He never saw it coming. One second he was fighting tooth and nail against a crapload of demons, one after another never ending. The next he knew he was on the ground. He never even felt himself fall. Like there was second lost somewhere when he hit the ground. He only came into focus on the ground, the ravaging demons now seeming very far away. He could hear Sam running towards him, saw him come into view and drop down beside him, move ever so slightly so that he was lying in Sam's arms instead of on the bloody pavement. The rushing sound in his ears grew louder, he wanted tried to stay awake, to fight, for Sammy, always for Sammy, but the rushing grew louder and louder. Sam was saying something, holding him as if he was afraid to break him, hurt him further. But he knew the damage had been severe, he could feel everything. Not his legs, not his arms, not the blood pouring out of nowhere and everywhere. But everything. Like it was all zoomed in. The rough gravel under his shoes. The torn sleeves of his shirt against his arms. And Sam, with his arms around him, but not close. More like knew he was dying. He was trying to choke out the words. to tell Sam he was sorry that he failed, but they wouldn't come out. Nothing would. He was choking on his own blood and he could hear Sammy far off calling but couldn't make out the words. He grasped for air, but all he came up with was more blood. All blood. Suddenly, it was like all time had stopped. He lay there in Sam's arms, the demons long gone from sight. He could hear Sam clearly now, and noticed that it was not words of anguish, but comfort that flowed from his brothers mouth. Blood was still pouring from everywhere and nowhere, and he could feel it clearly now. But Sam was still there, telling him that it was okay, it was okay, it was going to be okay. He wanted to speak up and tell Sam he was crazy, there was no way he was going to be okay, but all he did when he opened his mouth to speak was choke on more blood. He couldn't breath again and the weight was crushing down on his lungs as he grabbed for anything, anything that would drag him back to the ground and keep him awake. He found Sam's jacket sleeve and held it tight enough to choke out what he knew was going to be his last word.
"Sammy."
He choked again, his lungs filling up with blood and oh god he could feel it. He could feel the burning hot liquid seep into his lungs and he looked up at Sam with a fear that he hadn't let himself feel since he was four years old. But Sam started speaking again fast and soft and he looked up questioningly at Sammy's words and tried to speak but Sam shushed him and continued speaking fast and soft and he listened and believed, he believed that everything was going to be alright for the first time in forever. Still grasping on to Sam's jacket, he managed to stay conscious, although he knew no amount of help would save him now. He could feel the blood that seemed to be rushing from his body and he didn't even know that one person could bleed that much and still be alive. He felt his heart speed up in chest and thought about how he hadn't felt his heart race, had barely felt it beat, in years. He could see the blue sky past his brothers head, the trees going in and out of focus. Focus, focus, focus. But he knew he was done for. He tried to speak again, get one more word out, but the blood was filling his lungs and his mouth and he was choking and grasping and he could hear his brothers comforting words. Before the light faded, he managed to choke out his actual last word, a testament to the bond with his little brother.
"Bitch."
And then everything went black.
...
Hit. Kick. Dodge. Hit. Dodge. Hit. Kick. Stab. It went on and on an endless stream of demons. All they could do was fight through them. Hit. Kick. Punch. Hit. Dodge. Kick. Hit. After an hour or maybe a day the endless group of demons seem to thin out enough to be able to see Dean ten yards away almost finished fighting the ten demons that had surrounded him. His attention had turned back to the last one he had to stab when he saw Dean fall. There was no shout, no scream, no cry of anguish. It was like he had blacked out for a second, and only waken up when he had hit the ground, and there he lay, unmoving. Ripping his knife out of the demon he ran for his brother, kneeling at his side and pulling his body up onto his knelling legs, he could feel the gravel rough beneath him, but the pain was far less that the pain the dean was in. He could see blood everywhere, seemingly leaking out of every pore of his brother. No, he thought, no no no, not now, not ever, no. His head seemed to spin, looking for someone to help anyone, but they were alone in a desolate wasteland of demon corpses and no one there to help them. Then suddenly time seemed to slow. He began to process what was happening, dean was dying. Dean was going to die. Surprisingly, instead of anguish filling his body, he felt almost relief. Not relief, no, but comfort, like it was okay, because it was. It was going to be okay. He didn't realize he was saying the words out loud until he felt dean convulse and looked down. Dean was choking, on his own blood and grasping at the air, finally holding onto Sam's jacket as he coughed up the very liquid that kept him alive. Every time he opened his mouth more blood seemed to spill out of it, dark red, gushing, an endless stream. Clutching his jacket tighter, Dean choked, finally letting out one final word.
"Sammy."
He began to choke again, harder, and his hand held tighter and tighter to Sam's jacket, a fear that Sam had never witnessed filling his brothers eyes. Time seemed to slow again. Afraid to hold his brother tighter Sam merely curled his arms around Dean. He began to speak, soft but fast, for he did not know how much he had left.
"Hey, hey its okay. Its okay. You're alright. its okay. I know. I know you're scared. But don't be. Don't be sorry. You saved me Dean. You saved everyone over and over again. So its okay. There's nothing to be sorry for. Don't. Don't try to speak. Its okay dean. Its okay to let go. You're going to heaven. I know you are. C'mon dean. its okay. You're going to heaven. You're gonna see mom and dad and Ellen and Jo and Bobby and everybody okay, its going be okay Dean. You know it. Its okay, to let go. Just let go."
Dean continued to hold fast his jacket until his green eyes glazed over and he opened his mouth to try and draw in any breath at all but the blood kept pouring out and he kept choking and shaking. With one last gasp dean choked out the word
"Bitch."
Dean choked again and again, until finally his body grew still and the blood stopped flowing out of his mouth, and his ever green eyes stopped seeing yet held a warmth and light in them that Sam had never seen in life.
...
Four hours and a tree later Sam stood in front of the wooden pyre that held his older brother. not yet lit, though stocked with wood and drenched in gasoline, he paused before flicking the lighter. Behind him, a voice spoke,
"Would you like to say a few words"
Sam sighed and glanced at the body on the pyre. Surely there were things he could saw. A lifetime of memories, of thank yous, of unanswered questions he could spill from his body. He sighed and looked back at Castiel. The angel had arrived only minutes after Dean had died, kneeling beside Sam and placing a hand on his shoulder, before helping Sam carry Deans body to the Impala, and placing it in the backseat. Castiel was surprised though to see Sam's face free of tears. Those tears would be shed later, after the pyre lit and the body burned. He stepped forward toward Dean, his corpse, and spoke the only words that would really mean something.
"You're free big brother. You've earned it."
He paused, then laughed softly to himself and added one more word,
"Jerk."
He flicked the lighter. The pyre lit up. He and Castiel watched it burn, and gathered the ashes. Climbing into the Impala, Sam let Cas drive, and he did, to the destination that neither of them had said aloud but both of them knew.
Just inside the town limits of Lawrence Kansas, they buried the small pine box containing Deans ashes, and his amulet, next to Mary Winchesters grave.