I was a fool.

A stupid, naive, idiotic fool for ever getting my hopes up.

With the realization Kiers was still alive, I found myself anticipating some sort of a happy ending, but once I saw her… Her lifeless body. So still? Hooked to all those machines with their blinking red lights and their beeping sounds. Whatever hope I'd managed to find in the situation quickly dissipated, and I hated myself for thinking things were just going to magically work out.

I was stupid. Just stupid.

There I was, standing just outside her door, and though I tried, I couldn't bring myself any closer than that.

Dean and Mariah had both followed the ensemble of Kiers' aids into the room. Mariah stood closest to her bed, and Dean stood nearest to me, but I didn't dare enter. I didn't know what to say, or do, though there were many things I wanted to have the strength for. I was overwhelmed with feelings I couldn't even recognize.

A part of me yearned to be by her side—to sit down next to her and just cry. I wanted to thank her. Hold her hand. Maybe run my fingers through her soft, brown hair or rest my head against hers like we had done before, in the cave. I wanted to tell her it would all be ok, and I wanted to say that without a shade of doubt my mind. I also wanted to scream. Hit or kill something, just to feel some sort of release from all these excruciating emotions. The pain. Frustration and anger. Hatred. Disgust. Disappointment. Regret. They all grabbed me at once and it was suffocating. I felt completely paralyzed, and even with all the things I wanted to do fresh in mind, I just stood there. Like the coward I was.

I couldn't bring myself any closer. Not with what I knew. Not with what Meg had told me.

Stupid Dean.

He couldn't just leave. He had to make this real.

I would have preferred it if we had just left—walked out, moved on, and forget—like we always did, but Dean had to say goodbye this time. He had to bring me back and rob me of the peace of mind I've always had in pretending the lives we've upturned can somehow go back to normal.

I guess I can understand why he wanted to say goodbye—I mean, of all the things I was wishing I could do saying, goodbye was certainly one of them. Saying goodbye meant we could leave on a happy note- not this incredibly sour one. But Dean was just as big a fool as I was.

I felt the overpowering urge to punch something again. A wall, maybe, or a mirror. A mirror would be better. It would be almost like retribution; I could smash myself. I could watch my face shatter and fall. The blood dripping down the wall. That would be what I deserved, but where would I find a mirror? I could just punch the wall. Anything to rid my body of this tension.

I lowered my head, not having the energy to follow through with my blow.

Finally, wrestling past my own self-revulsion, I worked up the courage to speak.

"So, what are they saying?"

I was certain that I did not want to hear the answer, nor did I want to see the look in anyone's eyes as it was said. I didn't look at Dean. I didn't look at Mariah. I didn't look at anything but the floor. I didn't want either of them and their judging eyes on me. I didn't want to exist on the same planet as these people, or any people. I just wanted to die.

I heard Mariah laugh. Scoff, really. It was honestly the last reaction I would have expected from anyone in her shoes, and it was a scoff so vile I could only imagine it was directed at me. Was she mad at me? Did she know I was to blame? Did Dean tell her this was all my fault? That the monster that did this to her sister was after me the whole time?

No, he wouldn't have. But could she have known? Had Kiers known? God, I just wanted to scream these thoughts out of my head. I just wanted them gone.

I felt what could only have been Mariah's angry body storm past me in the doorway, and I wished I could have eaten my words. What a stupid question. Why did I even ask? Why did I even come in here? I felt my throat choking up and my body start to tremble. I let myself lean against the door frame for support, glancing briefly up at Dean. He didn't seem to notice. He just stared blankly at the nurses hooking Kiers up to more machines—the ones stationed in her room.

I couldn't tell you what the machines were, or what they were for, I just knew the stench of hospitals made me cringe. My insides felt crushed under an enormous pressure, that both hurt and chilled at the same time. As I struggled to breathe and get enough air in my lungs to ask just how bad it was, my brother spoke.

"Drugs." His soft, yet all too familiar sarcasm interrupted my thoughts.

I had to look up again to make sure he wasn't mocking me, but I could tell by the distance in his eyes that he wasn't.

"Drugs?" I questioned; my voice was weak. For the first time in hours my brain fell completely silent as I tried to figure out what 'drugs' could possibly have to do with anything. Not a thought popped in or out. My body felt empty, but not in a bad way. In a good, freeing way that didn't last long.

"Yeah, they don't know anything," he added. "Really."

He paused, leaving me only seconds to think about that comment.

"They can't find anything wrong, so they think she's drugged out. Od'ed on something."

I saw his head shake out of the corner of my eye as he mumbled, "idiots" under his breath. His mumble, however, was so loud one of the nurses stopped what she'd been doing to glare in his direction. I don't think he cared, though. He just kept his blank stare on Kiers.

I sighed when I had finally processed the update. I suppose I was mostly disappointed, yet slightly relieved by the news.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing was right, either, but nothing was wrong.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." Dean's head shook again, angrily this time. "And I know that it sucks, but it is not our fault."

I barely recognized his voice this time, or when he repeated himself. "You know that, right?"

He said it again as though he was trying to convince himself, or something.

"This is not our fault, Sammy. That heartache in there? That is exactly what we fight to prevent every day. We save lives."

Now I knew he was lying, I just wasn't sure if he was lying to himself, or lying to me. Nonetheless, I was furious at how could he stand there and preach about being heroes, when the only hero in sight was lying comatose in the bed just feet away from us.

The woman who'd died for me.

Now I wanted to punch him.

No.

It wasn't his fault.

It was mine. My fault.

Maybe he didn't know that. It would be good if he didn't. No one needed to know I had killed her. I wished that I could somehow not know.

Deans lips pressed together as though he had been tempted to say something else, but instead he just kept staring off into the distance. He stayed this way for a few minutes, until the expression in his eyes suddenly changed. From pity in Kiers' plight, to an alarming curiosity, they turned and looked me over, and as I stood there, self-loathing, he figured it all out.

He figured something out, anyway, because I heard him quietly say, "You knew."

The simplicity of whatever he'd uncovered almost made him laugh—as though he should have known better, or sooner. Yes, he should have somehow seen it before. There was also a soft and curious conviction in his words—as if he was still doubting the realization he'd come to. As I tried to figure out whether he was asking me a question, or making his final conclusion on the matter, I started to fear where this conversation would lead us.

I knew I couldn't handle it.

It was hard enough just knowing all this was my fault—but to admit it? To him? To say it out loud? For everyone to know?

"Knew what?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent. A part of me was, or at least was starting to believe that I was. That part of me had been dying since I got here. I was weak, and I couldn't handle taking on any more responsibility for this. Denial was far easier. Not caring was even easier.

"That…" Dean struggled as he thought aloud, "this would happen…That both of them… That she… Killing Meg would..."

The sound of that monster's name made my stomach turn, and for a split second I even felt my blood stop flowing. I hated Dean for mentioning her, but I knew he was just trying to make sense of things. And he was right.

I knew exactly what my brother meant to say. And, yes, it was true. I had known all along that killing Meg meant killing Kiersa, and that was why I'd been so hesitant. Even as my brother had pleaded with me, I did not have the guts to save him, because it meant killing her.

My body went numb.

"Yeah." I gulped, and I thought back to that exact moment.

"I knew."

The choice I had was simple, even with the world spinning around me. To smash the pendant and save my brother's live meant I would be killing Kiers, but if I waited just a few minutes longer? Could I have saved her? If I had let myself go and embraced the darkness, I could have saved Kiersa's life. I could have repaid her for the sacrifices she'd made for me.

Yes, I had known smashing the pendant meant the end for her, and I'd senselessly hoped that telling Dean would somehow make it easier on me. That maybe, if someone else knew, it wouldn't be so big a burden. Unfortunately, it wasn't any easier now that Dean knew. Secret or not, it didn't make the guilt or pain any less. In fact, I think it made it worse.

It made it real.

"I'm sorry, Sam. …I didn't know."

A part of me wondered if he was lying.

Thinking back, he had to have known, or at least suspected something. Did he really think I'd sit back and let him die if I could stop it? Shouldn't he have realized I'd been reluctant for some good reason—why was he just now figuring this out?

It didn't matter, though. It wasn't his fault, it was mine, and I knew that. I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes.

"I could have saved her," I admitted softly.

He shook his head, "No, Sam. We can still save her."

"No." I laughed sadly, and, for the first time, I looked at Kiers. I mean, I really, really looked at her. Tears filled my eyes as I tried to let loose this one last secret.

"I could have changed it. It should have been me."

The air around me seemed to grow dark, along with my brother's voice as he snapped.

"What!"

I took a breath. One weak and cowardly breath.

"It should have been me." I told him.

"Wha—No, Sam! No! ...NO!" Dean repeated, nervously agitated.

"Yeah." I shook my head, harder and harder the more I remembered, but not once—not even for a second—did I take my eyes off of Kiersa's lifeless body. Even as the tears burned my cheeks, I forced myself to look at her. Only because I was too much of a coward to face Dean with this admission.

"I had the chance to change it. All I had to do was open myself up. Let it in." I turned to my brother with closed eyes. I didn't have to see him to know he was furious with me.

"And you didn't. You fought it." Dean's voice was loud. Proud and angry. As if I'd done the right thing, but knowing the truth killed me.

"You did the right thing, Sam!"

"...I didn't fight it." My face cringed, and my eyes shut even tighter. I felt better, but weaker at the same time. "I didn't."

I inhaled deeply, bit my lip as hard I could taste blood. Then, fighting the urge to explode, I started shaking my head again as though it might help. "I couldn't." I sobbed, "I didn't want to, and I didn't. Dean, I wanted it to be me—I wished to hell it had been me, I still do."

"Don't say that!" He snapped, sounding angrier than ever. I didn't dare open my eyes, now, not even when his hand grabbed at my shoulder and shoved me, hard, into the door frame. "Don't you EVER say that! Sam, Look at me!"

But I couldn't. Salty blood was still fresh on my tongue; my eyes and teeth remained clenched. I swallowed and fought the weakness in my legs. Then I fought off the urge to punch him square in the face. I wanted to. My mind was screaming to. All that stopped me was knowing he was right.

Dying was one thing, but turning completely evil was something else. I knew it was wrong for me to have even considered it, but in the moment—and to save the person who'd done everything in her power to protect me—it had just seemed so right.

"It's the truth." I laughed, and for the first time I felt free. Shook my head again and opened my eyes. Not to look at Dean, but to look at her. Even as she lay there deathly still, she was beautiful, and it was her beauty that made it hardest of all.

I turned to my brother, with my eyes open this time so that he could see my pain. "This? All of it..?" I sighed, looking at her one last time, "This is because of me."

He shook his head with a soft smile. As though I was being silly.

"I know how you must feel." He started so sincerely that I had to laugh.

"Do you?" I was surprised by the tone of my voice. I was no longer ashamed, and he knew it.

"Do you really?"

The thought of him possibly knowing how I felt was absurd. Laughable.

"She is here, DYING, because of me; because she gave in. Not just once, but twice. TWICE, Dean. How the hell could you possibly know what that feels like?"

I gave up. I didn't want to yell at him. I didn't want to punch him anymore, either. I didn't want to look at him. I hated him. And of all the things he could have said, of all the words that would have made it better? He just stood there. Like dad would, only worse. I guess I was just waiting for him to worsen things. Half expecting him to crack a joke, or make some wise-ass remark. Or, better yet, another comment about all the "good" we do for people.

Had to give him credit for keeping his mouth shut, but I just needed someone to tell me it was all going to be okay. Like Kiers had done, only I needed HER to be okay. I just wanted her to be okay, but the sounds coming from inside the room were solemn reminders of the truth.

I closed my eyes again and let my head rest against the door.

When I opened them again, Dean was gone.