Dean doesn't seem enthusiastic at all but Sam managed to talk him into going to Nebraska in order to see a "specialist." Of course, the faith healer that an old friend of their dad recommended to Sam is no ordinary doctor, but knowing Dean, he never would have agreed to go if he had known the truth. Strangely enough, considering their jobs, Dean isn't a believer.

Sam was tempted to hit the road to Falls City immediately but Dean looked so exhausted that he opted for leaving after a good night sleep.

Dean's watching TV, slouched in the armchair. Sam can't help but stare at him. He clearly lost a few pounds over the past couple of days and he looks so tiny, so fragile in Sam's sweatshirt that he could be 10 years younger. The pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes scare Sam. He's never seen his brother so sick before. So…close to death.

"You should stop staring or I'm gonna think you're having dirty thoughts."

Dean's tired voice rouses Sam from his thoughts. He clears his throat.

"Sorry, man. You just… You look like…"

"Like I'm dying? Nice observation."

The humor. Always the humor. Sam wonders if even on his death bed, Dean would still crack one last stupid joke. Probably.

Sam sighs.

"Okay, Dean, it's late. We should get to bed if we want to leave early tomorrow."

"What am I, 4?", Dean protests .

"You're exhausted and so am I. So stop acting like an actual 4 year-old and get into bed. Long day ahead of us."

Dean rolls his eyes and struggles to get up from the armchair. Sam is by his side in a second, holding his arms to help him stand up. Dean doesn't like it.

"Knock it off! I'm not a freaking cripple. I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure. Your heart's just ruined. No big deal. Stop whining and let me help."

Dean slaps Sam's hands away.

"I don't need you. I can handle myself to go to bed, thank you."

Sam sighs and watches Dean walk slowly towards his bed, his movements halting. He sits heavily on the mattress, looks at his boots and sighs. Sam watches him try to get rid of them and fail miserably. Dean's breathing is harsh already. He clings at his chest as in pain then kicks the floor with one foot, angry at himself.

"Fuck!"

Dean glances at Sam with embarrassed eyes.

"Sammy?", he asks shyly, ashamed of himself.

Sam joins him immediately and kneels in front of him.

"Told you, you could need my help."

He gently gets Dean rid of his shoes, then socks.

"I hate that stupid heart. I can't even undress by myself without it throwing a fit."

Sam sighs again.

"Look, I know you're frustrated and angry. I know that you feel helpless and useless. But you can't deal with all that on your own. You need me."

Dean doesn't answer. Won't look at Sam.

"Hey, Dean. Look at me." Dean reluctantly turns his eyes to Sam's. "You've been taking care of me since I was 6 months old, man. Let me take care of you for once. It's long overdue."

Dean doesn't speak but doesn't break eye contact either. Sam continues.

"We're gonna see that doctor and he's gonna fix you. I'm gonna fix you. I promise.

Sam presses Dean's hand with his own.

"Are we good?"

Dean takes a few seconds to answer but when he does, he doesn't sound angry anymore.

"Yeah. Yeah, we good."

Sam smiles to him.

"Perfect. Now, do you need anything before we go to sleep?"

"Actually, yes. But I don't think you'll accept the job," Dean answers with a smirk, his eyes dropping to his crotch. Sam follows his brother's gaze and jumps to his feet, his hands raised.

"Oh, Jesu-"

Dean laughs and Sam blinks rapidly to get rid of the disgusting picture that just popped in his mind.

"Okay, I think it's high time we called it a night."

Dean falls on his back, still laughing, and manages to crawl his way up to the pillows and under the covers. Sam takes his own shoes off, turns off the light and gets into his own bed.

"Goodnight, Samantha."

"Goodnight, pervert."

They both remain silent for a while before Dean speaks, almost in a whisper.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah."

"You do realize I'm gonna die one day, right? No matter what you do."

Sam stares at the ceiling for a few seconds then answers.

"Of course I do. But not like this. I'll tell you what, I only envision 2 options for you. First one, you die in a big explosion, with a smirk on your face as you take down 20 monsters with you, like the superhero you are. Second option, you die peacefully in your sleep after a happy end of life, as an old man who mixes up his grandchildren's names. But not now. Not like this."

At first, Sam thinks Dean won't answer anything. Then he does. In a whisper.

"If you say so, Sammy. If you say so."

xxx

Sam wakes up at dawn. He didn't sleep so well last night, probably too nervous about their upcoming visit to the faith healer. As for Dean, he's sound asleep. He's so still and his breathing is so low that he looks dead already. Before, Sam used to vigorously shake Dean's shoulder when he wanted to wake him up. But today, he's afraid to startle his brother and have his damaged heart race dangerously. Besides, Dean looks so young, so childlike that Sam can't even imagine acting like before around him. He comes to Dean's bed and slowly strokes his hair- doesn't care about the chick flick comment coming up- and gently shakes Dean's hand.

"Hey, Dean. Time to go. Wake up, dude."

It takes Sam a few more minutes to get Dean to open his eyes. The dark circles under them are larger than ever. He looks even more exhausted than the day before.

Dean rubs his eyes and yawns at Sam.

"You okay?"

"Peachy."

Dean tries one of his charming smiles but it ends up being far from the real deal.

"You want breakfast? I can go for coffee and takeout and be back in a jiff."

At the mention of food, Dean's pallor suddenly turns a weird shade of green. He gulps.

"I think I'll pass. Definitely not hungry."

Sam raises his eyebrows.

"Not even coffee? You need to at least drink something."

"No, I… I can't put anything inside me. Really," Dean answers. Dead serious.

Dean's answer and tone worry Sam and convince him not to waste another damn minute in this motel room.

"Fine. Let's hit the road then."

xxx

It takes them a while to get to and inside the car as Sam has to help Dean walk and sit in the passenger seat. Once sat, Dean's out of breath like he just ran a marathon. Sam can almost hear his brother's heart complaining. Dean tries to buckle his belt but can't even reach it behind him without having to cling at his chest like the tiniest movement sends an electric shock right to his heart. He keeps trying though. Sam takes Dean's hand and pulls it away.

"Let me."

Dean gives up with a desperate sigh and lets his brother buckles him up like he's 5 years old.

xxx

After five minutes of an awkward silence, Dean asks for some music. Sam gladly comply and picks a cassette at random. Black Sabbath. Good. As soon as the first notes blare inside the car, Dean smiles up to his ears. It makes Sam happy and sad at the same time. Even close to death, Dean never loses his smile.

They stop every hour so Dean can stretch his legs and lie down in the backseat for a while. Before, he could drive for 10 hours straight but now, he can't stay in a sitting position for too long without his back and every single muscle in his body killing him.

They still have a 1 hour drive to Falls City. Sam keep glancing at Dean who's staring at the road. The circles under his eyes dark, so dark… Dean's freckles stand out more than ever on his sickly pale face and it makes him looks so young that Sam's heart breaks a little every time he looks at him.

"Would you quit looking at me? I'm not a time bomb."

"Sorry."

Sam can't help but notice how weak Dean's voice is.

"You look exhausted, man. Why don't you take a nap?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Dean keeps staring at the road for a few seconds. Then he answers with a faint smile.

"Gotta make sure you don't mess my Baby up with your awful driving."

Sam rolls his eyes.

"You're an idiot. Just go to sleep, jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam smiles to himself. Dean wiggles on the seat to get more comfortable and lays his head on the headrest. He doesn't close his eyes for a long while though. Sam wonders what's so fascinating about the ceiling of the car.

"Sammy?"

His voice is but a whisper.

"What?"

…

"Nothing."

xxx

Half an hour later, Sam has stopped the music and mainly focus on the road ahead. It's been raining heavily for a while now and the drops falling on the windshield are quite loud. Sam still glances at Dean from time to time and just like in the motel room, he can't even hear or see him breathe. Dean's sleep is so deep that it's similar to a coma. Like if every sleep was one more foretaste of death. It's kind of scary. Sam steps on the gas.

xxx

It's the middle of the afternoon when they finally drive into the gravel field where the healing sessions take place. It's still raining and the Impala skids on the muddy ground. Sam can see the large white tent where many people, some in clutches, others in wheelchair, gather inside. The atmosphere is quite dull with the gray rainy sky and all the sick people walking around in the mud. Yet, Sam smiles. He feels hope growing inside his chest. Here, Dean's gonna be healed.

Sam turns to his still sound asleep brother and shakes him very gently.

"Okay, Dean, here we are."

Dean doesn't move a bit. Sam shakes him a bit harder.

"Hey, man, wake up. The next healing session is in 5 minutes. You don't wanna miss it."

Still no reaction from Dean. Sam's actually starting to worry. Those sleeps are getting way too deep. That's not… Sam's shaking is rough now.

"Come on, Dean, why-"

He stops suddenly. Heart racing. No.

"Dean?"

No. Sam puts two fingers on Dean's throat to feel his pulse. His eyes are full of panic now. He can't breathe. No. No,No,No,No. Please no.

"Dean!", Sam screams.

This can't be happening. Dean's gonna wake up, it's just a stupid trick from his exhausted, damaged heart. Sam's shaking his brother as hard as he can now. He keeps screaming his name. Keeps screaming please. But nothing happens. Dean's like a lifeless doll, his head now falling on his chest. The noise of the rain on the car the only answer to Sam's desperate pleas. Tears of panic and anger fill Sam's eyes.

"Don't you do this to me, you stupid jerk, we're right here next to the healer's tent! You just have to wake up! You're gonna get healed! You hear me? You're gonna get healed!", Sam's voice suddenly breaks in a sob. "You were gonna get healed…"

The tears are finally running down Sam's cheeks. The frustration and panic replaced by an unbearable pain. He can't breathe. With trembling arms, he brings his dead brother to his chest and sobs into his hair.

xxx

Sam doesn't know how long he stayed here, like this, with Dean cradled against him while he rocks him back and forth, calling his name over and over. Probably hours considering the sky is turning dark.

When Sam doesn't have tears left to shed and his throat can't stand any more harrowing sob, he finally lets go of his brother and lays him back against the passenger seat backrest. He stares at Dean's face with puffy eyes. Every ounce of life that was left in his big brother is now gone. Sam's hide his face in his hands. He has to do something. He can't spend days in here with his brother's dead body. But what is he supposed to do? He can't even think. Half of his soul just got ripped away from him. What is he supposed to do now?

Sam looks around him, completely lost. Night's coming and all the other cars are now gone. The healing sessions must be over for the day. And he messed everything up. He should have brought Dean here sooner. Driven faster. This is all his fault. A few extra tears fall from Sam's eyes right before he sees a man walking by the tent, holding a large black umbrella. Judging by his outfit, he must be the Reverent. The healer. He's followed by a small woman who must be his wife. An idea suddenly pops into Sam's mind. A last, desperate attempt to save his brother. Sam turns to Dean's body and gently strokes his face.

"I'll be back. Stay here," he whispers before jumping out of the car and running to the faith healer.

xxx

"Sir! Sir, please, wait!"

The man and the woman stop walking and turn to the erratic young man running to them in the rain.

"I'm sorry, the sessions are over for today. Come back tomorrow," the Reverent says kindly.

Sam's out of breath.

"No, you don't understand. It's an emergency. I've been here in my car with my brother for hours. He needed you to heal his damaged heart."

"Then why didn't you come to one of the sessions?", the woman asks suspiciously.

Sam gulps. Can't say it. Won't say it.

The Reverent and his wife wait for his answer, looking confused and wary.

"So?", the old man insists.

Sam takes a deep breath and tries his best not to sob the words out.

"Because my brother died before we could get to you."

The silence that follows hurts even more. The couple looks truly sorry and embarrassed.

"We're really sorry for you. But what do you expect from my husband now?", the woman asks politely.

"I want you to try and heal him anyway," Sam answers directly to the Reverent.

The latter offers him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, son, but I can't heal the dead."

"You don't know that. You can try!", Sam protests. "People get revived every day in the hospital after their hearts died. And that's only with science. You're a faith healer, you've got unexplainable powers. You can do it, I'm sure.

"I understand your pain and your faith but I can assure you I can't do anything for your brother. It's too late."

"But why?"

The old man sighs.

"I lost my daughter two years ago. A car accident. I spent hours next to her body, trying to save her, to get her back. It never worked. If I can't do it for my own daughter, I won't for your brother. I'm sorry. I can't heal the dead."

Sam felt the panic and the tears coming back.

"But it can't end like this! It just can't! I didn't say goodbye, I didn't-"

"I know it's hard, son. And I'm not saying you'll ever be okay. But you'll get better. Let this tragedy help you find your path. It did with me. I only used my abilities to heal my loved ones before I lost Emily. After that, I started the healing sessions for everybody in need. For want or anything better to heal my broken heart, I heal other people. God works in mysterious ways. Losing your brother may have you want to help other people."

Sam suddenly feels anger boiling inside him.

"I already help people! That's what my brother and I have been doing our entire lives! And that's what got him killed. So don't you preach God to me, Reverent. Because God is an asshole."

Angry and desperate, Sam turns around and walks quickly back to the car. Once sat in the driver's seat, he hits the steering wheel several times. His hands are trembling. He's soaking wet and the bottom of his jeans is muddy. Sam looks at Dean, switches on the ignition and drives off into the night.

xxx

Sam drives for hours, barely noticing the direction signs he passes by. He doesn't know where he is going, he just follows random roads, letting the Impala guide him. He has too many things to think about. Like what to do now. Next to him, Dean could be asleep. Except he's not. Not really. It's the kind of sleep you never wake up from.

At 1 in the morning, Sam stops the car on the side of a deserted road. They're not even in Nebraska anymore. He gets out and stands by the car. There's one important thing Sam has to do before anything else. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls his dad. Obviously, he ends up on the voicemail. The message he leaves John is bitter and reproachful. His son was dying and he didn't even bother calling them or, hell, showing up. And now Dean's dead and he never heard back from his own father. He could have tried to help but he didn't, cause he's a heartless bastard who doesn't give a shit about them. Because some demon is more important than his dying kid. His kid. And screw him. He doesn't deserve Dean's love and devotion. Never has. Sam will give Dean a proper funeral and doesn't he even consider calling now because Sam won't answer. Thank you for Dean. Then Sam throws his mobile phone far into the bushes alongside the road. With tears running down his face, he suddenly kneels on the ground and throws up. When the nausea finally stops, Sam walks back to the car, his legs trembling. He feels utterly lost and empty. He sits next to his dead brother and breaks into sobs. Big, irrepressible, hurtful sobs that wrecks his body. He feels like he'll never stop crying. Sam leans onto Dean's shoulder, grasps his arm and lets the flow of pain and tears overwhelm him.

It's 2 in the morning when Sam finally calms down. He sits back up and wipes his face with his shirt. He has to pull himself together. He has to be rational. Practical. He has to do something. Dean's been dead for hours. His body's muscles are already tense and soon he'll start to decay. The idea has Sam want to vomit again but he tries to stay focused. He has to give Dean the hunter funeral he deserves. He can't end up in hole. Sam wouldn't have the guts to put him in there anyway. No. Dean has to be cremated. That's what he wanted. Like the hunter he is. The very notion of cremating his own brother almost has Sam laugh. The whole situation is unreal. So unreal. He can almost hear Dean make a dozen stupid jokes about it.

Sam turns to his brother's body.

"Where shall we do this, Dean? Where do you want to go?…"

Of course, Sam's questions are followed by an awful silence. Until Dean's voice resonates in his head.

Where do you think, Sammy?

Sam smiles faintly. He knows. Of course, he knows. He opens the glove compartment in front of Dean and takes the roadmap out. He checks the approximate journey he took from Falls City. Apparently, he's not far from Holton, Kansas. Probably 60 miles away from Lawrence. Sam smiles again. Maybe he hasn't been driving aimlessly after all.

Sam hits the road again. After 10 minutes, he realizes that this is Dean's last ride in the Impala. His throat gets impossibly tight and he has to fight yet another flow of tears. Sam looks for a cassette. Dean deserved one last treat. He picks Dean's favorite Metallica song and plays it at full volume. And as Dean can't sing along anymore, he decides to do it for him. He would be damned if Dean and Baby's final ride together turned out to be a silent, dull one.

Sam stops the car a few miles from Lawrence. He can't come too close to the city. He drives the Impala up a narrow, muddy track that leads to a meadow surrounded by a small wood. Sam looks around. A night breeze makes the many flowers of the meadow dance. The moon is still high in the dark sky and casts its pale, melancholic light all over the landscape. It's beautiful. Peaceful. This is the place.

Sam turns off the ignition. He doesn't move for a good ten minutes. He's feeling strangely calm. He wishes he could stay here with Dean forever. But he can't. Sam inhales deeply and steps out of the car. The cool breeze on his face seems to be gently stroking him as an encouragement. You can do it, Sammy. You have to do it. Weirdly, the breeze sounds like Dean.

Sam opens the trunk and takes a gas can out. One of those they usually use to burn vengeful spirits' remains. He still can't believe he's going to do this. Sam gently rubs his hand on the Impala.

"I'm sorry, Baby. You're our best girl. Thank you for all these years."

Sam's heart clenches and once again, his eyes fill with tears as he opens all doors- except the passenger one- and sprays the seats with the stinky liquid. Once he's done, he walks really slowly to the last closed door. He stops a second, looks up at the sky with eyes full of big, unshed tears. Sam inhales deeply then opens the door. Dean seems so peaceful. So young. This is it. The tears now fall freely all over Sam's face. He puts the gas can down and kneels to Dean's height. His brother's head is tilted away from him.

"Hey, Dee. Here we are," Sam somehow managed to articulate.

He slowly moves Dean's tensed body so he can ace him.

"It's beautiful here. I hope you like it."

It's perfect, Sammy. Thank you.

Hearing Dean's voice, even in his head, is what have Sam really start sobbing. The lump in his throat makes it incredibly difficult to breathe properly and every time he tries to take a breath, Sam feels like a thousand pieces of glass are ripping him from the inside.

He gently strokes Dean's hair and cold face.

"I don't know what to say to you," he chokes. "There's too much to say. But I think you already know."

Sam's face is drenched with tears by now.

"We'll be together again. I promise."

Sam holds Dean tight against him for a whole minute, crying in the crook of his neck, whispering "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

Before he moves away, Sam presses a long kiss on his brother's cheek and whispers in a sob.

"I love you so much."

Sam has to gather up all his willpower to let go of Dean and stand back up. He lets out a few more sobs as he picks up the gas can and sprays Dean's body. This can't be happening.

Everything stinks of gas now. Sam doesn't think he'll ever be able to stand this smell again. He finally puts the can down. With trembling hands, he reaches for the glove compartment and takes Dean's phone. He's gonna need a phone later. Then, he digs into Dean's pocket and grasps his favorite Zippo lighter. After one last pressure on Dean's hand, Sam takes a few steps back. He glances at the silver lighter in his hand. How ironical, he thinks, that he should use Dean's lighter to do it.

Sam slides his thumb up the side of the Zippo which opens with a characteristic clic, then, he flicks the little wheel and watches the small flame dance in front of his tear-blinded eyes.

Sam's heart is beating so fast it hurts. So does every cell in his body. This is it.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobs. "I love you."

The lighter flies, falls directly at Dean's feet and the flames spread in a second. Sam runs far away from the car in order to be out of harm's way when the inevitable happens. He can barely breathe through his heart wrenching sobs.

It's 3:50 in the morning and Sam watches Dean's Baby burn with a heavy smoke and beautiful dancing flames. With Dean inside. And when the car finally explodes, Sam's pretty sure he can see the pieces of his own broken heart reach the night sky and join Dean among the stars.