The smell of death permeated the small cabin. Ever since Bobby had left, the body had begun to decay. All Dean could do was stare down at the mattress, at his little brother. Sam looked so peaceful, but it tore Dean's heart to shreds to see him like this. He would kill the bastard who had stabbed his baby brother, he swore it. But, right now, all he wanted to do was drink.
He took another swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, "I let you down, Sammy. Just like I let everyone else down. It was my job to protect you and I- I messed it up." A single tear made its way down his cheek, "What am I supposed to do, Sammy?" He whispered, standing up, "What am I supposed to do?" He asked a little louder. The silence pressed in around him. The longer he looked at Sam, the more his failure hit him. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" He yelled, turning to the table next to him. In one easy movement, he flipped it, shattering all the bottles, empty and full, as they hit the ground. With a wild sob he fell to his knees and looked at his brother.
Sam was still. Dean would have given anything to see the rise and fall of his brother's chest again. Sammy had been so warm in life. He couldn't bear never holding that boy again. Slowly, he made his way to the mattress. He sat next to Sam, pretending to check on him like he used to when they were little. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Sam's forehead. He fought back the urge to recoil from his cold skin. Another tear slid from the end of his nose and hit Sammy's face. Sniffing, Dean wiped it away. He put a hand against Sammy's cheek, his thumb stroking slowly, trying to bring life back into him.
"You rest now, baby boy," Dean whispered, his voice cracking. Dean kissed Sam's cold lips gently, trying to recall the last time they had embraced. He didn't want to let go. He kissed a little harder, willing Sam to wake up and kiss him back. But nothing happened. Dean pulled away, the tears coming fast now. He laid his head on Sam's chest and wrapped him in his arms. Sam didn't have to fight anymore. Dean would protect him. He was safe now. Softly, Dean whispered to the dark, "Goodnight, Sammy."