Part One.
Sam stood there, holding Dean's tattered body in his arms. Covered in his brother's blood as he tried to repair the damage done by the Hell Hounds on his body. Sam felt empty, numb, he'd known that his moment was coming for nearly a year now. They both had, ever since Dean had made the deal to bring his brother back. Sam had never given up hope that they could save him, he'd never stopped trying to find a way to break the deal. Even after Dean had told him breaking it would mean Sam's own death.
Slowly as he sat there, cradling the body, it dawned on Sam's exhausted mind that it was over finally. He checked Dean's pulse, the body was already growing cold. Anger hit Sam first, he paced the floor trying to control his sub human rage bubbling inside him. "Damn you Dean!" he exploded, "Why the hell did you have to make a deal for me! Why couldn't you have left me dead?" He pounded the body with his fists and feet, "Just because you couldn't cope with your own grief, now you throw it all on me. Expect me to be the better man, well fuck you! You selfish bastard!"
One last kick and Sam stared as Dean's lifeless body slumped onto its side. Sam sunk to his knees in tears, he didn't know how to live without his brother, how to carry on the fight all alone. Sam didn't know how long he had been there holding his brother's body, before Bobby came crashing into the room. He noticed vaguely that it was now pitch black outside and the moon was high.
"Oh balls!" Bobby exclaimed, coming over to check the boy's pulse and finding nothing but icy flesh. "Sam, it's time to go son, you don't need to be here okay?" he asked, "You need to get some sleep, while I clean up here and salt and burn the body."
Sam looked up at him distantly, half hearing what was said. Shock had hit him hard, he was shaking and shivering. Not just from sitting on the frozen floor for hours either. Bobby looped his arms up and under Sam's shoulders to slowly pull him upright, he'd forgotten how tall the boy was. Sam rested his head on Bobby's shoulder broken, he was the closest thing to family that the boy had left. "Oh Sam, Don't you get me crying too boy!"
Dazed Sam allowed Bobby to lead him back to the car, and get inside. "Now you stay here and rest Sammie, while I do what needs to be done." Bobby said, turning the heater up and covering Sam with a blanket to try and stave off any chill he might have caught.
As he turned to leave, Sam grabbed his arm. "Don't burn him." He whispered.
"Sam, you aren't thinking right, and I don't blame ya right now, but Dean needs to be at peace." Bobby answered gently.
"Bury him, don't burn him, please." Sam insisted.
"Why Sammie?"
"Cause he will need his body when I bring him back." Was the answer, barely a whisper.
Bobby tapped Sam's hand, "He won't thank you for that Sammie, no more then you are right now." He sighed looking into Sammie's puppy dog eyes, "Okay, I will bury him, now get some rest!"
Bobby gave the boy one last backward glance as he went to wash up the blood and take care of the body. "Dean, I could kick you sorry ass for this!" he said as he carried the body to the side of the road for the burial. "Can't you see what you've done to that kid? To me!" Bobby exclaimed, "It's gonna be all I can do to stop him taking the high jump after you!"
The old hunter grouched all through digging the grave, he bitched while he lined it with salt and silver, and he moaned all through covering Dean over again. When Bobby was done, he marked the grave with a simple wooden cross and tipped his whisky flask all over the grave. "I pray to whatever god is up there, that you stay dead this time Dean, and that your brother doesn't end up in a shallow grave next to you!" he drawled, heading back to take care of Sam.
Bobby drank and paced outside Sam's room back at his own place, for the next few days. Sam never left his room, apart from to use the bathroom. Never ate, barely drank water, just slept and slept. Now and then Bobby could hear crying coming out of the room. It tore his heart open to know the boy was suffering so much, so close by, without allowing him to help.
Angry Sam smashing things, he could cope with, leaving out cheap china to be broken. Even drunk out of his mind Sam, he could put to bed and take care of. Even if he went back on the demon blood, Bobby would understand. It would be something, not this emotionless, sleeping, non-existing wreck. Bobby was in agony inside himself, for both of his boys. He'd lost one, and now it felt like he was losing the other one as well. He drank himself to sleep every night, after Sam ignored him knocking on the door and trying to get him to eat.
Bobby sat at his desk trying to research demon deals, resurrection spells and anything that could safely help Sam in his task to bring Dean back, he couldn't concentrate on what he was doing. The words seemed to swim in front of the old man's eyes. The fifth of a bottle already inside him, and he was moving steadily towards a second was not helping his research in the slightest. But it helped to plug some of the raw pain bleeding in his heart. Bobby's head was nodding as Sam walked downstairs. His head snapped upright as he heard the noise. "Sssam, you okayyyyy?" he slurred, blinking to try and focus on the boy's face.
The boy was rumpled, clearly hadn't showered or combed his hair, and had pulled on whatever clothing had been nearly. "I'm going for a drive." He said softly.
"Sssammie, don't you do nothing sstupid, ya hear mee?" Bobby said struggling up from the chair, while trying not to fall on his ass.
"I will." Sam said in a dead voice, as he let himself out of the house.
"Damn it!" Bobby muttered, knowing in his current condition he couldn't stop the boy. "Dean I hope you can see what you are doing to that kid!" he exclaimed.
