My Heart Forgot How To Beat

In saving me, you condemned me to a hell far worse than the fires that burn below.

Sam turned, his eyes brimming with a flame that burned him. The muscles in his arms contracted as he clenched and unclenched his fists unconsciously. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing came in fitful bursts; his bruised heart beat viciously against his chest.

"Say nothing." His words were barely audible; less than a whisper. He stared longingly into the eyes that were wide with anticipation, yet filled with concern and bewilderment. The last time Sam had looked into those eyes they had been blank, empty, dead.

"It's really him Sam. It's Dean." Bobby slowly edged away from Sam, cautious and ready for another attack; he wearily eyed the jagged knife that lay discarded and, for the moment, forgotten upon the floor. Sam only had eyes for the living corpse that stood before him, the man who he had witnessed being torn to shreds by invisible hounds, the man who he himself had buried; his flesh, his blood, his brother.

"Sammy-"

"No. Not a word." Sam had almost crumbled, almost fallen to his knees with joy and sorrow. That one word, that one stupid word, had triggered a surge of emotions that Sam had wanted to avoid feeling at all costs. The longing within him to reach out and touch his brother, to feel the warmth of his skin and bask in the brilliance of his smile, was overpowered by the rush of passionate anger that threatened to engulf him and swallow him whole.

He turned from the two men and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing, trying to soothe the frantic beating of his heart. He walked away.

Dean watched his brother walk a few steps and then rest his forehead against the wall, his back rising and falling, his breathing quickening. His heart slumped in his chest as he saw Sammy slowly break down. He racked his brain for words that would ease his brother's pain, but none came.

"Sammy?"

Silence.

"Sammy, hear me out ok? I can't even begin to understand what it must have been like for you here, without me." His voice shook. "I know what I put you through Sammy, but you gotta understand. I had to…I couldn't live without you Sammy I…" He closed his eyes and bit his quivering lip. "I am so sorry I –

"NO!" With a loud yell Sam smacked his fist into the wall, leaving an imprint of his fist dented into the plaster. His chest burned and his eyes shone with passion as he faced Dean again.

"You don't get to say you're sorry. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY THAT YOU'RE SORRY!" His voice failed him as his breathing grew ragged and came in short bursts. Dean rushed forwards to help him as he sank to the floor, but was pushed away with a force fuelled by a fiery rage that licked at Sam's soul with icy flames. Dean fell back against the opposite wall, breathing hard, his eyes filled with hurt and bewilderment.

"Sorry is not enough for the pain that you have made me feel; for the ache in the pit of my stomach that won't go away!" He struck his chest with passion and fury. "Sorry is not enough to erase the dreams where I watch you, night after night after cold and lonesome night, being ripped apart in front of my own eyes!" He leant against the wall for support, clenching his heart in his hand. "It was me who had to spend every day for a YEAR knowing that that you were going to…were gonna burn in…" His choked sobs filled the horrified silence that stifled the air around the three men.

Sam's heart throbbed beneath his fingertips. He could never express in words the shattering grief that had poured through him every day since Dean's death. How could he explain the way in which holding Dean's cold, lifeless and bloody body in his hands had scarred him forever. He couldn't; there wasn't a word for those feelings that hounded him. He couldn't explain the sense of loss that ate away at him day in and day out. He didn't know how to show them how much it hurt.

But now Dean was back! He was alive, his heart was beating again, and his eyes were full of life! So why was the pain still there?

He looked at his brother, who sat still, frozen; his face buried in his hands. The cause of his suffering sat before him, a broken man.

"You should be feeling what I'm feeling. The only reason you even went to hell is because you didn't want to feel what I'm feeling!"

"Sammy don't –

"NO! You should have left me dead! But instead you saved me - and gave up your own soul. And for what Dean? Why have I suffered these past few months, when it was all for nothing, when you were coming back!"

"Sammy I couldn't! Don't you understand I couldn't dot it?"

"So instead you place all the grief and sorrow upon MY shoulders!" Tears were streaming down Sam's contorted face. "Every heart beat hurts Dean, so much that I can't even breathe. I'm gasping in borrowed air! My heart should have stopped one year and four months ago, but you started it up again, because you couldn't bare the grief and the pain!"

Sammy could hardly bring himself to say his next words, knowing how much they would tear at his brother's soul. "But I found a way Dean. I found a way to bring you back from the deepest pits of hell, and now my time has finally come."

Dean couldn't, wouldn't believe his ears. He turned to a weeping Bobby, then back at his only brother, who he loved with all his heart, who he had died for. He could barely whisper the word "No," before Sam began to convulse erratically. His back arched and then dropped again, before he became still.

"NO NO NO NO NO!! Please Sammy PLEASE say you didn't PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!" Dean was screaming, his heart beating harshly against his rib cage, his throat constricted with fresh grief. He rushed over to his brother, who lay flat on his back, trickles of blood leaking like tears from his eyes. Sam looked up at Dean, silently begging for forgiveness and understanding. "Don't leave me Sammy; please don't leave me here alone." Dean sobbed and screamed and buried his face in his brother's chest.

And so it came to be that Dean knew the exact moment when Sam's heart fell silent and never beat again.