with his brother.
Sam slid into the seat, lifting Dean's head to place it into his lap.
He felt his brother's weight against him and embraced it.
A last moment of contact with his big brother.
And a moment that Dean would have complained was a bit too "chick flick".
Sam smiled at hearing Dean's voice in his head complaining about the contact.
But the smile vanished as reality took hold again.
Bobby started the Impala and pulled away from the curb.
Away from the pristine neighborhood.
Away from the grieving family.
Away from Ruby's body.
Away from the place of Dean's death.
Bobby drove for miles in silence, watching the younger brother in the rearview mirror.
He didn't know where to take Dean's body.
What if Sam wanted to burn him?
Where would they do that?
Would Sam want to return Dean to Kansas?
To bury him beside his mother?
Sam looked like he was the undead, sitting unmoving.
Holding his beloved brother in his arms.
And so they drove on.
Bobby finally decided they had driven without purpose long enough.
"Sam." Bobby at last said.
There was no response from the young man.
"Sam, it will be sunrise soon. We need to decide what we're doing with Dean's body."
Still no response.
"Sam. I know this is hard. But we need to burn the body somewhere out away from any towns."
Sam looked at Bobby as if he had slapped him.
"No." Sam looked as if he would cut Bobby down if he could. "No. We won't be burning him."
Bobby was surprised by this statement. The boys had burned John's corpse, he thought they would do the same for Dean.
"But Sam, I thought we'd burn him the same way you burned your Daddy."
Again Sam looked right into Bobby's eyes through the rearview mirror.
"No. We won't burn him. He'll need his body when he comes back."
Bobby turned his eyes back onto the road.
So that was what was in Sam's mind all this time.
He wanted to find a way to bring his beloved Dean back to him.
Bobby knew it was a dark magic that would work that.
And he also knew it was not a path that Dean would want Sam to tread.
But he was not going to fight that fight at the moment.
Bobby drove a little further, until he was in a familiar area;
He had hunted this area a few years ago and knew there was some wide open land ahead.
He pulled down a quiet, ill-used road.
Sam still sat quietly with his brother.
"Here." Sam suddenly spoke.
Bobby was startled but stopped the car.
"Why here Sam?" He looked out the window and saw the dark fields leading into darker woods.
"It feels right." Sam looked out at the woods and tried to imagine his brother's body lying under the trees.
He could hardly breathe at the thought. His chest tightened into a knot.
In the ground. He had to put Dean into the ground.
Bobby stood beside the hole as Sam dug at the earth.
"Sam, please let me help you." the elder hunter begged.
Sam panted but refused the assistance.
"No Bobby. I have to do this." Sam dug on.
Finally the hole seemed to be suitable.
Sam climbed from the hole and moved toward the Impala.
Dean's body lay alone on the backseat.
Sam stopped in his tracks.
"I can't bury him like that." He thought.
"I need to clean him up."
Bobby drove them to a hotel on the edge of a small town.
They requested a room at the back, to avoid being seen with the body.
Sam carefully carried Dean into the hotel room, lying him on the bed closest to the door.
As Dean would have wanted.
Sam went to the bathroom and ran warm water in the sink, warming the three washcloths hanging on the rack.
He returned to Dean with the washrags and dry towels.
He stood there, suddenly unable to think what to do next.
He looked at Bobby, fear in his eyes.
What should he do!?
Bobby stepped to the opposite side of the bed.
"Would you like me to help you get the dirty clothes off of Dean?"
"Y-yy—es-es" Sam stammered.
Bobby moved closer to the bed and waited for Sam to do the same.
Sam laid down the towels and stepped up to be closer to Dean.
Sam reached for the outer blue jacket first…it seemed the easiest place to start.
He moved Dean's arms out of the jacket and let it lie beneath him.
Dean's gray t-shirt was shredded and dark with blood.
The blood had dried and the shirt clung to Dean.
Sam decided to simply cut both shirts off of him.
As he moved to wash the horrific gashes in Dean's chest Sam began to weep again.
All for him.
Dean had done this, allowed this to be done to himself…all for him.
He washed the blood off of his brother's face and neck.
With Bobby's help he removed Dean's jeans and boots.
He washed the deep cuts in Dean's thigh.
Finally he gently leaned his brother forward to wash his back where the hellhounds had attacked him.
Sam could barely see for his tears.
"Sam, take a break." Bobby pleaded.
"No" Sam replied. "I need to finish. I can't leave him laying here like this."
Sam reached into their duffel for the first aid kit.
Bobby was puzzled. He watched Sam rummage through the kit and remove the suturing materials.
His heart clenched in sadness as he watched Sam painstakingly stitch each and every gash…closing every wound.
Finally he helped Sam put fresh clothes on Dean.
The task finally completed they wrapped Dean in fresh sheet as dawn broke over the area.
"I'm afraid we'll have to wait till dark now Sam to bury him."
"That's okay Bobby." Said Sam. "I'll have some time with Dean."
Sam sat beside Dean all day.
Telling him stories about their days together.
Telling him secrets he never shared until this day.
Crying over the future moments stolen from them.
Bobby left for awhile, returning with food…which of course Sam refused.
He sat holding Dean's hand for awhile.
Until he realized it had grown cold and stiff.
He placed it back at his brother's side.
He fixed Dean's hair.
As the sun finally set, he had said all he could think to say.
His throat hoarse from crying and talking.
Bobby stepped into the room again.
"I think we can go now Sam."
Sam allowed Bobby to help him with Dean this time, Sam's energy nearly spent.
They drove silently back to the awaiting grave.
As they removed Dean from the backseat, Sam noticed the fresh pine box lying near the grave.
"Called in a favor" Bobby said quietly.
"Couldn't bury my boy in the dirt."
Sam managed a smile for the elder hunter.
"Thank you Bobby." Was all he could say.
They unwrapped Dean from the sheet and laid him into the casket.
Sam paused a moment before placing the lid.
He needed to look on his brother's face for just one more moment.
He touched the cheek.
He fixed the black t-shirt and green shirt, making certain that they were laid correctly on his brother's chest.
And then he saw it.
The amulet.
He needed to have this part of his brother to keep with him.
He gently removed it from Dean's neck.
"Until I can give it back to you." Sam whispered into his brother's ear.
He slipped a lighter into Dean's left hand, he didn't want him to awaken to the dark with no means of light.
Then he closed the lid.
They lowered Dean's casket into the ground.
And covered the grave over.
Sam kneeled beside the grave, pushing a wooden makeshift cross into the ground.
More a marker than a statement.
And again he cried.
Bobby stood back from the grave to give Sam his privacy.
"It won't be long, I promise." Sam whispered to Dean.
Sam went back to that moment at the stroke of Midnight…
"Remember what I taught you." He heard Dean say again.
Remember what I taught you.
Sam smiled slightly.
"You taught me to never give up on my family" Sam said to himself.
"You taught me sacrifice everything to save the ones I love."
He pressed his hand into the fresh dirt.
"It won't be long, I promise Dean."
He stood and brushed off his jeans.
He had work to do.