AN: Sam dies leaving a gaping hole in Dean's life. Dean knows Sam would want him to carry on so he does it for his brother. But, every story needs a happy ending, right?

Warning: the usual language and character death

Disclaimer: I never have, or never will own these characters sadly. I just make the plot.

Dean had always wanted to go down fighting since he was just a child and he learnt that the supernatural exists. However, he had never wanted that for his little brother. On the contrary, Sammy was supposed to go to school, become a lawyer, marry a girl, have kids and live a normal, apple-pie-life. That was the way it was meant to be. But when did the Winchesters ever get what they wanted.

It was a routine hunt - a banshee in Iowa. Sam had done all the research (since when did that ever change) and Dean had made sure that both men had at least two silver daggers on them. The plan? Run in, stab the bitch, salt 'n' burn her, then run like hell before anyone questioned why the had just killed what appeared to be an innocent old lady who lived in the woods. Like that would ever be that simple...

The Impala pulled up at the edge of the forest. Dean groaned internally. Looked like they were in for a hike. He turned to his shaggy haired brother who was staring out of the window at nothing in particular.

"Hey," Dean punched Sam's arm and he span around to face him. "Am I boring you here?"

"No," Sam sighed and fingered his phone in his hands.

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked. "We can't afford for you to be off your game man. You will just have to wait in the car while I finish her off."

"No," Sam stared at Dean as though he had just grown another head. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting you go off by yourself. I've just got a bad feeling."

Dean scoffed. "Dude, it's a routine hunt. Just in then back out - home in time for tea! And we've both got two knives so if we lose one, we use the other."

"I know," Sam huffed. "I'm not a baby."

"Great," Dean grinned sarcastically. "Then let's go!"

Dean eagerly got out of the car and flicked his flashlight on before heading off into the woods. Sam got out and followed after him, pulling out his own flashlight.

Sam didn't know what was wrong with him today. He just felt like something bad was gonna happen. He'd pushed the feelings aside all day but now that they were actually on the hunt, Sam was beginning to feel sick with worry.

The brothers moved quietly through the forest, the only sounds being Dean's feet crunching over leaves a twigs which, in Sam's opinion, could be avoided. Their flashlights shined through the darkness a lead them towards the derelict house which supposedly gave shelter to the banshee.

Dean's eyes cut to Sam and he gestured for Sam to go around the back of the house. When Sam hesitated, Dean glared at him until he took off in the direction Dean had pointed in. Dean continued into the front of the house, silver knife in one hand, flashlight skimming around the dark hallway in another. All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. The house was silent.

'That's odd...' Dean thought knowing that banshees made one hell of a loud scream. 'Maybe it's just asleep...do banshees sleep?'

He started up the stairs making creaking noises as he went. There was nothing to see upstairs and Dean was starting to worry. Where was this bitch?

It wasn't long before Dean heard a loud, piercing scream from downstairs. He slammed his hands over his ears and collapsed to his knees. He cried out, feeling the house vibrate around him. His mind switch to his little brother and he wondered if he was dealing any easier with the noise.

When the noise disappeared and plunged the house into yet another eerie silence, Dean pushed himself to his feet and clambered quickly down the stairs and into the kitchen when he saw the banshee stood over someone lying on the floor - someone who looked suspiciously like Sam.

"You bitch!" Dean yelled and ran forward. The banshee turned and was about to unleash another piercing scream when the silver knife plunged into her heart and her breath caught in her throat.

Dean watched as the life left her eyes with a smirk on his face. He yanked the knife out of her chest and pushed her limp, falling body to the side. His eyes then cut to his kid brother, lying on the floor; blood trickling out of his ears, eyes, nose and mouth to form a pool around his head. He dropped to his knees next to him and cradled Sam's head in his lap.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice shaking with the fear of losing the only thing in the world that kept him sane. "C'mon kiddo, this isn't funny anymore."

Dean gasped when Sam's eyes opened to slits.

"Dean," Sam's voice was hoarse and there was a gurgling sound at the back of his throat - Dean thought it was probably blood. "Did we get it?"

"Yeah Sammy," Dean spoke, his voice cracking. "We got it. Now, we've just gotta get your heavy ass outta here and get you fixed up, okay?"

Sam nodded and moaned in pain, calming as Dean hushed him. "Okay, get me fixed. Okay."

Sam's breathing was becoming slow and weak - Dean knew he had barely any time left with his Sammy but he had yet to come to terms with it.

"M'sorry De." Sam said softly as his eyes slid closed and his chest stopped rising.

"Sam?" Dean tapped Sam's face, hoping to rouse him. "Don't leave me, please. I can't do this on my own. Sammy?"

No matter how hard Dean tried, Sam wasn't waking up. His kid brother, his one reason for carrying on with his unimportant, little life, was lying there in his arms, dead. Dean's Sammy was well and truly gone.

TBC

I'm a bitch, I know. But maybe leave a little review for me and I might make the rest of this story a bit more bearable.