Death of an angel
"Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present that I would put in front of you." –Dean Winchester
He was drunk most of the time, not even wanting to feel anymore. He would sway and stumble around without truly knowing where he was going. He knew it just made it worse. But it took away the pain and that was all he needed. Somehow, though, he still felt it; a deep physical and emotional pain that never went away, no matter how drunk he was or how hard he tried to forget. He could never get it out of his mind. It was forever scorched into his memory. He wouldn't ever forget him; ever. But that didn't mean that sometimes he didn't want to. He had never truly known loss; he had lived through it, sure, but none of it had been as bad as it was now.
/I can take rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me/
Some would say he was a wreck; a baby even. They would say he was weak. They would say he should just let go. Others would say he didn't feel pain; that he didn't know what it was like and never would. Pain. That's all he felt now. But he didn't really know what it was, not really. Not anymore. He'd known too much and learned to block it out. He just knew it was there and it hurt so damned much and it just needed to be gone. But this was entirely different. He felt everything like a stab to the chest. It was so painful it hurt to breathe, to even think. Because thinking made his mind go to Sam and Sam made the pain start all over again.
/I can take a few tears every now and then and just let them out
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while/
He was so wrong and so messed up that even Shakespeare, who wrote the most tragic plays known to man, was laughing at him. This was something he had never experienced. He thought he knew pain? No, there was no pain like having your heart ripped to pieces, shattered. There was no pain like losing the most important thing to you; the one thing you had left. And he knew what that felt like; he figured it all out on November 2nd, on the anniversary of their mothers horrific death.
/Even though going on with you gone still upsets me/
He didn't know what made it worse. The fact that this had been the same day their mother had been killed or that Sam had just died in his arms. The little jerk knew it was going to happen, too. And he just sat there, like this was how it was supposed to be. He had grasped his big brothers hand, told him he would say hi to mom and dad and that it was alright and wasn't his fault. He had told him how much he loved him and that he would never forget him. And then he had died. Dean didn't cry. Not when he was burying Sam. Not when he was at the funeral. Only when he got home and found the note did everything inside of him break into little tiny pieces so small that it would be impossible to find a way to put them back together again. He had found it on his pillow as he was sitting on his bed. He picked it up and found it had been addressed to him. He had instantly recognized Sam's messy scrawl. He had jumped to his feet with the note in his hand so fast that he had gotten dizzy. He paced the room, debating whether to open it. Finally, he did. He stopped right in the middle of the room, stood there, and opened the note.
/There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me/
Dean,
I don't really know how to say this. I don't even know what I'm going to say. I don't know what to say. But here goes. Dean….I had a vision. About you're death. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I didn't know how and I was afraid if I did…you'd do whatever you could to make sure I was alright. You would do whatever you could to make sure I didn't do something stupid to protect you. So I couldn't tell you. You wouldn't have let me help you. I guess if you're reading this it means that I didn't make it….but I saved you, right? I guess we both won and lost. I couldn't let you go, Dean. You're my big brother. You have always been there as my guardian and protector. But I don't know if you realize that it goes both ways. You may be older but I love you just as much as you love me. I couldn't let anything happen to you. So if you survived, that was alright. I was okay with that. You'd give your life for me; I don't doubt that. But I would for you too, Dean. You mean too much to let go.
Dean, you mean so much more to me than you could ever imagine. You've always been there for me, no matter what. You never let anything bad happen to me. You protected me. Don't you dare go thinking this is your fault. It was my choice. I knew it was going to happen. I couldn't let anything happen to you. It was a small price to pay. You're still alive and I'm happy. I will always be with you, Dean, may it be in spirit or not. You have done so much for me, and that is something I thank you so much for. You're my hero, Dean, and you always will be. You're strong and brave and righteous and you can get through this. I know it. You're so much stronger than I can or will ever be. You always managed to make me feel better, no matter what. You always took care of me. You never gave up on me, no matter how big of an ass I was being. I guess that's all that matters, right? Not giving up. And you were so good at that. You always will be. And I love that about you. You were always able to look at the Brightside; always able to push away everything else just to make me smile. You were so stubborn and never gave up and I envy and love that about you, because that is what will get you through this now. The Dean I know will never give up just because of a little complication. You are my pride and joy and you always will be.
I get a rare opportunity, Dean. I get to say goodbye. Not many get to, but I do. I guess that's what I'm saying now, Dean. Goodbye. And thank you. For everything you've done for me and everything you will do. You're my big brother, Dean, and that is so much more important than anything else. You, Dean, are the one and only thing that kept me going all those years; through the good and the bad. I will always love you, Dean. Forever. Don't you ever forget that. You can do anything. You're the big brother. You are my brother, my protector and my best friend. I love you. Goodbye, big brother, and let the angels be with you.
Love,
Sam
He saw tear marks on the paper and whether they were from him or Sam he would never know.
/What hurts the most
Was being so close/
He wasn't sure if he wanted to know but finally he couldn't stand it. The memories come rushing back in horrible flashes that he never wanted to relive. Ever. Seeing Sam being stabbed in the back. Rushing forward when it was far too late to save him. Much, much too late.
/And having so much to say
And watching you walk away/
He had tried, he really had. But he wasn't able to do it. He couldn't save his brother. After all Sam had done for him. How many times had Sam saved his life? How many times had Sam protected him no matter what? How many times had Sam tried to make him feel better even though he was breaking and falling apart? Had Dean ever done that? No. He couldn't even return the favor.
/And never knowing
What could have been/
He took a deep breath but it was no use. "No, no, no," He moaned. His thoughts drifted there already. He felt his knees go weak. He remembered Sam's blood on his hands. He remembered his baby brother squeezing his hand and smiling up at him with blood covered lips. He hadn't saved his brother. And 'Save Sammy' had been his life's motto ever since that damned fire. Ever since then, he had tried his best to protect Sam. And he had failed in so many ways.
/And not seeing that loving you
is what I was trying to do/
There were so many things he could have done differently. He doubted any one of them would work but he could have tried. He should have let Sam go when he first wanted to. He never should have dragged his brother back into this hell hole. And yet he had. All because he hadn't wanted to be alone. He wanted his brother. He needed his brother. And now, because of his need, Sam was dead. What did that tell him? How many times was he going to mess up before he finally learned?
/It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doing it/
He'd tried his best. He'd practically raised the kid. But his best wasn't good enough. His brother...the blood, the knife, him. His world was falling apart. He remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. There had been a big grin on Sams face as he saw Dean. And then Sam flinched slightly. Mere seconds before Jake appeared and stabbed him in the back. Because Sam had known. He had known he had saved Dean and he had known he was going to leave his big brother.
/It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and
I'm still alone
Still harder/
He was more alone than he had ever been in twenty six years. He thought losing Sam to college was the worst thing in the world. He was so far from wrong. The words I failed I failed I failed I'm sorry I failed please forgive me ran through his mind in a never ending cycle. Would Sam ever be able to forgive him? What would his father think? He would have hated him. Again. It was back. Sams face as his eyes slowly closed. He had known as soon as Sam had let go. He had felt Sam's heart stop against his own chest.
/Getting up, getting dressed, living with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved/
He was well and truly alone. He was scared. He didn't have anyone left. He was all on his own. And he hated it. He just wanted his brother back. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and cry and let everything out and just have his baby brother back. But he knew it was far too late for that. Far too late. He still remembered Sam squeezing his hand weakly and looking into his eyes with those big puppy dog eyes that held nothing but love and compassion.
/In my heart
That I left unspoken/
He still remembered Sam falling against his chest and murmuring in his ear one last "I love you" before his heart stopped. Dean collapsed to the floor. "But you we're my hero, Sammy," he whispered. He clutched the note tightly in one hand and curled into a ball and sobbed. He was alone. His brother was gone. What was there left for him? He sobbed and sobbed. He had nothing else. He couldn't go on. He didn't want to. All that was left was to cry and scream and beg for the misery to end. But he knew it wasn't that simple. It never was. All he thought was gone. His brother was gone. He sobbed like he never had in twenty six years. He sobbed for his baby brother. For his Sammy.
/What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do/