A single drop of whiskey fell from the bottle into Sam's empty glass. How had he drunk it all already? He was sure the bottle was only half empty last time he checked. Time had blurred since he'd laid Dean's body in his room. From then, he'd sunk into a drunken depression, and he had no idea how long he'd been sitting there. There lone Winchester pushed himself up and staggered out the room, accidentally dropping the bottle on his way. Glass dispersed around the now empty room, but Sam ignored it.

He didn't want to see Dean. Not yet. Images of his brother's face as the blade sank into his chest, him clutching at Sam with a weak grip as the youngest Winchester desperately promised he was going to be okay, him choking out those last words before collapsing, dead, onto his little brother. The sounds of Sam's own sobs even haunted him. He wasn't ready to face Dean again just yet.

Sam woke up several hours later surrounded by books. Piles of them towering around him and stacked on the floor. He didn't remember a thing. He lifted his head from the open book he appeared to have used as a pillow. Necromancy spells. He'd been finding ways to bring back Dean. In frustration, it seemed, as Sam caught sight of a few books splayed out on the floor by a wall and another with torn pages. Necromancy spells were a no-go zone. He'd seen their side effects way too many times to even think about doing the same to Dean. He'd rather not resurrect a bloodthirsty, murderous brother. He wanted Dean to be, well, Dean.

After poring over the books for at least another hour, despite his killer hangover impairing his focus, it appeared the only method that would work best was to make a deal. Was his soul even worth anything anymore? Dean was lucky to get a year all those years ago. Would Sam even get an hour before his soul was collected? And did he really want to put Dean through it? Bringing Dean back would be pointless if he would die shortly after – wasn't the point of bringing him back for them to be together again? Perhaps it was time for Sam to accept that Dean was gone and should stay that way. He'd fought enough and maybe now he could find some peace. Maybe Sam should think about what Dean would want, not what he wanted. He'd only recently grilled Dean for not doing just that.

But Sam didn't want to go back on his word. Minutes before Dean's death he'd confessed that he'd lied, of course he would do anything in his power to save his brother. He was just cruelly lashing out at Dean by saying he wouldn't. After the hurt from Dean tricking him into being possessed, Sam just wanted to hurt his brother in retaliation. He hadn't expected to be facing the situation of losing Dean, or at least not so soon.

Several unopened bottles of whiskey were found in a kitchen cupboard, and almost instantly Sam had downed a glassful, grimacing at the bitter taste. It took the edge off the ache in his chest, the only way to slightly ease it. Rather that than being sober.

The hunter wrinkled his nose. He was sure he could smell some kind of pungent odor. Was that Dean already? Or was he completely imagining the whole thing? Sam couldn't figure it out. He went to investigate, whiskey bottle in hand. Sam pushed the door open slowly, cautiously, as if his brother was sleeping and didn't want to wake him. Or in case he was flooded with the stench of decomposition.

Dean lay there just like Sam had left him. Of course there was no stench. Not yet. Damn alcohol. He knew he'd had way too much but didn't care too much. If it killed him he'd see Dean again. Hopefully. The mere sight of his brother caused Sam to tremble, and a sob escaped his drunken lips. He collapsed into a chair by the bed, staring at Dean's peaceful expression and silently longing for him to spring to life and open his eyes. Yet he just lay there. Lifeless.

"I'm sorry," Sam finally choked out, "I'm so sorry, Dean."
He paused as if waiting for a response. Dean didn't even flinch.

"I should have been faster. Got you to a hospital," his voice shook, words slurring, "I...I let you down...let you down."

There came another sob. The youngest Winchester couldn't stop talking to the corpse on the bed, his filter temporarily destroyed by his excessive alcohol consumption.

"I looked up to you all my life. Now what? Now what, Dean? Lost...I'm lost!"

"I never deserved a big brother like you...never. I'm a fuck up. I hurt you."

"I didn't want you to die, Dean. I lied to hurt you. I wanted to save you. But I couldn't even do that right."

"Nothing can bring you back, Dean. No one...no one will want my soul."

"I miss you."

The one-sided conversation lasted over an hour until Sam broke down into more sobs, his head buried in that damn memory foam mattress Dean never shut up about. His hand clung to his brother's tightly, trying his hardest to ignore the coldness in Dean's skin. Holding his dead hand gave Sam such little comfort.

The childish side of Sam's mind, amplified by his current condition, wanted to climb onto the bed and clutch at Dean, as he had done as a kid after having nightmares. The rest of his mind fought against it, and so Sam stayed as he was. The sobs had since faded, and he stared in the opposite direction to Dean's body.

Sam drifted in and out of consciousness and finally work properly with a splitting headache that intensified as he lifted his head. He wretched and staggered to the bathroom, throwing up violently in the toilet and groaning slowly. He pushed himself up onto his feet, scratching at the dried tears on his face and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It took him a while to bring himself to go back to Dean. To lift him off the bed.

For a moment he just stood there, cradling his brother and not quite believing the situation. It just dragged him back to all those years ago he'd carried Dean to his grave before. At least this time he wasn't so torn up. At least this time he hadn't screamed in unimaginable agony. He was at least grateful Metatron hadn't gored him to death, even if Sam wished to do exactly that to Dean's murderer himself.

The youngest Winchester brother sat on the bed and hugged Dean's body close to his chest. His head was rested on Sam's arm. Fresh tears sprung in the hunter's eyes, and eventually he got up again. He was halfway to the exit before realising I need to dig the damn grave before putting Dean in it. Never let Sam Winchester think when intoxicated. He left Dean sitting on a chair in the library and went in search of a shovel. It was an easy find; it was the materials needed to construct a casket that was the challenge. He'd rather not bury his brother straight in the soul.

After hours of searching and the highest safe amount of pain killers, Sam found no other option but to hack apart furniture from several uninhabited rooms to use the wood. It wasn't exactly a good casket but it would fulfil its purpose. No one was going to be looking at and judging his handiwork once it was six feet under. Sam carried the damn thing outside and searched for a place to bury Dean.

Sam started digging by a large tree. Nothing special about it, he just chose the first spot he could with something at least slightly memorable nearby. He didn't want Dean too close or too far from the bunker, and the location he chose seemed to fit both criteria. The tree was just into the nearby forest that appeared abandoned, and so hopefully wouldn't cause a stir if it was found a burial had occurred. The place was overgrown and not exactly picturesque, but it would do. Can't exactly let Dean rot in the bunker, and Sam wasn't going to put a corpse back into the Impala and drive to a more appealing burial ground.

Hours dragged by as Sam dug deep enough and got the casket inside. At least last time he had Bobby's help. The hunter was exhausted when the time came to actually bury Dean, but he carried on nonetheless. He carried his big brother outside to the fresh dug grave. He knelt and lowered Dean in as best he could, then placed the ill-fitting lid over the top. Sam was too tired to even cry. His face was expressionless, staring at the casket for a few moments before beginning to pile the dirt back on.

Arms aching, legs aching, chest aching, Sam staggered stiffly back into the bunker. More than anything he wanted a bath to sooth the pain in his overworked muscles, but instead he collapsed into the nearest chair and soon fell asleep.

It replayed in his mind. His quick footsteps as he sprinted to find his brother. Metatron's smirk upon seeing him, before plunging the angel blade deep into Dean's chest. The eye contact, the childlike fear on Dean's face as the blade was pulled out. His own yell, his arms supporting Dean as he could barely keep himself upright. His brother falling into him, lifeless. But that wasn't all. The story continued. Dean appeared before him, almost transparent and flickering. His eyes were narrowed and his face was twisted in a sinister smirk. The room had a chill to it suddenly. Dean's body was still in his arms. Dean was haunting him already? He didn't have time to ponder it much longer, as the dead hunter raised his hand, and Sam's neck snapped with a definite crack.

Sam awoke with a start, gasping quietly. Carefully he felt his neck, despite clearly being alive, and was relieved to not find any obvious breakage. The last thing he wanted was his brother returning in that way. Yet he refused to give him the proper hunter's funeral. Just in case.

Where will Dean have gone? Was a question debating itself in the younger Winchester's mind as he gulped down a glass of water. He hoped more than anything that his big brother wasn't downstairs being tortured, or worse, doing the torturing. Sam hated to remember Dean's self-hatred, his devastation at his actions while in Hell. The sound of Dean's pained sobs, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Sam had also failed to keep himself composed, regressing to the time he would burst into tears in the rare moments that Dean cried as a kid. Seeing his big brother, the boy who'd boasted about his bravery and promised to always protect Sam, break down into tears was such an unusual and unsettling event for the younger boy. Dean Winchester crying meant things were very, very wrong.

Sam desperately hoped Dean had been deemed worthy of heaven. God knows he deserved truly be at rest. He wondered what Dean's personal heaven would entail. Dean's favourite place was the inside of his beloved car. Perhaps his paradise involved endless road trips in the Impala with great food, including unlimited pie. But part of the enjoyment of these trips was surely due to his company. What would those road trips be without Sam riding shotgun? Was there going to be some conjured up version of Sam up there with Dean until the real one finally kicked the bucket? They already knew they could share a heaven together.

Maybe Dean could find Ash, maybe they could finally try and track down his parents once and for all. Maybe Ash already found them. It saddened Sam to think of a potential 'family reunion' up there without him while he was stuck alone in the land of the living. Not that he particularly wanted to be a part of it for much longer. He thought of everyone he knew that would (or should) be up there in heaven. Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Ash, Pamela, Rufus. Jess. At that moment, despite it almost being a decade since losing what was his longest and most serious relationship, Sam longed for Jessica. Her arms around him in those warm hugs she always gave, her blonde curls brushing against his face as she nuzzled him affectionately. Her soft voice reassuring him that everything was going to be alright, he was going to get that full ride at Stanford. He avoided thinking about how different his life could have been if only he hadn't left her to go with Dean. If only he'd protected her from her grisly end. All Sam could hope was that Jess was happy and at rest.

Cas! The hunter suddenly thought. What if Cas had found Dean in heaven, helped him to adjust? Maybe he was on his way now to put Sam's mind at rest. But what if Cas was dead, and Gadreel too. He hadn't heard from either of them since they got back into heaven. How did Sam know the angels hadn't turned on them, or Metatron hadn't killed them himself?

Not knowing Cas and Gadreel's whereabouts only made Sam feel more alone. Who did he have? Boby, the one he'd naturally turn to, was two years gone now. Almost four years since Jo and Ellen and seven for Ash. The only people alive that Sam could think of were Sheriff Mills, and of all people, Becky Rosen. Jody was no doubt an option. She cared about the Winchester brothers and now her and Sam could empathise with one another over their losses. Becky wasn't even an option. Sam was not, nor did he think he'd ever be, prepared to see her again. Would she even care about Dean's death, besides the drastic plot twist?

The sound of two doors swinging open at high speed jolted Sam from his thoughts. What was that? It sounded almost like a gale force wind. Inside? What the hell was going on? Sam silently hoped he wasn't cracking up already. He cautiously made his way downstairs, gun loaded and ready. As he got closer, he heard voices, both with a tone of desperation and urgence.

"No, please! You can't go back there without me!"

"I have to...I have to know you're safe. You're hurt."

Sam frowned. He recognised those voices. Within a second, there was a scream, followed by a second in response. Silence. He quickened his pace, but then someone called out.

"Sam? Dean?"

The hunter broke into a run upon identifying the owner of the voice. He found her there, in the worst state he'd ever seen her in. Her clothes were soaked in blood and were clearly not from around her. They'd make anyone turn their head and stare with their quirk. The bleeding was mostly coming from her leg, which appeared to be broken. Her red hair was tangled and a little matted with flecks of blood. Her blue-green eyes focused on Sam , and the fear in them appeared to subside a little.

"Charlie?"

Thank you for reading! This idea came to me randomly as I was trying to think of a good fic idea for Charlie to be involved in, as she's one of my favourite characters. I'm not too confident with this first chapter but hopefully they will improve!

Just also wanted to note that my description is awful, and by "the pair grow closer" I mean as a sibling relationship and not romantic!

Please leave a review and let me know what you think, I love feedback! And follow/favourite if you enjoyed it! Thank you:)