A/N short chapters, yes I know. It'll be this way until the story picks up. Hope you enjoy anyway :)
He was in pain, he felt it burning in his chest, but he kept going. Castiel was right; no demon would deal with him. He even went this witch in New York, begging for her to bring Dean back, but she just laughed and walked away. Everything he tried failed, and he lost hope.
Sam pulled the knife out of his pocket smoothly, practiced, and held it in his hand. The weight of it comforted him, consistently the same, never changing. He smiled slightly, running his hand over the blade. He remembered how Dean had hated using this at first, just because it was given to them by a demon. He saved the world with this knife, killed Dean with this knife.
Sam frowned, the pleasant memories gone, pushed out of his mind by the pained gasp Dean made when the knife cut through his skin. He watched as the demon sliced through Dean, cutting and cutting and cutting some more and he couldn't take it. He screamed for her to stop, to end it, to let them go. She had smiled, said something Sam couldn't hear, and stabbed Dean through the heart. The shock Sam felt was more to the fact that Dean looked relieved. He looked like he wanted this, like it was the only way.
After that the demon left, untying Sam and going about her business. Sam kneelt before Dean, wrapping his arms around him and whispering to him. Then Castiel came, brushing his fingers across Dean's face and saying something he didn't hear. Sam was angry, wanting his brother back, so he lashed out at Cas, told him to bring him back or leave. Castiel had refused, and he left. He left and he didn't come back.
It'd been months since then and Sam was still in pain. He could still hear every sound Dean made, every little whimper. He could still see Dean writhing in pain, and he couldn't stop it. He still had nightmares, still woke up screaming for Dean and Castiel and John and Jessica he wanted them back. He wanted to feel safe again, didn't want to be alone any more. He wanted the life before the apocalypse, before any of this happened. He hated this feeling inside him, anger and hatred and grief and sorrow. He wanted his life back. And he was going to get it, even if it killed him.
