Title: Lay Your Weary Head to Rest

Chapter Title: Goodbye

Spoilers: Seasons 1-2

Warnings: Major character death, angst, language

Author's Note: Another old one-shot I thought I'd share. :) Hope you all like it and I'd love some reviews!


The cool air ripped through his hair, lifting the short brown strands off his neck. His green eyes were glazed with unshed tears and his body was trembling with his grief. He felt like his legs were going to fall out from underneath him and he stumbled over to the simple wooden cross that sat in the middle of the giant field.

No name was on the wood, but he knew who was buried there. He could feel him, his body rotting away, becoming dinner for worms and maggots. He didn't have the heart to salt and burn him. He wasn't another spirit they came across in their hunting. He was Sam Winchester: brother of Dean Winchester, son of Mary and John Winchester, hunter, fighter, friend. He went out fighting like he should, Dean knows this.

"But I want you here," he croaked. He was standing directly over Sam's grave, wishing he could see a marble stone with Sam's name across it instead of a crappy little cross made of wood that Bobby had laying around his house.

His knees buckled and fell out from under him. He landed on the hard ground, staring at the newly grown grass. One tear fell down his face, then another, but he quickly wiped them away. Showing his weakness, showing how much he cared for his brother, is something that he's always hated. People can always tell because of how much he'd do for Sam, give up his own life to save Sam.

"But I couldn't," he whispered. "Not this time."

His hands fisted in the grass and he wished it was the throat of Jake, or that damned demon. Both were dead, of course. He killed them. He made sure both were good and dead, they were the reasons that his brother was dead after all.

"Sammy," he whispered, his voice cracking. "What happened? Everything was going fine. Me and Bobby found you, you had knocked out Jake, we were going to kill the demon together…you were never supposed to die. You're supposed to be here, hunting, with me." He sniffed, standing up. "Fuck, Sam, why'd you leave, huh? We were supposed to survive, remember? Both of us. Then we were gonna stop hunting. Live as normal lives as we could get. Sammy, I kill the demon. The demon! It's all over. We finished Dad's job. We got revenge for Mom and Jessica." He stopped, shaking his head. "But you see," he muttered, "now I need revenge for the thing that killed you. But he's already dead and so is the thing that made him kill you. I don't feel like it's revenge. I can never avenge you."

He turned away, running a hand over his face, then up into his head. He can never get the revenge he wants for Sam. Jake's dead, as is Yellow Eyes, but he doesn't feel like he's got what he needed.

Maybe Bobby's got an idea…

He shook his head.

"I'll do it somehow, Sammy," he whispered. "If I have to kill every last evil son-of-a-bitch out there. I'll do it, Sam. I promise." He turned back to the cross. "If I could bring you back, I would. Dad always told me to protect you. And I couldn't." He sniffed. "So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to kill everything in my path. I promise, Sammy. They'll all die."

He laid his hand gently on the cross, before turning and stalking back to the Impala. He slammed the door and roared away from the meadow, his face set in a grim line, satisfaction curling into him.

Don't worry, Sammy. You rest now. I'll take over from here.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more.