The first time Sam Winchester said goodbye, he was too young to even understand what goodbye meant.

All he knew was the one his young mind had most associated with warmsafelaughterlovehappy was one day pinned to the ceiling above his head, consumed by hot and orange, and then inexplicably gone, taking it all with her.

Well, maybe not all.

There was still the small body that climbed into his bed at night, cuddled around him and whispered things like, "I'm here, Sammy, don't cry" and "I've got you, little brother."

And though life was never the same as it had been before, he knew in his limited understanding that everything was going to be okay.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

From that time on, it seemed to Sam that he never stopped saying goodbye. Whether it was to Dad as he left on another hunt or to Bobby or Pastor Jim when Dad decided it was time to move on, Sam felt like he was constantly looking back at the people left behind as the Impala pulled away.

And then, when he was old enough to go to school — finally! — he found that even friends didn't make the loneliness go away. It only took him until the first grade to stop even trying to make friends. He would gladly take any friendships offered to him, but ceased reaching out to the kids he knew he'd be leaving in a few weeks or months anyway.

When Dean asked him why he never asked to bring kids to the motel room anymore, Sam shrugged and told him he no longer wanted to. Dean's forehead had creased as he frowned, but he hadn't said anything else about it.

Then Sam overhead his brother asking if they could stop moving around so much and spend more time in the towns they visited. When John asked why, Dean had said he needed more help with his classes (what?) and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep up if they kept changing schools. Sam had huddled near the door, dumbfounded by Dean's words. Dean care about school? Or, more surprising, Dean need help? Sam knew his brother wasn't the smartest person in the world, but he was pretty close to it. Sam had never known Dean to need help with anything. His brother aced his tests, got grades that were better than passing and never did a lick of homework. The only reason Dean wasn't a straight-A student was because, Sam suspected, he spent most of his time flirting with girls and sleeping in class. Dean certainly didn't need any help and apparently Dad thought so too.

"Dean, if you need help with your school, then you need to spend more time on your homework instead of reading those comic books," he said. "And if you can't keep up with your classes, then you have no need to be in school anyway, y'hear?"

Sam heard Dean's quiet "yes sir" but didn't realize his brother was walking toward him until he came through the door.

Dean hesitated upon seeing Sam pressed against the wall, but just pushed the door closed behind him and climbed onto their bed. Sam sat in indecision for a second before pushing to his feet and walking over to the bed.

He fidgeted for a few seconds, trying to decide which of the numerous questions rolling around in his head he wanted to ask, but Dean, eyes closed, face smooth, spoke first.

"You're supposed to be sleeping, y'know."

Sam stared at his brother, but Dean's eyes stayed shut. Sighing quietly, he climbed into the large bed, sliding until he was a few inches from his brother.

The room was quiet, the only sounds being the clunking of the loose ceiling fan and the obscenities being yelled in their neighbor's room.

Then Dean huffed and opened his eyes, rolling over to face Sam.

"God, Sammy! I swear, you're the only person I know who can think louder than they breathe!"

Normally, Sam would have scowled and stuck his tongue out, but he was too confused by the conversation he'd overheard to do anything but blurt, "Dean, are you really gonna stop going to school?"

Dean's eyes widened and he stared at Sam in bewilderment.

"What? No. Where'd you get that idea?"

"Dad said that you couldn't go to school if you needed help and you told him that you wanted to go to school more 'cause you were having trouble in your classes-"

"Sam, that is so not what I said-"

"-and then I'd have to go to school without you and I can't go without you, Dean! I'd probably get lost and the teachers would kick me out-"

"Sam."

"-and you'd go hunting with dad and probably get hurt and then I'd-"

"Sam!"

He froze, chest heaving as he stared at Dean. Tears burned his eyes as he hyperventilated, heart pounding with panic.

Dean had sat up at some point and was now leaning over him, one hand pressed into Sam's chest as Dean stared at him in alarm.

"Calm down," he ordered and Sam did his best to obey, taking deep breaths through his nose and focusing on his brother.

Dean waited until his heart rate and breathing had returned to normal before speaking.

"Jeez, Sam, this is why you should go to bed when you're told instead of eavesdropping on me and Dad," he said, shaking his head. "Now listen up. First off, I don't want to go to school more."

"But-"

"I said listen, Sam," Dean said, scowling and waiting until Sam closed his mouth. "I don't want more school, but I'm not quitting, dude. I was just telling Dad that stuff so he would let us stay places longer."

Sam's pushed his eyebrows together.

"But, why, Dean?" he asked.

Dean shrugged and pulled his hand off Sam's chest, sliding under the blankets and folding his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"I just thought you'd be able to have more friends if we stayed around longer."

Sam sucked in a breath in surprise.

"How did you…"

Dean looked over and grinned.

"I'm the big brother, Sammy," he said, ruffling Sam's hair. "I'm supposed to know what my scrawny baby brother needs."

"So, you made up all that stuff, just so I could spend more time with other kids in school?"

Sam was amazed. He knew that Dean always took care of him, but had never expected Dean to lie to Dad for him. His brother worshipped their father and Sam couldn't even fathom what it had taken for Dean to make Dad think that he needed help in school, to fake a weakness for Sam's sake.

Dean shifted, probably embarrassed, Sam thought, before answering.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it, geekboy."

Sam nodded, keeping silent as he thought. After a few minutes, he bit his lip, trying to contain the words itching on his tongue. He knew that his brother was probably already asleep, but couldn't refrain from whispering, "Dean?"

Dean groaned.

"What, Sam?"

"I knew you were lying about needing help. You're too smart to need any help, everyone knows that."

Dean grinned and chuckled.

"Thanks, kid."

Sam scooted over until his arm brushed Dean's, trying to subtly snuggle closer.

"Dude, personal space."

"Dad knows you're too smart to need help, too," Sam whispered.

Dean was quiet for a moment before wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders so he could cuddle close.

"Night, Sammy," Dean whispered softly.

Sam relaxed in the shared warmth. No matter what happened, he knew that as long as he had Dean, everything would be okay.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The first time Sam left Dean without saying goodbye was the day he tore his soul in half and walked away to find his own life.

The echoes of the argument he had just had with his father and the pain those words had caused still throbbed in his gut as he grabbed a duffel from under his bed and began stuffing it with clothes.

Once the bag was full, he grabbed at the zipper to close it, but his hands were shaking too much to grasp it. He bowed his head and pushed his hands into the bag, fisting his clothes as he tried to hold on to his control.

"You don't have to go, y'know."

Dean's voice was quiet. When Sam looked over, he saw his brother leaning against the doorjamb, hands stuffed into his pockets, head down as he stared at his boots.

Sam swallowed hard.

"Yeah, well, I can't stay either."

Dean looked up and Sam's gut clenched at the pain in his gaze. This was never the way he wanted it to happen and everything he had ever feared. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to hurt Dean.

Turning away, Sam focused back on the bag, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and slid past Dean, striding to the door. His dad, he noticed bitterly, was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, man. Don't do this."

Sam paused with his hand on the knob.

"Don't go."

He gripped the cool metal and turned it, pulling the door open.

"Sammy, please… Don't leave us. Don't…"

Hot tears slid down his cheeks as he struggled to pull in air. Dean never pleaded, never asked for himself, and yet here he was, begging him not to leave.

And it was almost more than he could bear.

"I've got to, Dean. I can't do this anymore. I can't be this anymore."

"Sammy…"

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said, voice cracking, and left. Left before his resolve could fail. Left before his heart could change his mind.

I'm sorry.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After that, it seemed as if his entire life was goodbyes.

Goodbye, Jess.

Goodbye, Dad.

Goodbye, Maddie.

Goodbye, Ash, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Rufus, Adam, Sarah, Pamela, Kevin.

Goodbye, Dean.

Goodbye, Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean

And sometimes, when those names are the beat of his heart and he lies awake, unable to sleep from the guilt, he tells himself that there will be no more goodbyes. That he'll be enough to save and protect the ones he has left.

And that's when the dead echoes of Lucifer's laughter drift up from his soul.

Because he knows it's an empty hope.

And the clock's already ticking.