Sam opened his eyes to blinding sunlight. He squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Sam slowly sat up, head pounding, wondering what he had missed. The sun was setting to the left of him; how much time had he been unconscious?
Sam realised he was lying outside of a rundown cabin, in what seemed to be a forest. The Impala was parked further down the track; Sam remembered why he was there. His research had told him about a Book, kept deep in the pits of Hell that contained all of the secrets kept by the demons, and possibly a way of stopping Dean from going to Hell. Sam stood up quickly, his head spinning. Where the heck was Dean? The last thing Sam could remember was running after the demon that had the Book. After that it was all a bit fuzzy. Sam winced as he turned his head; his neck was sore and bruised. None of this explained what had happened to his brother. Cautiously, Sam made his way up to the front door. He did a quick sweep, to make sure there weren't any more demons lurking around, and slowly crept across the porch. He pressed his ear against the door to listen for any signs of Dean, and was surprised when it creaked open. He stuck his head inside, desperately searching for Dean, gun drawn. Sam gingerly stepped inside. He waited for his eyes to become accustomed to darkness inside the cabin and slowly made his way through the room, trying to avoid bumping into any of the dusty furniture in case he alerted anyone who could be waiting inside. Apart from the funk of sulphur, you couldn't even tell anyone had been there. Sam lowered his gun, and whispered into the darkness.
"Dean? You here?" No reply. Sam moved further into the cabin, until his foot hit something soft. Sam's heart lurched, and he crouched down to further investigate. From the feeling, he could tell it was a body. He moved it from side to side, trying to see if it was Dean. He hoped so hard it was just one of the demons, and Dean was out the back somewhere finishing off the other ones. But the body had slashes all over it, Sam could tell that much in the dim lighting, and seemed as though it had almost been torn apart. Sam looked harder, trying to make out the sharp features of his brothers face. But all he could make out was the bloody mess that was left. He felt around its neck, searching for the amulet he had given Dean one Christmas when they were younger. It was a grisly mess; Sam's hands were sticky with mess and gore. But then he felt it; a cold hard shiny charm on a rope. Tears filled Sam;'s eyes; he should have been here. He should have protected Dean, like he did for his younger brother. The guilt tore through him as sobs racked his body. It shouldn't have ended like this. They still had more than six months left together. Those last remaining moments were gone. Sam sobbed and held the remains of his protector's body until he fell asleep.