If I were good at that sort of thing, I'd write some sweaty, steamy Dean/Cole sex scenes, which really wouldn't be a far stretch from what we were shown on screen. :)
Unfortunately though I'm a very boring person so my obligatory episode tag focuses on sad Sam instead. In some ways this is a companion piece to my story Seventeen, Thirty-One, Eighty, because I'm still very fond of Sam's true crime hobby, and still feel a lot more passionate about the last episode than about this one.
Oh, and the reference to Mickey is for the awesome caranfindel, who reminded me just how much I want him to return for every single gas-n-sip scene on the show.

Unbetaed, apologies for any mistakes.

Paradox

Even before Sam knew anything about the existence of Dad's storage lockers, he'd already organized his mind like them, one of the many little details that proved just how like his old man he'd been all along, without ever realizing it. He keeps his knowledge neatly arranged in shelves, in boxes, in lists; a system as efficient as a librarian's, and as rigid as a soldier's.

Life in the Men of Letters' bunker showed him that there's also a homier method of preserving the lore. But while he's slowly allowed himself to experience the place as a home and soak up the comfort and safety it provides, inside his skull everything remains bare, grey concrete and steel.

As could be expected, the largest part of his mind is taken up by everything he knows about monsters and how to kill them, and thanks to their hunts and the Men of Letters library that section just keeps growing. There are several dusty shelves at the far back containing information on everyday life, the boxes bearing labels such as How to make friends or What Jess likes, amassed mostly while he was at college and never really revisited since. One shelf to the side is devoted to the serial killer stats Sam loves to collect in his free time. Sam regularly pauses in front of it, because it also houses a box labelled: Mine. Said box contains a number of lists:

- The people I needed to kill
- The people I shouldn't have killed, but only realized later
- The people I shouldn't have killed and killed anyway
- The people who got killed because of me
- The people I couldn't save

Dividing all the bodies left in his wake into five different lists has helped Sam stay sane. He knows that Dean doesn't make any similar distinctions in his own head. For Dean it's never made any difference if he pulled the trigger or not – he blames himself with equal intensity. But Dean's always done guilt like nobody's business.

Sam doesn't feel guilty to about every single entry to his lists. For instance, there's Marshall Hall on the list The people who got killed because of me, and every time Sam comes across his name, he thinks with a defiant sort of relief: I'd do it again. On the other hand, another entry further down on that list references an event where Sam wasn't actively involved in any capacity, and yet his insides clench uncomfortably each time whenever he contemplates it: In order to talk Death into rescuing Sam's soul from Lucifer's cage, Dean was dead for seven long minutes, at the mercy of an incompetent team of doctors who almost failed to resuscitate him; a dumb, reckless move that still makes Sam want to punch his brother. And himself.

The third list mainly contains all those silent vessels of the demons and angels he's stabbed; and Sam acknowledges to himself that he doesn't feel nearly as bad about those as he should. Once upon a time he cared about saving them, always tried to exorcise instead of using the knife, but given how that ended in Lucifer's escape from his cage and the most serious rift between him and Dean to date, Sam's been a bit wary of seemingly idealistic solutions ever since. There's no moral high ground in hunting, no matter how much he might wish there was.

Some people's names have been pushed from one list to another. Such as Madison, poor sweet Madison. For a long time, she was on the first list, a monster that needed to be put down, but ever since Sam found out about Alphas and born wolves and how not all werewolves need to kill, he transferred her name to the second one, and it pains him just a little more to think of her now.

Sometimes a name has been scratched out, later added again. Sam's erased and rewritten Kevin's name several times; the thought that it was Metatron's order, Gadreel's action and Dean's betrayal leading him to cross it out, the nightmares of his hands on Kevin's forehead making him jot it down again.

Sometimes there's no name, only a date. It's not like you usually have time to conduct a field interview before knifing or shooting someone and running from the cops.

One name pops up more frequently than any other: Dean. One hundred forty-seven times in total, and every single mention hurts.

The one Tuesday that Sam carelessly killed Dean with his axe in an attempt to destroy the Mystery Spot made it on the third list.

Another Tuesday, one relatively early on, where Sam thought that maybe if they both died together they could break the time loop, went on the second list. Sam's never told Dean about that particular death, because he doesn't want hear Dean's stupid jokes about Thelma and Louise, and because he can still remember Dean's wide, frantic eyes when Sam raised the gun to his temple, refusing to believe that Sam was serious until the very last second.

There are two mentions of Dean on the fourth list, one for Dr. Robert, one for Walt and Roy.

Most of Dean's deaths, however, have been filed under The people I couldn't save, an endless list of Sam's failures to achieve what Dean has done for him so effortlessly, over and over.

The first list is the only one that dispenses with Dean's name, and no matter what happens, Sam doesn't think he'd ever be able to put him there, not Dean.

Leaning his head against the cool passenger window, watching the highway lines pass by and melt into nothingness, Sam debates on how to classify Kit's death. Did he need to be killed, or was he simply one of the poor bastards that Sam couldn't save? It would be easy to choose the first, to let Dean's words You know, you can do everything right, but even still, sometimes the guy still dies. convince him that he has nothing to blame himself for. But he can't stop thinking that if only he'd checked his knots, he wouldn't have been forced to shoot Kit afterwards.

A movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. He turns his head to see Dean shooting a worried frown at him before quickly averting his gaze to the road ahead. "There was nothing wrong with your knots, Sammy."

It feels so much like Dean comforting Sam after his first hunt when he was drenched in dust, blood and harsh criticism from Dad and hid away in the bathroom half the night, There was nothing wrong with your salt lines, Sammy, that Sam wants to laugh.

But he saw Dean's face after his confrontation with Cain, and he knows what he saw there, and that makes him want to cry instead. There's only one reason why Dean's suddenly back to his old self, teasing, cocky and firm, calmly working the job and being the protective big brother with a six sense for what's bothering Sam: He's already written himself off as the next entry to Sam's first list. There's nothing that says utter hopelessness and despair so clearly in Dean-speak as a sudden semblance of normality.

Staring at Dean's shadowed profile Sam wishes he had anything to say to that, but he doesn't.

They both know that they're driving down a dark one-way road of destiny with only one possible outcome: One of them will have to add the other to his victim count.

But here's the tragic paradox that makes Sam freeze and shrivel in his seat: No matter if Dean loses the fight to the Mark and copies Cain's first kill, or if Sam makes up his mind to stop his brother the way he should already have, maybe, when faced with demonic black eyes and a swinging hammer, Dean's name will once again end up on the list of people Sam couldn't save.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated.