It was a slow, quiet night for Dean Winchester, and he was tired from crying for the last couple hours. His best fr-no, his everything had left him. His whole world he could no longer see, and his eyes were blinded with clear tears. Sam had tried relentlessly to cheer the eldest Winchester up by bringing him small gifts and helping him do the things he wouldn't allow himself to do. Sammy had helped him to eat, to the point that Dean didn't care what kind of food entered his mouth. It all tasted bland and dry, and pie was no longer something he looked forward to eating. All he did was sit or lay on his bed, listening to music and/or drinking strong whiskey. Jody and Claire had visited him once, but Dean had locked the door to his room. He didn't want to see or hear anyone but Castiel anymore.
The song changed to an semi-old country tune, and he sighed, letting his depression wash over him like a tidal wave. Dean had lost all his love, his hope and his faith. He prayed everyday for someone to bring his world back, but he soon realized no one was listening, so he stopped.
"Dean? Hey, I'm gonna take Baby out to get some food...hope you don't mind." Sam spoke, grabbing the keys from the desk in his brother's room. Dean's green eyes were closed, entranced in the music he was listening to. Sam sighed, and shut the door, leaving his brother. He didn't realize how much of a mistake he'd just made.
Dean turned the music up when Sam left, letting the Brad Paisley song drone on. He then grabbed the knife from in a drawer beside his bed, and pulled up his jacket sleeve, exposing the damaged flesh on the inner part of his left arm. Dean had been cutting for the first time in his life, and man, it felt so good to him. Watching the blood run down his arm made him feel like the pain was releasing from his body a little at a time.
Glancing at the knife, his hand started to tremble. Dean coughed, blinking twice before getting control of himself. He brought down the blade on his forearm, this time cutting straight down instead of across. Dean allowed the blade to dig deeper than usual, blood pouring from the self-inflicted wound as he started to shake again. Small sobs made Dean feel weak as time slowed.
He felt no desire to live anymore after seeing his light die in front of him. Dean felt helpless, worthless. All of his hope and faith was gone, and so was his sense of humanity. All he wanted was to join Castiel in wherever he was. Heaven, hell, it didn't matter where he went, since that all reapers agreed to toss him into the Empty anyways.
Shaking, Dean let the knife clatter to the ground as he reached for a shotgun on the wall. He cocked it, feeling the familiar feeling of holding a gun. Dean knew he'd die with a gun in his hand, so who was he to change that? Dean quickly wrote his goodbye to his brother, and picked up the picture of him and Cas at a bar somewhere near the bunker. Clutching it tight, he stuck the barrel in his mouth.
"I'm coming Cas."
BANG!