A/N: I added a warning but in case you didn't see new warning is 'character death'.

So I wrote this and really depressed myself. I'm sorry. I had the idea for the end and therefore had to build something around it, ergo: you got a three part fic.

I have a lovely idea for my next fic which I'll be writing in April, so please stick around, it'll be really cute and nothing like this, I promise.

Please let me know what you thought, it was hard to write this but I did it and I'm proud of myself for coming through this. Like I said, this was really hard to write for me. I love you.

A/N 2 – HOLYMOTHEROFGOD. Wtf has this website been doing. It's only just started working for me. I am so sorry, I've been trying everyday. Did everyone get that error message that kept coming up. I felt like crying EVERY time. I'm so sorry. You may want to reread parts ½ because it's been ages. I'M SORRY. I LOVE YOU.

One Hour Earlier

Dean doesn't remember climbing into his car and driving. He doesn't remember pulling up next to a forest and he definitely doesn't remember starting a fire that burned as high as the flames in hell. He did though. He did all that. Dean's brain shutdown the minute Pyro told him the truth, the truth he'd been so afraid of for four years. As Dean stood and watched half the forest burn, the branches cracking under the searing heat he raised his head towards the sky. It was filled with smoke but he could make out the stars above. The sparkling, happy stars he'd once shared with Sam. All those moments they sat on the Impala hood came flooding back to him. When they gazed at the stars, never speaking; never needing to, just being in each other presence filled the silence. Looking at them now, burning brightly with no idea what was going through the once so fearless boy, Dean couldn't stop himself. He screamed louder than ever before, pouring all his emotion into his voice. He felt his throat burning but took the pain gladly. He cursed the stars, the earth, God, the angels, demons, his mother and father but most importantly, himself. He couldn't help it; he'd spent the last four years wishing he could have had the guts to tell Sam not to say yes. If only he'd told him he wouldn't be able to do it, Sam would have argued more than ever but at least he'd still be alive. Dean continued to roar as a never ending flow of tears fell down his face, the flashes from the fire hardly affecting him, he could barely hear the noise anyway. He thought back to when hunting was easy; to when the hardest thing they had to deal with was picking a job. 'Saving people, hunting things. Family business'. Dean's mind screamed – the sound ricocheting off his skull and smashing against his brain. That was the Winchester motto, the one that kept them going and the phrase that stopped them giving into the life. But towards the end this motto was forgotten, how could they be expected to save other people when they had to save themselves so often. Hunts became the angels work, killing demon's was for their own gain and not for that of its person it possessed. Sure, they saved people still but they became so focused on how to stop the apocalypse that smaller jobs became less frequent. It just wasn't something they could do anymore without the fear of bringing a whole army of demons to a small town that was only affected by one witch. They'd figured together that after the apocalypse they could start again with the small jobs, go back to their old ways before life got too rough. But Sam had died to save the world and Dean was alone. After thinking this Dean calmed slightly, his throat burning from screaming and his lungs crying out for fresh oxygen that wasn't smoke infused. He moved slowly towards his car, opened the door and sat down. Starting the engine he glanced at the fire, parts of it were dying out where the trees were curling up from the heat they withstood. He didn't smile but a sense of pride took over him, he did this. He destroyed something that was beautiful. Without another thought he took off, driving back towards the town where he'd seen a motel earlier, he finally knew how to fix all this.

Now

Years from now hunters would tell the story of the Winchesters. They'd change it round and stories would get misinterpreted but one fact would always remain the same: Sam and Dean Winchester would do anything for each other. No matter the price or the immensity of it, they'd fight for each other till their deaths and it was this that made them what they were - brothers never to be parted.

In a shady motel in the middle of nowhere, in room 66 at the back of the complex, a shower was running. This, in itself, was normal, people took showers all the time. But this was different, this shower had been running for thirty minutes and showed no signs of stopping. In the shower sat a boy, the correct word should really be man – for he was in his late twenties. However, the man inside him was broken beyond repair and he'd resorted to a childhood past of his. Whenever things got tough Dean Winchester would turn the shower on and sit in it fully clothed. He'd let the shower drench his clothes and spray all over his face. It was a release for him; a way of shutting out the world for a while. This time was a little different though. For in the past he'd eventually shut off the water and step out, ready to face the world. Not this time. His eyes were closed and his head rolled slightly to the left, his shallow breathing all that was indicating he was still alive. He smiled gently, his last source of energy put into raising his cheeks, "I'm coming Sammy" he thought quietly as he let out his final breath. The water kept on hitting his body, the clearness mixing with the red liquid pouring from his arms and bouncing off the knife that lay softly in his left hand. Sam's knife.