It has been six months to the day, since Sammy died. Dean wrote into Sams old laptop. I tried to save you Sammy, I really did, but I don't think you want to be saved. Dean stared at the word document, and then deleted a few words. – but I know you didn't want to be saved. I just don't know what to do without you. Dean wrote, then deleted everything and closed the laptop, pushing it away from him gingerly. He then got up, and walked away. He wanted to write to him, and he had been trying to for months. That's what all of those websites told him to do… That it would help with the denial, that he would stop believing that Sam would walk around the corner, tell him, "Hey Dean, so get this…." And go on to tell him some crazy thing about the monster they were hunting, or just some geeky thing about some geeky thing.

Acceptance. He just needed to write a letter Sam would never read, to help him get over this. But the thing is, Dean had gotten over many deaths, and departures. His mother had died when he was four, his father when he was twenty- six. He a lot of good friends when he was twenty-seven, and a even greater number when he was twenty- eight. The person who really felt like his father died when he was thirty- three, and he had lost his best friend Cas a bunch of times… But for some reason, Sam and Cas always came back. He would always find a way to get his small little family back together.

But Cas left a year ago for heaven, and Dean knew he was never coming back. That was part of the deal. God would fix the earth, repair the natural order of things, Sam and Dean got to live out the rest of their lives, but Cas was to go back to heaven. Cas was not to see Dean until he was dead, and in heaven. When the Winchesters died, they died for good. No ifs, ands, or buts.

The apocalypse wouldn't happen for a couple hundred more years, when it was originally supposed to happen before the angels decided to speed it up, and God would begrudgingly take control again. They had actually found out that God was hiding right under their noses, it was Chuck. The prophet, the very last person on earth they thought it would be.

So Dean was alone now, and Sam made him promise to keep going on, to keep living, for him.

"Do it for both of us, you see. That way we can both be happy." Sam told Dean, smiling into his sobbing face.

"No, Sammy, We are gonna get you some help." Dean said, Carrying him out to the Impala, He didn't care how much blood was on the seats, or how fast he was going. He had to get his little brother to the hospital.

"No, Dean. You need to promise." Sam managed to get out.

"Okay, fine Sammy, but only because you are gonna get better." Dean said, tears streaming down his face, and going eighty down a forty- five street.

"Thank you Dean. And I don't want to see you here for a while." Sam, said and cracked the smallest smile, "I love you Dean." Sam told him, and closed his eyes.

"NO! DAMMIT!" Dean yelled, and hit the gas, not caring about traffic laws at all at this point, all that mattered was getting him to the hospital. The rest was a blur, forgotten, and stained with the tears of time, to be forgotten, and at that moment the denial began. He tried everything he could to get Sam back.

Dean stood with his back turned to the computer, refusing to write. If he didn't write it, it didn't happen, right? Sam would have told him to stop being childish, and that is just like when you were two, and you covered your eyes because "If I can't see you, you can't see me." Dean slowly turned around to face that computer, and walked up to the bunker table, pulled out the chair, and opened the laptop to see a blank word document staring at him.

He needed to accept it, so he would.

Dear Sammy,

It has been six months to the day, since you died. I tried to save you Sammy, I really did, but I know you didn't want to be saved. I just don't know what to do without you. It takes everything I have to put one foot in front of the other. I actually haven't really left the bunker for anything except to get food and beer. I need you back, but I know I will never get you, so I will learn to accept that you are gone. This is the first step I think. I just really miss you. I never got to tell you this, but I just wanted to say, goodbye, and I love you too.

Love, Dean.