Lost Companion
Poor Sam Winchester was trapped in the closet by a huge cabinet blocking the doors, courtesy of Max's telekinesis. But what Sam saw next in his vision made him want to break down the door any which way he could.
Dean Winchester was kneeled down to the floor in front of Mrs. Miller, cleaning up her cut that she got from her collision with the counter. That's when he walked in. Dean looked up to see Max standing in the doorway. He reached to his pocket to get his gun and pointed it at him.
"No!" Mrs. Miller exclaimed as Max telepathically turned the gun around, it pointing toward her and Dean.
"Don't." he said as he took a step foward.
He cocked the gun as Dean began to speak.
"If you want to kill her, you'll have to go through me first."
"Ok."
The trigger was pulled by itself as blood splattered against the wall and window. Dean collapsed to the floor with a bullet to the head.
Sam had his eyes tightly closed as he tried to come back to earth. He screamed out in pain as the ache in his head worsened, then eased off. He realized that he'd just had a vision of his brother being shot.
"NO!" he screamed out. He pushed and pushed against the door, but the cabinet would not budge.
Meanwhile, in the room upstairs, Sam's vision was coming true.
"If you want to kill her, you're going to have to go through me first!"
After a moment's hesitation, Max replied. "Ok."
The gun cocked and pulled it's trigger, the blood decorating the pale white walls and part of the window. Dean hit the ground with a 'thud', a bullet hole indenting his forehead. The gun then moved to the direction of Mrs. Miller.
"Max, no. Please!" she begged.
Before the gun could be cocked and shot again, Sam ran into the room, his heart stopping and it felt as if it swam up into his throat. He saw Dean laying there on the floor, blood pooled around his head now.
"DEAN!"
He rushed over to where Dean layed, his hand cupping underneath Dean's head. Tears were now forcing their way down his cheek.
"No. This can't be happening."
He sat there in silence as the tears poured from his eyes.
A couple of days later, Sam stood in front of a gravestone that read, "Dean Winchester: A Hero, A Brother, A Son, A Friend". Sam wiped a tear from his eye as he heard someone coming up behind him. He turned to see his dad standing there, also staring at the gravestone.
"Dad!" Sam exclaimed.
"Hey, Sam". He smiled some, looking at him for just a moment, then back at the gravestone.
"What happened?" John Winchester asked, just barely audible for Sam to hear.
"He, uh," He hesitated for just a second. "Got shot."
"Got shot! Where at?"
"The head. I tried to get to the room quick enough but, I was trapped in a closet with a huge cabinet in front of the doors."
John shook his head slightly. And for the first time since Mary's death, he cried. Sam looked over and could tell that he was crying; he could see the tears streaming down his face. He almost felt sorry for the poor man. But he mostly felt sorry for himself. Or was it hatred, for he couldn't get to Dean in time? He couldn't tell. All he knew, was that he was soon embraced in a hug with John. They let go soon enough. After some minute of silence, Sam spoke up.
"What are we gonna do now?"
He sighed before responding, jabbing his hands in to his jean pockets. "I have no idea, Sam. Your mom's gone, your girlfriend's gone. And now your one and only brother is gone." He looked down at the gravestone once more. Sam did also and agreed solely on what John said next. "Damn it, Dean. Of all the situations you've been in, been close to death, you just have to get involved in a shooting. I knew you were smart; but, this? I... I can't even find the words to describe what's happened to you this time. We love you dearly, your brother and I, and we want to wish you the best of luck up there in Heaven. Tell your mom we said hi."
Sam added. "And tell Jessica that I still love her and that I truly miss her." He smiled as he then looked back at John, him glancing back.
"Well, I guess we better be going. It's getting late."
"You're right."
John turned around and headed back to the truck he drove. He climbed in, started it up and drove out of site after waving to Sam. After he left, Sam turned back to the gravestone one final time and said, "Oh, and by the way, I'll take care of your baby." He smiled as he walked to the Impala, got in and cranked it up, driving off into the fading light of the sun; the love and memories of his brother, his one true friend, staying with him forever.
