*Dean stumbled into the motel room, not really feeling anything. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had lost everything and he had nothing left. But he did have a rope, a chair, and a sturdy ceiling fan.*

Dean woke to his phone ringing at 7am and groggily answered it, thinking 'this better be good.' "Yea -" he glanced at the caller ID, "Bobby, what's up? It's like 7 in the morning, this better be important." "Dean it's Sam. Something happened, get to the hospital quick. I'm so sorry." The older hunter's voice was raw with emotion. "Bobby slow down, what happened?" "There's no time son, just get here as soon as you can."

The line went dead and Dean raced to get dressed, grabbing his coat and keys before his shoes were even on. He jumped into the Impala and flew down the road, praying no cops were around. The hunter blamed himself. 'If I had just gone with him... Oh, Sammy! Please be OK.' He wouldn't be able to live with himself if Sam had been permanently injured or worse- No, he couldn't even think of the words "Sam" and "Dead" in the same sentence. Sam would be fine, just needed stitches or something.

But as Dean stopped to think about it, he realized Bobby would have just stitched him up if he couldn't do it himself. His whole body seemed to be weighed down physically by the fear, and guilt he felt. He sped into the hospital, tires screeching painfully as he parked as close to the entrance as possible. The hunter threw his car into park and raced to the hospital entrance, frantically searching the waiting room for Bobby. He spotted the man they considered to be their second father and walked briskly up to him, trying to steal his nerves for what he might hear.

"Bobby, what's going on, what happened to Sam?" The older hunter turned to face him and Dean saw tears in the man's eyes. He could count on two fingers how many times he had seen Bobby cry, and he had known him all his life. Bobby stood up and hugged Dean, biting back sobs. "Dean... There was an accident. Sam's hurt bad." "But he's gonna be OK, right? Right Bobby?" "I honestly don't know son."

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The doctor came out to see them and Bobby stood straight up, nearly running to him. "Is Sam alright?" At this point Dean had woken up from a light sleep and walked over to him as well. "Is my brother going to be OK?" "I assume you are Samuel Winchester's brother? Well, at the moment your brother is stable. I have to warn you though, he's not looking too good. We aren't sure if he's going to pull through. Would you like to see him now?"

"Yes. I need to see my brother." "Alright sir. Follow me." The doctor led the men through the hospital; passing room after room of sleeping patients. They finally stopped outside a room with the lights dimmed so that they could barely see inside. "Go on in, he's currently asleep." Bobby stopped at the doorway and turned around to the doctor; allowing the brothers a moment to themselves. He thought they might need it. "Thank you sir. I know you're doing your best for him." "I'll leave you alone with him then."

Dean sat in the chair next to Sam's bed, taking his brother's hand, and running his own thumb gently across it. "Hey Sammy, I'm here. You can do this little bro. Pull through, you can do this. Don't leave me Sam, I-" He got cut off as the machines began to alarm, alerting that Sam had flat-lined. Dean just sat there in shock, as Bobby ran out to call for a doctor. The nurse came in and ushered them out, Dean barely able to understand what was going on.

Dean took off at a dead sprint, racing back outside, and getting into the Impala. He threw the car into reverse, and backed out of the parking spot, switching it to drive, and flying out of the Hospital. He drove back to the motel the brothers were staying at and tore the room apart, throwing the nightstand and flipping over Sam's mattress. The hunter walked back outside, feeling the cool night air on his sweaty face and felt the emotion drain out of him.

Dean stumbled into the motel room, not really feeling anything. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had lost everything and he had nothing left. But he did have a rope in his bag, a chair in the room, and a sturdy-looking ceiling fan. He walked over to his bag and pulled out the rope, remembering how John had taught him to tie a noose even when he told his father he would never need it.

He pulled the chair over until it was sitting under the fan and stood up on it, tying the other end of the noose to the fan. Dean placed the noose around his neck, not bothering to write a note. Only Bobby would care, and he would know why he did it. But what Dean didn't know, was the doctors had stabilized Sam, and he had even woken up.

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Bobby tried calling Dean for the 5th time, pacing the room and praying he would answer. "Come on ya idjit, pick up your damn phone." The call went to voicemail, and he put his phone away, grabbing a pen and paper, and telling Sam to write the address of their motel, and the room number.

"I'll be right back Sam, I just need to make sure your brother isn't doing anything stupid." The hunter left and drove to the motel, banging on the door as loud as he could. "Dean, open the door son. Sam's OK. Dean?" When he heard no response he kicked the door in, dropping to his knees at the sight before him.

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Dean had prayed to his father, begging him for forgiveness, and he prepared himself for the inevitable pain. He took a final breath and tipped the chair, feeling the sudden pressure and agony engulf his throat. He flailed for just under a minute, before his body fell still and the life drained from him slowly.

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Bobby raced over and lifted Dean up halfway onto his shoulders, taking out his knife and cutting the rope. "Dean, no...C'mon kid, don't do this to me." He gently placed the young man on the ground and unwrapped the noose, noting the deep purple bruising surrounding his throat, and the red marks above and below the rope line. He had struggled at the last minute. The stale breath rushed from Dean's lungs, his chest falling still. The older hunter knew he was gone, but he couldn't believe the little boy he had basically raised, was dead.

He blamed himself even as he dialed 9-1-1 and began CPR on Dean. Bobby kept at it for over 20 minutes until the paramedics arrived and loaded him into the ambulance, heading back to the hospital they were just at less than a half hour before. Less than a half hour ago, his adoptive son was still breathing.

They got to the hospital and rushed him into a room, forcing Bobby to stay in the waiting room. A doctor came in and called his name a half hour later, with a grim look on his face. "Bobby Singer?" "Yes doctor, how is he?" "Sir... I'm afraid we tried everything we could, but he passed away. I'm so sorry for your loss." The hunter dropped to the ground and sobbed, feeling like it was all his fault.

He thought that if he had just kept a better eye on Sam, this would never have happened. But he had to be strong for Sam, so, he wiped his face and went his adoptive son's room. He needed to be the one to break the news to him, or he would just break. "Hey Sam?" "Yea Bobby? What's wrong?" "Um…" The hunter's voice cracked and Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Bobby...what did Dean do?"

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"Sam... I'm sorry. You flatlined and Dean thought you were dead." Tears began to stream down Bobby's face, and he left them there, not bothering to wipe them away. "Where is he, tell him I'm fine." Sam's voice broke, and he began to sob, not caring that Bobby was in the room with him. "Oh, Sam...he's gone. They tried everything, but I was too late. It's all my fault." The younger hunter looked up, making direct eye contact with Bobby.

"How? How did Dean die?" "Son I don't think now it the best-" "HOW BOBBY?! Please, just tell me what happened." "Alright... Dean hung himself in the motel room. By the time I got there, he was already gone. It's all my fault." Sam looked pale and Bobby stepped back a second before the Winchester was sick all over the floor.

Bobby stepped around the vomit and grabbed some tissues from a table by the bed, wiping Sam's forehead and mouth. He called to a nurse to get him a mop, so he could clean up the floor, but she insisted on cleaning, telling him he had already been through enough. When the floor was clean, Bobby pulled a chair back over and sat next to Sam as he recovered in the bed.

"It's OK son, we can get through this. He would have wanted us to move on." And with that said, Sam fell fast asleep in the bed, exhausted from his injuries. Bobby soon fell asleep next to the bed; dreaming of happier times. What no one saw, was an indent appear next to Sam as Dean laid down next to his brother one last time before moving on.

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