They were satellites in their grief, orbiting each other's space, but never meeting, never speaking. Jo and Ellen were gone. Their collective failure hung over them like a shroud. Finally, Bobby couldn't handle it anymore. He kicked them out, told them to work it out, that he had enough to deal with being in a wheelchair without babysitting two whiny pissbabies. And the boys left because they didn't know how fix anything anymore.
The hotel room was quiet. Dean had gone out to get rip-roaring drunk and Sam had stayed behind, obsessively polishing a piece of a gun barrel. When Dean returned, Sam was still sitting there. Dean wasn't nearly as drunk as he had planned. Even though he had barely spoken five words to Sam since they had returned from their fight with Lucifer, he didn't want to be grieving alone. He sat on the bed opposite Sam and sighed deeply.
"Do you think it can be fixed?" Sam asked softly.
"What?" Dean laughed bitterly. "The world? The apocalypse?"
"No," Sam held out the piece of gun barrel, shining brightly in the lamplight. "This."
"I think the Colt has done all it can do, Sammy. We won't be fixing it this time," Dean said. He spoke up again at Sam's crestfallen look. "But the Colt isn't the answer. It didn't kill Lucifer. So we don't need to go on chasing that dead end. We'll find something else, another weapon, and we'll set this right."
"Wasn't for Lucifer," Sam muttered under his breath.
Dean almost dismissed it but there was a tone in Sam's voice that he recognized from a long time ago, from when Sam had found out the secret their dad had been keeping from him, from when he had begged his big brother to promise to take him out if it would save the world. And he reached out and grabbed Sam's jaw with near bruising force and looked into his little brother's eyes. "Who was it for?"
"Dean...I…" Sam stammered.
"Who. Was. It. For," Dean enunciated clearly.
"Well if we can't kill the devil, at least we can wreck his plans. He can't do anything without a vessel and it needs to be me. He brought me back when I tried to kill myself before. Maybe if I was killed by the Colt, I would stay dead," Sam admitted as he refused to look his brother in the eye.
"Sam...you…" Dean stopped to will back his emotion, whatever it was. "You killed yourself?"
"You told me to pick a hemisphere, Dean. You were gone. I didn't think you would ever forgive me. And Lucifer was in my head at every moment, telling me how much he needed me. Of course I killed myself. But I didn't stay gone. I was dead for maybe ten minutes before I woke up. He even cleaned up the blood spatter, the bullet hole in the wall. But no matter what I tried, I couldn't stay dead," Sam shouted.
"You...tried more than once?" Dean whispered.
"Dean…" Sam stopped. His brother was looking at him with rare vulnerability. "Dean, I've done so much bad. Even when I had the best intentions, I still destroyed everything. I thought it could be my final gift to the world, take myself out of the way so that a better person...so that you could save it."
"Let's get one thing clear," Dean said firmly. "The world will never be a better place with you gone. You may have made mistakes but you've always done your best to clean them up. The world dealt you a shitty hand but you have always gotten back up and made the best of it. And if you leave this world, I will not save it. I will burn it to the ground and then follow you. The world deserves two Winchesters, fighting side by side, or it gets none."
Sam put his hands over his face. His shoulders heaved once, twice. Dean grasped Sam's shoulder tightly. Then he knelt in front of Sam. He gently pulled Sam's hands away from his face. Sam couldn't meet his eyes. But Dean grasped Sam's chin again, gently this time.
"Listen to me," Dean said softly. "We'll figure this out and we'll do it together." And then he leaned up, getting in Sam's space, giving his little brother ample time to pull away or say no, and he pressed his lips firmly to Sam's. Sam jumped a little but stayed, his lips soft but unmoving. Dean moved to pull away but then Sam latched onto him like a drowning man, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Dean isn't sure if Sam lay down or Dean pushed him over but moments later, Sam was on his back and Dean was on top of him, kissing him with all the frenzy of someone who nearly lost their entire world.
Dean was the first to pull back. He looked down at his little brother, beautiful, a little dazed, lips swollen and red. "I need you," he whispered. "Will you stay with me?"
"Yes," Sam said before he dragged Dean back down into another kiss. "I promise."