WARNING: Re-edited. Also, spoilers for season 5 finale "Swan Song".
Author's Note: This takes place at the end of the season 5 finale episode "Swan Song", right after Sam jumped into the cage.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Dean Winchester was no stranger to pain.
In all his life he had been bloodied and broken more times than most war veterans.
He had experienced ruthless beatings, piercing knife wounds, the excruciating hole-punch sensation of when a bullet penetrates flesh… He had even known the agony of being torn to shreds by beastly demonic dogs.
Then there was the time that didn't count as life… Be it because he was technically dead for the duration of his time there or because he couldn't bear to actually recount that time in his memory, Dean didn't see his trip to Hell as part of his life. At any rate, the pain he had endured during his stay in the pit was definitely more than anyone alive could imagine.
But all these pains were from physical sensations. Wretched, awful, torturous experiences, but physical to some extent and manageable all the same.
The kind of pain that really bothered Dean was never of the physical sort. His mental scars outnumbered his physical scars by a longshot, and familiar as he was with emotional wounds, they never ceased to wind him.
The loss of his mother still had the potential to pull at his heart on a good day, and his father's passing was yet another traumatic event to add to his list. Ash, Ellen, Jo…The countless victims he had been too late to save on hunts…Each death burned a mark into his very soul. Branding into his essence a kind of hurt that never really went away- was only ever masked by the brave face he wore for his brother, and anyone else who came to rely upon him.
So Dean Winchester was no stranger to pain. Physical, emotional…He had known them all and survived them equally.
But none had ever hurt this much.
It was an ache so deep it was almost hollowing him out. Like the loss had actually burrowed through his entire core, leaving nothing but barely recognizable remnants of himself which crumbled slowly under the immense weight of his guilt and grief.
Sammy.
The singular word that floated through his mind left more damage in its wake than any fist, knife, gun, or demon ever had. No death of a loved one had ever burned so thoroughly through everything he had ever cared about. He felt empty, save for the ashes of any good feeling left within him which fell softly into the deep pit of his stomach.
Sammy is gone.
Dean stared at the grass before him with eyes devoid of light.
Shock and denial fought to make their presence known to him, but being as familiar with pain as Dean was, he knew better than to give them a chance. To deny what had just happened was pointless. It would be useless. The ground would not re-open and throw his brother back to him just because he refused to believe it had swallowed him up in the first place.
And shock…Well, he didn't deserve a moment of ignorance- a moment to wrap his head around what happened.
He knew what happened because he came there to allow it to happen.
After years of giving all he had to keep his brother out of harm's reach, he was the official reason his brother was now dead. Gone forever in a valiant act of devotion to the world. Dean had watched, finally letting go of his own devotion to his brother's safety.
He did not save Sam.
He let him die.
And for it the Earth was now still turning, peaceful as was possible for the world and its inhabitants, but Dean Winchester couldn't care less.
His brother was dead, and although he was no stranger to pain, this one hurt Dean worse than any pain ever had and worse than any pain ever would again.
The heat of tears finally stung his battered cheeks.
Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)