"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Sam."

Sam eyed Crowley warily, looking up at him from his spot on the floor. His body felt broken. He had no fight left in him.

"I feel strangely connected to you, in a way. So this isn't easy for me. But you keep him human. He keeps coming back to you. He just can't let go. I need him to let go. This is how it has to be."

Sam watched as the two demons who had been knocking him around approached again. He didn't see this coming. He had been jumped while putting gas in the Impala. He had let his guard down. They knocked him out and dragged him to this abandoned warehouse where Crowley was waiting.

"You think Dean will be okay this?" It was barely a whisper.

"Dean won't know I had anything to do with it. He'll know demons got the jump on you. Caught you in a weak moment."

"Won't believe you."

"Maybe so. We'll deal with that later. You don't need to concern yourself anymore. Maybe I'll even make some calls. Get you into Heaven. I'm feeling generous."

One of the demons pulled out a knife while the other unnecessarily held him down. Sam couldn't help the sob the escaped him as the blade plunged into his chest. For a brief moment he wondered if this was how Dean felt.

In a second it was all over. Crowley and the demons were gone and he was left to die. Alone. Somehow it seemed fitting.

Through the ringing in his ears he heard footsteps. Voices spoke. He tried to listen.

"You need to heal him. Now." It was Castiel.

"You know we should not be doing this." A female voice this time.

"Do it."

"I will heal the wound that is killing him, but nothing else."

"Fine."

Sam felt the white hot sensation of pieces inside him coming back together. But the pain was still very real. A hand was placed on his head and he looked up into Castiel's sorrowful eyes before all knew was darkness.


Sam felt his presence without even opening his eyes.

"Dean."

"Not in the way you want."

"Doesn't matter." His eyes opened into slits, looking up at him, unfocused. "You're here."

Dean swallowed. "I am." He stood still and stared down at him. "You don't look very good."

"Why did you come?"

Dean shifted. "I just felt like I needed to be here."

Sam shut his eyes again, no longer having the strength to keep them open. "Can we just pretend. Pretend it's like it used to be."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"Just sit. Be here."

"I, uh." Dean looked around then sucked in a breath. "I can do that."

He pulled over a chair and sat next to Sam's bed. Sam let his eyes open again, noticing Dean's hands.

"Blood."

Dean lifted his hands and looked at them before letting them rest on his lap.

"Not mine."

"I know." Sam turned his head away. "There's a hunt. In Kansas City. You should come with me."

"Are we still pretending?"

Sam sighed. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off. When he woke up he turned and looked at the empty chair, unable to stop a single tear from falling.