What a night. You'd think after the amount of times Sam and Dean had died, he'd be used to it by now. But no, as Sam's life bled onto the dirt around him, he still found himself shocked, scared and needing his brother. But his brother wouldn't be here this time. They'd taken different hunts. Hadn't seen each other in weeks. Dean was miles away, the other end of the country. He knew this because he asked Bobby about him when he checked in earlier tonight, looking for some info on the hunt. Each time though, he never asked if Dean did the same for him. He was too scared of the answer.

Sam had been stupid on this hunt. He should've got back-up. He knew that. If Dean had been here, there would've been no problems. Not Dean's fault. His own. The damn poltergeist had turned up at the cemetery just as he was about to salt-and-burn the skeleton. Then, of course, it had got one of the broken metal fence pieces around the perimeter and fired it straight through Sam's chest. And fuck, if it didn't hurt. But he didn't feel anything much, anymore. Which is how he knew he was dying. Shock had come on.

The night really was a beautiful one. Honestly, beautiful. Like you couldn't even imagine. A warm breeze, the one that reminded Sam of the week off his dad had given Sam and Dean when he was 8. They spent the entire time running around in fields, play fighting, cooking barbecues and lazing around in fields of wheat, and watching the stars. Even so, Sam didn't think he'd ever seen them look as beautiful as they did tonight.

They sparkled far brighter than Sam's eyes would ever again. When Sam got a chance in his younger years (whenever they were at Bobby's), he'd sneak an astronomy book out onto the porch and learn all about how incredible the universe was, and how tiny humanity was in comparison. He felt tiny now, all alone in the middle of nowhere. But for a second, just for a second, he imagined that all those stars above him were the ones he loved. His family, his friends. Tonight, there'd be one more, and it'd shine harder than any other. If only to guide the remaining wayward son on his way. He mapped out constellations with his eyes, too exhausted to lift his arm and make the shapes out with Dean beside him listening good-naturedly like he used to. Or like that hunt they'd had in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The 'star' that guided people to their death. That one had been hard to explain.

It was quiet tonight. The only sounds around him were that breeze going through the grass like whispering souls - to be fair, he was in a graveyard; it wouldn't exactly be the weirdest thing they'd come across - and the laboured sounds of his own breathing. Funny how you take it for granted whilst it's free and easy, but lying and choking on your own blood as it flooded your even tiring lungs shows you just how much you're missing. He tasted the blood with distaste, and grimaced like he did whenever Dean spoon fed him medicine as a kid. Every time, he'd reassured him that this time it'd taste better, it wouldn't be so bad. He wished more than anything for his brother to be here reassuring him now. It was lonely dying on your own. So lonely.

Things were starting to dull, now. This hole inside him, nothing to do with the gaping wound slowly killing him, was all broken and deep, messed up after years of torment. Every time he got this way, this sad, he'd climb into Dean's bed and it would be better. Then he'd wake up, and Dean would be holding him tight, protective and caring. He wished he wasn't so proud - hadn't been so stubborn and just picked up the phone, instead of insisting he could handle hunting alone for a while. Now, though, his phone was broken, he couldn't call anyone, never mind the last voice he wanted to hear before he left forever.

His vision blurred, making all of the beautiful stars he saw with his glassy gaze swirl around him, like that Van Gogh painting. The blurriness helped him imagine his big brother was beside him now, lying next to him and chatting about something ridiculous. He smiled faintly - everything Dean said was ridiculous. He loved him for that. Now, he was far away from that graveyard, and he was on the hood of the impala, a rare treat, pulled out once a year for Sam's birthday. It was here that Dean had shared his wisdom. At age 16, it was to tell him some tricks to get girls. At 18, it was begging him to stay by his side because Sammy I can't, it's not Dad that keeps me going, please Sammy, I can't and even at Stanford, every year on his birthday, the rumble of the car would go past his building, watching over him, sending him unspoken advice and love.
And now, not even on his birthday:

'Hey Sammy, you scared?'

A little bit, yeah…

'Hey, don't be, man. We've faced hell and heaven and everything in-between together. You've fought ghosts and vampires and clowns, for god's sake. This is just another adventure, kiddo.'

You really think so, D?

'Yeah! Hey, have I ever been wrong about crap like this? Trust me, bro.' The deep vibration of Dean's chuckle was so close, so real to him now, as his vision blackened and the blood spread around him like angel wings.

'Hey, Sam? I got one piece of advice left for you. Let go. You're tired. I'm not around. Hell, Sammy, if anyone deserves to be at peace now, it's you. Ah, this is a great night, huh? Only thing that'd make it better'd be a beer…and maybe some pie. Makes you feel alive, right? So feel it, Sammy. Take it all in.I know you don't know how to let go, man. But try. I'm gonna be fine. You've given me so much. It's time for you to leave, kid. Every morning all you do is hold onto the what we hoped was right, that when all this is over - that when you're through, you'll wake up in heaven and hey, one day, I'll do the same and I'll find you and we can lie in those fields you're dreaming of forever. It's gonna be hard to see you go 'cause you mean everything to me. And I'm sorry I never told you earlier, Sammy. I love you. Go sleep. Let go, Sammy. Let go.'

Sam wasn't cold. His brother's arm was wrapped lazily around him, and everything was warm and right. His life really did flash before his eyes, and more than the pain, the fighting and the loss, was love. So much love. So now, he was with his brother, and he was tired. And he let go. At 3:17am on a beautiful night, Sam Winchester fell asleep.

…..

In some shitty motel somewhere on the west coast, Dean's sleep was interrupted. Not forcefully, not the kind that made him grab his gun underneath his pillow, but like a warm breeze was blowing through the room. He stretched and smiled; for once, he was alright with waking up. His tense shoulders relaxed like they hadn't since Sammy was around. He got up, looking at the time. 3:17am. Wandering over to the window, he pulled back the curtains and…stopped. What a goddamn gorgeous night. He shoved on a jacket and some boots (and took his gun) and headed out to the car, cos really, he couldn't miss this opportunity to forget all about demons and ghosts and life for a few minutes. His trusty baby was there by herself in the lot, black, and sleek and inviting. Sitting on the hood, he stared up at the night, and wondered. Beautiful. All of them. But from all Sammy had taught him about the stars and constellations, he didn't think he'd ever seen that one.

Huge and blinding, it shone every colour in the spectrum. Some Dean hadn't even imagined before. And around it, some of the stars seemed to gravitate towards it. The bigger one seemed to make the others shine just a little more than they would've without its presence. It looked like a family welcoming someone home, or something. Surely, this constellation had a name. Dean racked his brain for it but nope, he'd never even seen it before. So, like he had with the Jefferson Starships, he took it into his own hands. Once he spoke to his little brother, he'd find out its real name, but for now, he chose one of his own. The Winchester star.

It reflected in Dean's eyes like nothing before. He wondered if Sammy was looking at it, too. He wouldn't want to miss a moment like this.

What a night.