"What am I supposed to do?!" Dean shouted. He sat back in his chair and stared at Sam's motionless form on the dirty and tattered mattress. He wiped his eyes and took several deep, ragged breaths. He'd just finished apologizing to Sam for letting him down, for not saving him, and he had hoped he'd feel some small measure of relief after that action. But there was no relief. Just the long chasm of his guilt and grief, feelings Dean knew he'd never be free of as long as he still walked the earth.
How could he have let this happen? Dean knew he should have been more careful. If he and Bobby had shown up a minute sooner, maybe even just half a minute, they could have shot that son of a bitch before he stabbed Sam. Actually if he looked at it deeper, Dean saw that he never even should have let Sam go into that diner alone. If they'd gone in together, maybe the yellow eyed demon wouldn't have taken him. So many what ifs. Considering that Dean's one role in life was to protect Sam, and he had failed at that, he had to be the biggest fuck up that ever lived.
If Dad was still alive, Dean thought, he'd kick my ass for this. Worse, he'd probably shake his head and say, Son, I'm so disappointed in you. After all I taught you, you let this happen. You are worthless.
"I am worthless," Dean whispered, licking his dry lips. Well, perhaps Dad wouldn't have said that, but he sure would have thought it.
And now what? Dean considered killing himself. It was the best option, really. Drive off a cliff or just shoot himself or something. He'd be doing everyone a favor. At least that way he would never again have to meet up with another hunter, see that look of pity in their eyes...that Dean Winchester. He used to be one of the best, but then he let his brother get killed and the YED go free. Poor thing, poor burnt out shell of a man. Yeah, there wasn't much reason for him to keep living at this point. He'd lost his mother, and his father, and now Sammy was gone too.
"Oh, Sammy," Dean said and completely broke. He hated crying, it seemed he'd been doing nothing but crying lately, but this time he just let the grief wash over him entirely. He was sobbing, shaking so hard with the force of it that he thought he'd literally break into pieces. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he just covered his face with his hands and wept open mouthed like a child, hating the strangled cries coming out of his mouth, hating the snot dripping into it, crying harder than he thought he ever had in his life.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dean was done. Totally exhausted, he leaned forward out of his chair and onto the floor and fell asleep.
His dreams were kinder than he would have expected. He was in the hospital, the one he was in after the car accident, when he almost died. The day his Dad died. He was back in bed, with the tubes and wires and stuff hooked up to him, and Dad was standing next to his bed.
"Dad!" Dean said, shocked. "You're al-"
"Dean, I know what's happened. And I know what you have to do."
"What I have to do?" Dean was confused. He looked at the other side of his hospital room, and there was another bed in there. Sam was in the bed, and was clearly dead. Dean gasped and it all came flooding back. Dad watched this and nodded.
"Dean, you know what you have to do, don't you?"
Dean sat back against his pillows and closed his eyes. "Yes, Dad, I know," he said.
He woke up with a start and it must have been a few hours later, it was dark and Sammy was still dead. But Dean was no longer despairing. He knew what he had to do.
It'll be easy, he rationalized. I'll get ten years. That'll give me till I'm 38. Plenty of time to catch yellow eyes and put him down. Plenty of time to let Sammy get out of this and back to school, meet a nice girl, whatever he wants. And since he knew what day he would die long ahead of time, plenty of time to make it look like an an accident. Sam would never need to know what had happened, what he'd done. And making this sacrifice, Dean could finally feel like he'd done something worthwhile.
He stood and leaned over Sam's lifeless body on the mattress. "I'll see you soon, Sammy," he said, and hurried out the door. There was no time to waste.