A/N: Ok, I'm gonna warn you now that this is a rather depressing fic. I hope you like it anyway though. I came up with it in english class, and like usual, couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it. Then I figured, hey, why not post it. This story has gone through so many major re-writes in the past two or three months that I've lost track, but now here it is in it's (hopefuly) final form. I'd also like to remind people who are interested that I would love to edit any fanfictions for you as I'm kind of an 'editor in training'.

Time line: Takes place soon after 'Croatoan' in the second season

Spoilers: This chapter contains a spoiler for the first episode of season 2. There may be spoilers for anything up to 'Croatoan' later in the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.

Chapter 1

Christmas Eve

The worst moment in Dean's life came when his father died. He thought there could never be anything worse, then this had happened.

He looked around the hospital room. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In the background he could hear quiet, electronic beeps indicating a heartbeat. He was comforted by them. As long as a heart was beating, there was a chance of survival, there was hope. He heard the muffled voices of a man and a woman approaching.

"He'll be lucky if he survives the night," the man was saying.

"Poor kids," the woman said. "And on Christmas Eve no less."

The door clicked open and two sets of feet tread cautiously on the polished floor.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "There's nothing we can do at this point but wait."

Dean bit his tongue. It was all he could do to keep from crying. He wanted to ask if there was a chance, but couldn't. If he opened his mouth, the tears would come forth in torrents, and the words would beome a scream. He looked at the floor as one set of footsteps retreated. A hand fell lightly on his shoulder.

"If he manages to get through these next few hours, there's a chance he'll live," it was the woman doctor. "But don't get your hopes up. I'm sorry to have to say this, but it's more than likely he won't live out the night. It's okay to cry you know." She added. "I mean, he's your brother."

Dean didn't react, and eventually she too drifted away. He knew they would not be coming back. He laid a hand on Sam's broken wrist. The place where his cast had been only a few hours before seemed to be the only part of him untouched.

"How could you be so stupid Sammy?" His voice trembled. "Why did you do it?" he gripped Sam's hand tighter and looked away. Dean could barely stand seeing him like this. When he looked at Sam, he was consumed with the guilt. He hadn't been able to protect him, hadn't been able to save his baby brother.

'You watch out for Sammy,okay?' Dean winced as he remembered those words, knowing he had failed the most important thing John had ever asked of him. His eyes fell on the extra bed in the corner. They had set it up when the doctors realized he could not be moved from Sam's side. He would not need it. There would be no sleep for Dean tonight. He grimaced as he looked back at Sam.

"Why'd you do it Sammy?" He asked again, knowing it was pointless. There would be no answer. There would never be an answer.

No. The doctor said there was a chance, if he could just get through the next few hours.

"You're gonna make it Sammy. You heard what she said. You just need to hold on a little longer. You can get through this. I mean, hell, look at what you've been through already," Dean tried to smile, but it died before ever reaching his lips. The words sounded hollow, feeble. A tissue-paper barrier between him and the real word that was fast dissolving. Nothing this bad had ever happened before, to any of them, and Dean knew it.

"Dammit Sammy, don't you die. Don't you leave me to do this job alone. I can't kill that son-of-a-bitch demon by myself." If it hadn't been for Sam, Dean didn't know what he would have done over this past year. Sam was the only reason they had found that demon again, and he was the only reason they knew about the connection between it and the psychics. Without Sam, Dean couldn't imagine how many mistakes he would have made, how many innocent people he would have killed, how many evil things he would have missed. Sam was the only thing standing between Dean and a decision he would regret for the rest of his life. But more than that, he was Dean's only friend, his only brother, the only remaining member of Dean's broken family.

If someone had to die, it should be Dean, not Sam. Sam was the strong one. Sam was the brave one. Sam was the one who had the guts to stand up to their father. Sam was the one who could do something with his life. He could go back to school, become whatever it was he'd been studying to become. He could at least pretend to have a normal life, to fit in. Maybe he could even forget the horrors he had seen. That was not an option for Dean. Dean was too far in. He would never have a normal life, never fit in, never forget. He could never get out. The job was the only thing he had, but it didn't matter anymore. Sam was more important than all of that.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry for bringing you back into this. I'm sorry for dragging you out of school. I'm sorry for Jess, and for ruining your life..." he kept going. He couldn't stop. The guilt and the pain were overwhelming. He apologized for every wrong he'd ever done him. He apologized to Sam for the times he hit him, and the times he made fun of him, and the times he ignored him. When he was done, he just sat, gripping Sam's cold hand. The only sign of life in him was his chest, slowly rising and falling. He looked so fragile, as though a single touch would poke a hole right through him. Dean remembered calling him just that: fragile. If Sam made it through this, he would never again merit that description.

"Please Sam," he pleaded. "You can't die, you just can't. You're the only person I have left. I won't make you hunt anymore. I swear I won't. You can go back to school, get a real job. You never have to see me again if you don't want to. Just don't die."

Later, Dean was never able to figure out if the next moment had really happened, or if he had just imagined it. He thought he felt Sam's finger twitch. He looked up to see Sam's eyes flicker open, and he smiled at Dean reassuringly. But the smile didn't make him feel better, it did the exact opposite. His stomach knotted and every muscle in his body tensed. He grasped Sam's hand with both of his, twining their fingers together. Then he heard something he had hoped never to hear again.

At 12:01 am on Christmas morning, those tiny electric beeps, barely noticed until now, quickened, tearing through the silence as they became a single, mournful note.

A/N: Yes. I have done the unthinkable. I killed Sam. There was no particular reason I choose him over Dean, it just happened. I'm really depressed now, and I should probably go hide from the people who are bound to hate me for writing this story. This was originally going to be a one shot, and I was just going to end it there, but I have a few more chapters I want to write. Now, please please please review. Just press that little blue button right there. C'mon, you know you want to.