The desperation in my brother's voice
set my every nerve ending on fire.
I felt my skin blaze with a wild fear.

This wasn't happening. Not again.

Dean screamed out my name one last time.
The sheer horror of realizing that
I could do nothing to save him broke me.

And, as much as I wanted to help him,
I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I just could not do it.

"What the hell is this?" Dean snapped, bringing me back to the present. I might have jumped, not that he noticed. He just dug violently through the paper bag I'd given him, searching for something, before shoving it back in my direction and seeming quite appalled.

He was unbelievable, I mean, after everything that had happened, you'd think he'd cut me some slack. But, no. Not Dean. He was still giving me crap—And over what? Gas station groceries? Really?

I channeled my breathing and calmed a bit before replying. "It's what you asked for..." I answered pretty confused, and straining for my manners. "Jerky, beer, and …lollypops?"

"That's funny. You knew exactly what I wanted, and yet you still screwed up. Are you trying to mess with me?"

"Mess with you?" I snorted so hard I was honestly surprised I hadn't blown out my eardrums. All I could do was shake my head at him "How the hell did I screw up? Look. Beer! Jerky! Lollypop!" I pulled each from the bag and held them up, but this time he just shook his head.

"That?" He laughed as though I was being absurd, "That is a lobster on a stick, Sam. Clearly 'Not' a lollypop!"

"It's 'candy.' On. A. Stick." I was floored. He couldn't be serious. He thought I was messing with him? No, he was the one messing with me, and so I scoffed. "Unless they changed the definition of a lollypop, you're an ass."

"Now you hurt my feelings." He said smugly before putting the car in gear.

Nothing else was said, and that was fine by me. I didn't want to talk to him anyway. I didn't even want to be in this car with him, but it wasn't like I had a choice. I knew he was just going to leave, and then I'd be stuck here with all this misery. I could hitchhike, sure, but I didn't care to move. I knew that with all the guilt I was feeling right now, had we parted ways, I would have probably just laid down somewhere and died.

"Can we just go?" I snapped, after noticing we hadn't moved at all. I didn't want to think about this anymore. I just wanted to go, and yet minutes had passed and we were still just sitting in the gas station parking lot. Was he really that upset over candy? Was he going to go in the store and get something else? I didn't care. I just wanted to go. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place, and I was relieved to think that was what Dean wanted too, until he missed the turn for the interstate.

I didn't think much about it at first—figured that he had some back-road shortcut that would get us wherever he was going faster. Lately he was favoring the scenic routes, anyway, and I was honestly so angry with him, I didn't care how we got there, just so long as we got there. But my stomach soon sank when I saw the hospital.

"What are you doing?" I asked slowly. Nervously. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't bring myself to. I didn't have the strength.

I wasn't sure if he'd lost his mind, or something, but this wasn't like him at all. This was "me" and something I would do—or, at least, something I would have done years ago. Maybe even a few months ago I would have come back here on my own guilt-ridden conscience, but not now. Something in me had broken, and this was the last place I wanted to be.

I didn't care for closure, because I knew there was none to be had. It was far too late to make amends, and I absolutely hated Dean for bringing me back here. I didn't know how he could come back; not after what had happened.

"Dean!" I snapped, desperate for his attention, but he just ignored me.

He pulled up to the visitor parking lot, jerked the car into park, and shut it off.

"I'm sorry." He said, staring out his window with an eerily distant look upon his face. "You were right. You said that this was going to happen, and you were right. I should have listened to you."

I snorted out an angry breath of air and wondered if he was seriously trying to make me feel better about this mess, or if he was just trying to clear his own conscience with that confession.

Up until this point, I was sure that I couldn't have felt worse, but now he chose to remind me that I had practically predicted this? Had he just listened to me, and had we left when I wanted to—the first two times—none of this would have happened. And while I had spared him the 'I told you so' speech a dozen times over, hearing the reverse from him only hurt me that much more.

Yes, Dean. I fucking told you so, but all the good it does now to simply "wish" you had listened to me two weeks ago. Now everything I feared would happen has happened, and there is nothing we can do about it.

Those were the thoughts I prayed he could somehow hear. I thought about saying them aloud, too, but deep down I knew this wasn't his fault. Not entirely. I mean, if anyone was to blame, it would technically be me. Hadn't all this been my fault?

"It's fine." I murmured under my breath. "What are we doing here?"

"I don't know…" He mumbled, "I tried to leave. It just… I need to know if she's going to be ok."

With that difficult confession, Dean hopped out of the car and slammed the door.

I closed my eyes.

In my heart I already knew that Kiers was dead. I just knew that much.

It had taken me all this time to get the image of her lifeless body out of my head. I had spent hours convincing myself that she'd just wake up, be fine, and go back to her life the way it was before we crashed it, but those were all lies—beautiful, selfish lies that kept me from facing the hardest truth. I killed her. She died because of me.

But that didn't make sense. She wasn't supposed to die.

In my vision, the one I'd had back in the cave, I clearly remembered her smiling. She was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, in that striped blue johnny, just smiling at me. Her long, dark hair framing her tired face in such a way that I had smiled back at her. We laughed together, and I knew everything was going to be ok.

Maybe there was still a chance?

I thought back to the night I had had that vision; we were trapped together and I lay dying in her arms. I remembered the embarrassed look she had on her face when she'd handed me two Midol capsules and a bottle of water. It made me smile and tear up at the same time.

"Take these." She had told me, "It's all I have for painkillers, but they'll do the trick."

I know that I'd been badly injured at the time, and I remembered the wild fear in her eyes when I tried to stand; falling over. I remembered her face, inches from mine as she caught me. Her cold fingers then slipping into the neck of my shirt. "You're going to be okay." She had told me, staring firmly into my eyes, and she had been right.

I was okay. Sort of.

Even with all the uncertainty around her, she somehow knew that things would turn out okay at least for me. I remember seeing the fervor in her eyes, and it was oddly calming. She, a woman I'd only seen twice in my life, made me feel so completely safe despite the horrific reality of the situation. In that very instant, I recall being so drawn to her that I had to kiss her. I saw in her eyes that she felt it too; at least until my vision interrupted, smashing the moment like fine china.

In barely a second, I had seen what I thought had been a glimpse of our future together. Her, exhausted in the hospital, me standing back thankful she was going to be okay. Everything "working out," and being "okay," just like she had promised, but that wasn't good enough for me. If she was in the hospital, that meant she could have died. If she had died, it would have been my fault. It was in that sole instant I made the decision to stop things before they started.

Instead of kissing her, I let my head fell to her shoulder as it seared with over-exaggerated pain.

If I had kissed her then, I knew she would have ended up like Jess, or Madison... Tragically deceased.

That vision of her in that hospital bed had been a somber reminder of what a death trap my life was. Even though my vision had been proof that she'd survived round one, I knew I couldn't let her in. I couldn't do that to her, so I pushed her away. To keep her there, I made some comment about the diamond on her finger. I believed her when she said the mystery ring wasn't one of engagement, and I hated seeing that panged look on her face as she tried convincing me she wasn't the two-timing cheat I'd implied her to be.

It was just the easiest out I could find.

I passed out shortly after that fight, because the next thing I knew Dean was throwing shoes at my head. When I came to and saw my escape, I grabbed Kiers and the rest is ancient history.

I know that I must have missed something, though, because she still threw herself on the sword for me. Even after I had pushed her away. According to Dean, she'd turned to save me. And I still remember the conversation I'd had with her before she'd given in to the darkness. I'll never forget that, because she'd done that for me too.

Why?