"How long?" he wondered, "how long has it been?" Not a day had gone by when he did not think about his brother. "Seven years to date." He stared out the window, it was dusk, nevertheless the gloomy fog lingered outside from the storm would not have shown this. He turned away; the walls of the empty apartment were the only things that remained in his presence. He slowly slid down the side of one of the bare walls. He sat, the silence was deafening.

The Seventeenth of May. The day, seven years ago, his brother died in his arm. The day, seven years ago, he brought him back to life with a deal. It seemed like a simple solution at the time, however, Dean Winchester did not consider how reluctant Sam would be to the death of his older brother.

Many nights Dean found it hard to sleep. After Sam's disappearance, it was hard for him to be at ease. However, it was more complicated then a disappearance… yet not as simple as a runaway… and not as straightforward as a kidnapping for that matter. It was an invasion, an assault against Dean and everything he held close to him. He had lost his brother to evil, for the time being, it seemed as if the dark side had won. He could remember those final days with Sam clearly, unlike the fog that dithers out allowing the sun to once again penetrate through the grey; the concluding memories he had of his brother would be forever in reminiscence.

"I've tried so hard to find you a way out of this deal…" His brother started while sitting on the end of the hotel bed. Silent tears rolled down his face. He sat next to Sam, not sure of what to say, and they remained silent for some time, Sam staring at the floor and his brother kept glancing over in his direction.

Sam continue, "You shouldn't have made it in the first place… I was dead... I should have stayed dead! Remember when you said that? This was all a mistake! Why, why couldn't you have just let me go?" he concluded feebly.

"No! Sammy, how can you say that? After everything we've been through, can you honestly ask me why I had to save you, why I didn't let you die?"

"So… you brought me back to watch you die?"

Dean remembered the tension between them during this time. Arguments were not rare. They were all to use to them and on reflection he felt sorry for it. As time went on their, or so it had seemed, there disagreements were filled with sorrow and regret not anger towards the other. This was the last time Dean could recall actually talking to Sam. The last real memory he had of his little brother.

Once again, silence filled the room. Dean stood up and looked down at his little brother. There were times Dean swore he could not recognize him, times when he was afraid of the evil that was out there, and scared of what will happen to Sammy when he died. He couldn't understand why this all was happening. He wanted to scream, to let his let it be known that this wasn't fair, none of it was. Why did he have to leave his brother? Why was he being punished like this? He wanted to yell, he wanted someone else to know how it felt. The feeling of loosing a loved one, he knew Sam would soon be alone feeling the same way he felt when John made a deal for his soul. The existing feeling of soon leaving a loved one, that's how Dean felt all the time, he didn't want to leave Sam, not weak and vulnerable as he now appeared. "Why! Why was this happening to them?" he thought, yet silence prevailed.

That sense of injustice still loomed over Dean.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. Dean could tell that they both felt the same, living together off of one emotion: sorrow. Sam extended his body over the now vacant bed, in doing so, he turned on his side with his back facing Dean. "I'm sorry," he said once more. Dean could sense the tears rolling down his cheek from across the room.

Dean stared at him. He watched him breathing gently as he found himself doing more and more often. He turned to face the door and leave the motel. He walked across the parking lot steadily and sat in the Impala with the keys remaining in the ignition. He kept on hearing his brothers voice in his head… "I'm sorry" it echoed. Gripping the steering wheel but unable to go anywhere, he kept on listening to Sammy's voice. He suddenly realized the truth behind the washed out last words Sam had spoken…

It wasn't right; it wasn't a sorry for making the deal, or a sorry because of the mess he had caused… Neither of those Sam should be sorry for but Dean was accustomed to him apologizing like that. It was more of an "I'm sorry for what I am about to do."

Dean was correct.

He remembered racing across the parking lot and around the building; his feet barely touching the ground. He could still remember the sense of emptiness he felt when he reached their room; the door was already wide open. His brother was gone… He had given in after all they had fought for. He felt that feeling every day. Hollow. Everyone he has loved had left him. The loss around him was inevitable.

The quiet was broken by the lament of another. Tessie, Dean's ex-girlfriend, had given birth to a baby boy six months previous. She was gone soon after that, leaving him with yet another failed relationship and a son. Dean wiped off the tear that had trickled down to his chin and went to attend to Thomas.

What it sheer chance or destiny (how he hated that word!that his son was six months old that day? Bobby had assured him that the demonic world was keeping quiet and to themselves… The fact that they were maintaining a low profile concerned Dean more, but Bobby remained indifferent, nonetheless he was prepared. Dean had given up hunting the day Sam went away and relied on other hunters for any news of him. Like always, there was none.

After soothing Thomas, Dean went back to his room and shuffled through his belongings until he found a not. Dean unwrinkled the paper that was inside it.

Life is worth living. Don't give up on it and don't forget that. It's not your time… You're my big brother and love you for that, no matter what happens. Don't waste your time worrying about me. I want you to enjoy your life, don't cut it any shorter.

I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry for always being in the way, for dragging you down, and for all the things I have put you through. I'm sorry…

Sammy

Dean reread the lines carefully. He cringed, like always. Sam had no reason for being sorry, Dean sincerely regretted him thinking that. The dim lighting the room provided suddenly flickered. He had been waiting for this moment, anticipating it. A sudden rush of excitement filled him. Dean smirked. For the first time in years he felt alive.

He rushed to his son's room as quick as possible. A hooded man was already leaning over Thomas's crib. The mysterious figure glanced at Dean, his yellow eyes fierce. Dean scoffed and the man hidden behind his cloak looked up at the ceiling. A Devil's Trap, his plan was working!

Dean doused the intruder with holy water he had carefully hidden. The man fell to the floor gasping with pain; Dean then bound him to the chair. After removing Thomas from the room, hr approached the hidden figure. He knew who it was; it all made sense to him them; the evidence was incontrovertible.

Dean drew back the hood. "Sam!" He looked aged, the friendly grin he once had was replaced by a grimacing sneer. His eyes glowed yellow. As far as Dean was concerned, this was not his brother. He had replaced the Yellow Eyed Demon. "Seven years!" kept ringing in his head.

"Long time no see, eh big brother?" Sam said in a mocking voice.

"You're not my brother," he replied coldly. "You saved me, it's my turn to save you Sammy," he thought to himself. (How he had waited to be reunited with his brother!)

Dean pulled a small book from out of his jacket and just like that, the ritual began. Sam squirmed in his chair and cried out in agony, "You don't understand do you?" His voice boomed, "I didn't tell you this; I decided to keep it a secret after the previous Yellow Eyed Demon showed me, you'll never be able to exorcize me!"

Dean continued his reading and raised his voice in attempt to drown out who he believed to be a demon possessing Sam.

"You want to know why?" he continued, "Because I am Sam! While demon blood runs through my veins, I am still y-your b-brother." Sam's voice faded and the yellow glow in his eyes was extinguished. Dean was prepared for the demon to break out of Sam. "Any moment now," he thought, but instead Sam's next drooped down and instead of black smoke pouring from Sam's mouth, a ruby red substance slowly trickled out. Blood.

Dean hastily untied the ropes. He was wrong, Sam was not possessed, he was truly evil. That is, if you could consider Sam's sacrifice an act of evil. The reappearance of his brother had brother forth the mystery of why he was still living.

May seventeenth. "Today's the day," Dean thought to himself while lying down on the hotel bed, "I'm ready." Thought of Mary and John ran through his mine. However, he was not going to be reunited with his parents. His dad had, after-all, moved on after the gates of hell were temporarily broken. And that was where he was going. Hell. "His sacrifice was for nothing," Dean could not help thinking.

His breathing was getting shallower; he knew his time was coming to an end. His thoughts turned to his brother. "Where was Sam? Why did he disappear like that when he knew we had such short time left together? Maybe he couldn't take it… He had been searching for a way out of the deal for me for ages now; he spent many of his nights sleepless." Dean felt guilty; Sam shouldn't have worried like that for him.

More time elapsed, Dean's mind went blank and he breathed what he believed to be his last breath. He was now looking down at his lifeless figure. "So this is death," he tried to say but no words could escape. He wondered what was going to happen next. A cloaked figure walked in the room beside him. "It is not your time…" it whispered and it placed its cold hand upon Dean's head. Everything went numb. The blackness soon turned to white, however, and his lungs once again filled with air and his body was filled with life. He later discovered a note left for him on the table.

What seemed like a faded dream to Dean was actually Sam's solution to getting him out of the deal. Becoming the leader of the demonic army, his desperate last resort, but by doing so, Dean would live and that was all Sam wanted.

He was still breathing, but just barely. Dean lifted his limp brother out of the chair and placed him tentatively on the ground. Dean wanted so badly to go back to the way it was between him and Sam; back when they hunted for fun, before their days were troubled with fate and destiny. "I'm sorry," echoed throughout his throbbing head. What had he done?

"Dean," Sam whispered faintly.

"Sammy, don't talk, please. Just save your strength. I'm here, right beside you okay? And you, you're not going anywhere."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Sam tried to laugh but instead coughed up more blood. "I know the way I got you out of the deal… It wasn't what you wanted. I'm sorry." He paused a second, it was getting harder for him to breath. Dean knelt next to him with a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You have to let me go…."

"No! Sam… Sammy, stay with me! I've lost you for seven years, I can't do that again. Listen to me, okay, it's not your fault, none of it is… Don't try to apologize because you have nothing to be sorry for. None at all… understand? Hold on… please just hold on damn it!" Dean's heart ached. The thought of loosing his brother again was too much to bear.

"I love you," Sam managed to say weakly. His neck tilted to the side and all his muscles relaxed. He was gone.

Dean held his brother's lifeless body in his arms. He remembered the last time he had held him like that. The memory was unsettling. He wanted to make a deal, he wanted to take action. He couldn't loose his brother again, he couldn't.

He couldn't take his eyes off his brother. He had killed his brother. "Murder… I love you… seven years… I'm sorry," repeated a thundering voice in Dean's head. He wanted to end it. He wanted to end it all.

He didn't remember doing so. But the unawareness of what he was about to do didn't stop him. The cold metal touching the palm of his hand made him tremble.

"I'M SORRY!" Dean cried.

His voice shattered the stillness in the air he long could not break. The noise lasted longer then the explosion of the gun. It surpassed the exiting bullet. The echo of his final words prevailed over the sound of his body falling to the ground. The sound of a child crying in the distance would remain inaudible to the world in comparison to this final shout. The angry outburst faded into the quiet leaving two brothers laid next to one another. Only silence remained.