A/n: Alright, I would like warn you that things are about to get a little dark and pretty sad. Sorry it took so long to get this one up, I was torn between not posting it and posting.

As always, thank you thank you to LilyBolt for all your support and friendship (get ready for some feels) as well of course to miXiZ for all of your support and friendship and coaxing me to post this. Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers and to anyone who favorites anything of mine or me.

Please feel free to review.

REMINDER: Multiple character deaths.

Part 2

"Sammy?!" Dean called out once more. Nothing but war outside again. He slowly turned his head to look over his right shoulder, wincing and hissing in pain as he did so. Off towards the back of the wall slumpt over he could see a tall man. That had to be him, his Sammy senses were tingling. Dean began to drag his body towards him, using his left arm to pull himself in a half drag half army crawl. The way over hadn't been an easy one. The ground had been littered with bodies monster and human alike. Dean had realized then that a house full of warm snoring restless people had been a lot better than cold lifeless stiff bodies as he crawled and pushed his way pass them. He tried hard to focus on his main goal which had been to reach his brother rather than on the faces of the fallen around him. There had been one body however that he had recognized beyond all the rest of them. He stopped his crawl and stared down at it. His eyes grew wide with horror at first then began to water. He found that his lower lip was trying to tremble, but he gained control over himself again and pushed on passed the body. Finally Dean could properly make out the man hunched over, causing him to try and move faster. His heart felt as though it had stopped when he laid eyes on the man. He had been in just as bad of shape as Dean had been. His clothing were covered in blood, as were his face and hands the same as Dean. He didn't appear to have any visible broken bones though, at least nothing that stuck out or was twisted the wrong direction. His face was swollen and a large purple bruise was already starting to appear on the right side of his jaw. Dean grimaced as he tried to breathe a sigh of relief. He grabbed onto his brother's shirt with his good hand and shook him.

"Sam?! Sam!?Sammy?! Wake up!" The pain in his side intensified with every yell. The older brother pushed back the uncomfortable feeling and continue to shake Sam. He slid his hand up to his brother's neck checking for a pulse. Fear had kicked in now. He felt one alright, and it was going off like Sam had ran a marathon, but at least he was alive. Maybe it was just adrenaline coursing through him. Finally the older Winchester heard a distressed grunt escape his brother's lips and he started to shift. Dean's eyes lit up and he quickly returned to focus on Sam's awakening. "There you are," he smiled. His relief had been short lived as the younger Winchester jumped and made to get away from him.

"What?! Who's there?" He asked startled. Dean looked at him baffled.

"What? Sammy, it's me," he answered.

"Dean?" All of the sudden Sam exploded into a dry cough that echoed throughout the warehouse. He groaned in pain.

"Sam what is it? What hurts?"

"Dean?" Sam asked again. Still unsure what was wrong Dean looked over to meet his brother's eyes and noticed he still had them closed. Was he actually awake?

"Sam, open your eyes," Dean instructed gently. He watched as his brother struggled to complete the task. "Come on Sammy, you got this. Open up." Finally after a few more failed attempts, they opened. Dean's eyes grew wide. His brother's hazel eyes were glazed over with a white film, reminding him of the psychic Pamela who had lost her sight when she looked upon Castiel's true form. Dean's chest tightened. "Sammy?"

"Dean? W-Where are you?!" Sam began to cough violently, causing his whole body to shake.

"It's-it's ok Sammy," Dean coaxed trying to hide the fear in his voice. "It's ok, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Dean pulled himself with some difficulty so that he was right next to his brother. He gently wove the fingers of his dislocated arm through Sam's and gave a squeeze, biting back the pain that exploded through his arm. At first Sam had jumped at the unexpected gesture. He turned his face so that his glazed over hazel eyes met Dean's lamenting green ones. The eldest brother's stomach turned and Dean fought back the urge to empty his stomach. He quickly made himself busy by giving his brother another look over. That cough wasn't a good sign, he knew that.

"Sam, what hurts? Talk to me man." It was getting harder and harder for Dean to breath without pain erupting. He pushed it back.

"Back, shoulder, chest," Sam said. "Dean what's happening to me?" Dean flinched at Sam's tone. It was too much like the baby brother who would wake him up at two in the morning with a nightmare. It was pleading, begging Dean to make things better the way he always made things better.

"It's alright Sam, we're going to figure this out ok? Like we always do. I promise. What happened?"

"I-I don't know. There was a witch..I got her but uh, she blew something in my face..." Sam trailed off squirming slightly and gritting his teeth.

"I'm going to check out your chest ok?" He informed. Sam nodded. Still holding his brother's hand, Dean got to work examining him. His clothes had been bloody, but Sam's chest looked unharmed. Dean then moved to survey his side. His eyes grew wide and a lump formed in his throat. A puncture wound was still oozing with blood and it didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon. Sam took in deep ragged breaths. Dry coughs, puncture wound in the side, rapid pulse. Dean ran his eyes across Sam's complexion. It was definitely pale and it had a hint of blue creeping in. He had been so concerned with waking him up, making sure he was coherent, and that he didn't have a concussion, that Dean hadn't noticed the tint of color. Sure he had seen Sam was pale, but then he was sure he was a bit peaked looking himself. Both brothers had lost a lot of blood. They still were. Realization clouded Dean's face and he was grateful that his brother couldn't see. Dean cringed slightly as he heard Sam's breath quicken. "Hey Sammy! Hey!" Dean squeezed his brother's hand again.

"Where's Cas?"

Dean's gaze drifted across the floor until it stopped on the body he had found earlier. His dark brown hair looked black next to his now pale skin. His empty blue eyes were staring up towards the ceiling; a look of calm forever rested on his face. He hadn't been nearly as bloody as the Winchesters, but still his tan trench coat had splatters of crimson on it; the stab wound in his chest had long since stopped bleeding. Dean hadn't noticed it before, but just out of arms reach of him, there had been a bloodied angel blade. Salt burnt his eyes as he looked at the vessel that his best friend had occupied since the first time they meet years ago.

Dean tried to collect himself before he answered.

"We'll find him Sammy," he promised. He could practically feel Sam's heart pounding as he shifted again trying to ball up from the pain.

Dean threw his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Cas was gone, and he was busted up worse than a car driven by a drunk driving teenager. He couldn't even walk and there was no way he would be able to drive them both to a hospital, let alone out of the warehouse parking lot. There were no more sounds of guns going off, no more screams, just victorious malicious hoots and laughter. Dean's eyes flew open as he heard the unmistakable sound of metal against metal. A loud pounding echoed through the building and he could faintly hear a taunting voice calling out "little pigs little pigs let me in!"

"What's that?" Sam asked nervously. "What's going on?" Dean looked over at his little brother with defeat. This was never suppose to happen. Not to Sammy. Dean, sure, but never Sammy. He was the one that was suppose to live to the ripe old age of 110 with a wife, kids, and grandkids all gathered around his bed in the hospital saying their goodbyes. He was the one that was suppose to go in his sleep. Not in some warehouse surrounded by demons. Not like this. Dean swallowed the lump of emotion that clogged his throat.

"Don't worry about it, just relax," he soothed.

"I can't. I can't-Dean." Dean scooted over so that he was sitting right up against Sam. Gently he pulled his little brother towards him. Placing his hand on Sam's head, he gently lowered it to his good shoulder. His other hand was still intertwined with his sibling's. Dean could feel his brother's pulse thumping rapidly, his body shaking violently. Outside, the doors leading into the warehouse were still being worked on so that they could gain entrance. Cas had done a damn good job with it and if things had been different, Dean would have smirked. But now was not the time and he couldn't even bring himself to turn up the corner of his mouth.

"Shhh, it's alright," Dean whispered in response to his brother. "Just close your eyes Sammy. I'm here." Sam obeyed and allowed his eyes to shut. Ignoring his own pain and with strength Dean didn't really have, he closed his own eyes and began to sing. It was fractured and quiet, but it was loud and clear enough for Sam to hear him. Dean could feel his brother's body start to spasm against his. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better." Dean stopped trying to catch his breath which was growing heavier with every word, an unmistakable bitter metallic taste starting to grow stronger in the back of his mouth. "Hey Jude don't be afraid, you were made to, go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin, to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude refrain..."

Dean didn't look over at his little brother, he didn't have to. He had felt it. Heard it. There wasno more ragged breaths. No pounding. No more shakes or spasms. He was still. Dean's lower lip quivered as tears poured from his eyes. The distraught older brother didn't move from his position, he simply sat with his hand still pressed to his little brother's head, sobbing. He had only a few minutes to grieve before he heard the metal warehouse door finally give way and the sound of heels clicking on the concrete floor towards him.