Hello everyone! Welcome to my new story! I am very excited about this, especially because I really just want to try something new and get out of my comfort zone a little bit. And I am really interested in the ideas you all may bring to the table, because I am starting to get a little tired of writing about apocalypses and death, but I really just can't come up with anything else.

So here are the rules for One-shot submissions:

1. If you want to submit me an idea, just write it down in the reviews or PM me if you want.

2. Please set your ideas within the universe of the show. It can be before the show, during, after, just as long as it is in the Supernatural universe or its canon alternate-universes (though inter-universe travel may be considered).

3. NO SHIPPING PLEASE! I just don't want to write it.

4. Try to write your suggestions as full prompts. If you just give me a general idea, I may not know where to go from that. Other forms are accepted, though, such as the three word approach, such as 'Dusk. Impala. Blood.', or quotes from various media or the show itself.

5. Any subject matter is accepted. I'm sure you know I write about some really dark stuff, so I'm pretty open to whatever your twisted little minds can come up with. (Though, I would stray away from any overly-sexual stuff).

6. And please just remember that if I don't choose to write your prompt, it's entirely my fault for not being creative enough to come up with a story for it.

So, enough of that. Let's get into the story:

Warning: Mentions of suicide. Yes, we are starting off dark.

Sam isn't taking Charlie's death too well.

Chapter 1- Live and Let Die

It was a beautiful night. The sun was just disappearing behind the forested hills, leaving the sky dripping with splotches of blood red that faded into the deep star-speckled blue swallowing up the last remnants of day. The air was completely still, tainted with an early chill that left my breath hanging in the air and sent slight shivers down my spine despite the sweat that gathered on my forehead. The june bugs were singing off in the distance, calls echoing back and forth, dying off and starting again at an ever higher pitch. In the back of my mind I wondered why the june bugs were still out this late in the year, but the thought was muddled and clouded over quickly as I made my way down the drive.

Because the only thing I could think about as I carried Charlie's dead body to the car was how I wanted to kill myself.

You can fucking take care of her, Dean had spat at me with a quivering lip and shining eyes as he stomped out of the bathroom to search for any traces left of the Steins. I stood there for another ten minutes before I came to the conclusion that I needed to pay for dragging her into this mess in the first place. But it wasn't until I had finally hefted her limp body into my arms and had seen the full extent of her injuries did my gun start feeling heavy in my waistband. I was already going through the different techniques by the time I had managed to clumsily lay her across the back seat, head hanging lopsidedly over the seat cushion and blood smearing all over the upholstery.

I was frozen there with my hand on the open door until Dean stormed over and woke me from my daze of planning out the best way to atone for what I had done, for everything I had done because it had somehow taken me ten years to realize that I was poison to this Earth, that I was the cause of every problem we faced, and I had only ever made everything worse.

The path to hell is paved with good intentions.

It wasn't until Dean slammed his door that I realized I was going crazy.

Like surfacing from dark waters, I was immediately broken from from my trance with a start, a sick feeling churning in my stomach as I realized what I was doing. Taking a deep breath as I shook my head to rid myself of the thoughts, I quickly shuffled into the passenger's seat, remembering the one reason I had never gone through with the plans before. We had things to do. People to save. There was nothing ever changing that. The guilt of leaving my responsibility behind would always outweigh the remorse for my actions. No matter how bad it got, no matter how many people were lost along the way.

And Dean could never survive without me.

It had taken an hour to set up the funeral pier, an hour just to cut and gather the wood. Dean never spoke a word, never even looked me in the eye. I had stayed inside after we had arrived back at the bunker as Dean went at the trees with an axe like they had been the ones to carve out Charlie's insides. I was afraid he might have wanted to turn the axe on me, choosing to hide away instead of prompting the wrath of the Mark while he was wielding a sharp weapon.

I spent the time at the table in the library where Charlie had been placed until further notice, carefully cleaning the blood from her graying skin and wrapping her in a clean white bed sheet as she lay there, eyes closed in sleep like I had been deliriously convincing myself of through boughts tears and wracking sobs as I tried in vain to scrub her blood from my hands until my own fingers began to bleed.

I carried Charlie to the pier, wrapped tight in that sheet, cradled carefully in my arms, limp legs swaying with each step, head rolling on her shoulders. I was glad that I couldn't see her face as we settled her on top of the wood pile, because I wasn't sure if I could have just stood and watched as Dean struck several matches and tossed them onto the pier as if it were any other ritual burning. All the emotion had left his face. The tears that had shone in his eyes hours earlier were gone, the terrifying rage that had morphed his features when he had snatched up the axe and strode out across the yard had disappeared in favor of the completely blank expression on his face, his eyes holding an emptiness so deep that it scared me more than the barely withheld rage he harbored when he came upon the sight of Charlie's butchered body in that bathroom.

The flames devoured the wood, sending embers dancing up into the dark sky, shining like fiery stars among the thick smoke. I watched as the fire licked at her body, turning the white sheet brown and then black, smelling the burning flesh as we stood in the golden light of the snapping fire.

But then, after hours of silence and evading gazes, Dean, who was the only one who had ever stood by my side no matter what, who always gave me a reason to keep fighting, who was the only reason I was still alive today, turned to me, looked me straight in the eyes and hissed I think it should be you up there and not her.

And then he left.

And I just wish that he could have known the implications of his words because I finally broke and shot myself three hours later.

Okay, I wasn't planning to start off with that, but the chapter is was going to upload wasn't finished. But, hopefully, there won't be too many other chapters like this, unless you want that, of course. I don't know why you would, though. Also, sorry that this was a bit short. I wrote it when I was half asleep, and I didn't even remember doing it afterwards. That's been happening to me a lot actually. I keep waking up to find new files on my computer full of paragraphs of incoherent text I have to translate into a comprehensible story. . .maybe I need to get more sleep.

But please don't forget to review, and if you have an idea for a chapter I should right, make sure to contact me and tell me all about it.