A/N - I own nothing Supernatural-related. The title of my story is from 'Death or Glory', by the Clash.
Dean wouldn't die; he couldn't die. He was invincible. He had no Kryptonite. But then Sam looked into his eyes and it was like looking into the end of the world.
"Sam, that's not Ruby."
The realization was stark and awful on Sam's face. He had hesitated, when the demon had been a little girl. There was no hesitation this time. He turned and swung with precision and wide-eyed intent, but he was not fast enough.
Every time Sam had lost people close to him before – Jessica, his father – Dean had been there to carry him through it. Now Dean had gone too, and there was no one left to make it worth going on.
She was so close. When she forced her lips against his, he expected the faint tingle of something metallic, or maybe the rotting taste of sulphur. Instead, she tasted like nothing.
He couldn't breathe. The tiny, sad animal sounds he was making seemed to be coming from someone else, and he wished he were screaming. It would have been much more worthy of the enormous hurt inside of him.
"Sick 'em, boys."
He screamed then, like every wound inflicted on Dean was being ripped out of his own flesh. In a way, he wondered if it wasn't.
Someone came into the room and stopped. Sam didn't even look up. His own fate seemed to diminish in importance in a world without Dean in it. The half-expected attack never came, though. He indifferently noted that the intruder was very still for a long time.
Death was sudden and blinding. Then it passed; he realized that he was still alive at the same moment as a surge of anger drove him to his feet. He would destroy Lilith. He would hunt her until the end of the world.
"Sam. I'm sorry." Bobby's words were mostly a whisper. Sometimes his voice crackled up through it, and Sam could hear the grief there. He didn't respond. He didn't know how to share his own heartbreak yet.
"Back! I said, back!"
She had ceased to be terrifying. Now that she had taken the only thing in his world to be terrified for, she had put him in control.
"I don't think so."
This was worse, far worse, than anything else Sam had experienced. After Jessica had died, and his rage over her loss had burnt out, Sam had found that he could remember a time before her. He had even thought that he might have been happy, then. It had given him hope that he could be happy again.
Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels. Sammy, remember what dad taught you. Okay? And remember what I taught you.
He could not remember a time before Dean.