So another of my 'old' fics rehashed. This is supposed to take place after the end

of season 3 when Dean has gone to hell.

It covers the first month after Dean has gone and how Sam is coping or not, from multiple points of view. 1st chapter is from Sam's pov. Of course you know I love to cause Sam some angst etc and this fic is no exception!

Hope its ok! Here goes…

I don't own anyone you recognise – as usual.

ONE MONTH

One month, to the day, since his brother had been killed by Lilith's hellhound, Sam Winchester dragged himself into the small, cramped bedroom that belonged to him whenever he stayed at Bobby Singers house. He dropped the heavy duffle bag that he had slung over one shoulder, onto the floor and proceeded to rummage through it until he found what he was looking for. He emptied the contents onto the floor and arranged what he needed in order of usage. Sam shrugged out of his coat and sat heavily onto the bed. He then removed his shirt as carefully as possible, as the material had stuck to his newly acquired wound.

He had taken the day off from research to hunt a werewolf that Bobby had mentioned.

He knew that his old friend would have gone with him but he didn't want to be responsible for the safety of other people, especially someone he loved. He was supposed to have looked out for his brother, and look how that had turned out. Quickly, he had found the werewolf and killed it, but not before it had managed to gauge his arm, leaving an inch deep trail down his arm.

Sam paused, staring at the weeping wound, almost as if something was going to happen to it just by staring at it. He poured some antiseptic solution on to it and hissed as it stung – but that pain was nothing to what he was feeling inside.

He knew he was beyond exhausted. He spent every waking moment either hunting or researching ways to find Dean – but to no avail. He hadn't had one solid lead since that fateful day. Even Ruby hadn't been any help to him – preferring instead to whiter on about how he needed to tap into his dormant powers. Sam had tried but it made no difference.

'What's the point in having these freaky ass powers, if I can't use them to save Dean' went through his mind, not for the first time.

He finished cleaning the wound and picked up the suture needle that was already threaded. Without thinking twice, he pushed the needle into his skin. He bit on his lip, in an effort to deal with the pain.

"Damn it Sam. Why didn't you as me to do that?" Bobby's gruff voice startled him. Sam's head shot up, his eyes meeting his friends fleetingly, before dropping his vision back down to the matter in hand, "I can do it by myself…" Sam whispered, "I've done it before…"

"Sam…" Bobby started, concern radiating from his voice. Unfortunately, due to his exhausted state, Sam misread Bobby's concern as disappointment.

"I'm sorry Bobby…" He gasped out as he continued to suture the wound.

"Son, you've got nothing to be sorry for," Bobby insisted as he put a hand on Sam's arm to stop him from continuing.

"C'mon, let me finish it…" He asked, tentatively, knowing how fragile the young man's temper was at the moment.

All Sam could think was that, yet again he had to be looked after. Jerkily, he moved his arm away from Bobby, "I can do it myself!" He insisted forcefully and began suturing again. Bobby looked on helplessly.

"Sam…I…" Bobby began, but Sam shook his head as he knew what the older man was going to do. He was going to try to make everything alright, when it so obviously wasn't, "No Bobby…just don't…"

"Don't what Sam? Tell me!" Bobby asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

Sam mistook the frustration for anger and Bobby could see the boy almost fold into himself in front of him and it scared him, more than he cared to admit.

Sam felt his throat close up – he couldn't look at Bobby. Suddenly, Sam sprang to his feet – not bothering about the bloody towels that fell to the floor, "Don't tell me that everything will be ok!"

Bobby took a steadying breath, "I wasn't going to do that boy. How can it be? Your brother is dead – nothing will make that alright!" He paused, trying to think of the right thing to say, "Nothing will change that either! But this…terminator routine of yours…it's gonna kill you!"

"I wish it would. I want it to be over," Sam whispered, as he turned to face his friend, who could barely hold his gaze. His eyes were so empty – there was no life behind them…and that scared Bobby. "Kid you don't mean that. You think that's what your brother would want for you?"

Anger briefly flashed over Sam's face – quickly replaced by hopelessness again.

"It's my fault," Sam ground out, "He spent his whole life looking out for me, protecting me, making sure I didn't go 'darkside', making sure that while ever he was around, nothing bad would happen to me!" Sam was pacing now as frustration and guilt battle for supremacy, "What did I do for him? I died – he made a deal to save my butt – I promised I would save him Bobby…" He stopped pacing, swaying slightly as he stood in front of his friend, who had stood up earlier in the hope of stopping Sam's constant pacing, "Bang up job I did on that!"

Bobby looked at the broken man in front of him, "I know you did son. You did everything humanly possible Sam…Dean knew that. He never blamed you – for anything, you know that don't you?"

Sam did know that but even that knowledge couldn't warm the coldness that had settled in his heart since that awful day.

"I couldn't do it Bobby. The one promise that I made to Dean and I blew it!" Sam's voice held the disgust that he felt for himself at that time.

Bobby found himself unable to think of anything to say.

"I miss him Bobby," came a strangled whisper, and with those words, Sam Winchesters wall didn't just crumble – it shattered into a million pieces. Sobs racked his exhausted, thin frame as his legs suddenly decided that they couldn't hold him any longer. As he began his descent, his long time friend was there to catch him and lower him onto the bed, where they just sat with arms around each other. Sam, feeling a safe pair of arms around him, found himself relaxing into the embrace as the misery of the last month poured out of him, "We'll work it out Sam, I promise!" Bobby insisted as Sam's sobs began to quieten. Presently Sam calmed down enough for Bobby to hear the change in his breathing, indicating that he had fallen asleep. Bobby laid Sam down on the bed, managing to take the young mans shoes off, and then covered him with a blanket. Hoping that Sam would have a restful sleep Bobby brought a chair over to the bedside nonetheless – he wasn't taking any chances.

So that's the first chapter. Any good? I've got chapters from others points of view, but I'm really quite unsure about whether to post them or not. We'll see…