Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own anything.
I want to say some very very nice things about how awesome my gorgeous reviewers are but I'm saving that for the epilogue because frankly my dear I'm fucking exhausted. And my fingers are currently at war with my keyboard.
So. I left you guys on a cliffhanger, promptly forgot about you, and spent two months doing who knows what. Sorry. This is the end of the story though! So no more serious waiting. YEA! Also though… don't be mad. It's not pretty. At all. BUT I'M NOT APOLOGIZING.
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It was Sam. It had always been Sam. From the day he was born, Dean had known nothing else than the fact that Sam was his world and his whole life. Day in and day out, Dean loved Sam. He fed him his food when their dad was out and Sam was still too small to hold the spoon steadily. He had guided him though his first steps and his first words ("De" and "No" being the first of the first). Dean was the one who walked him to his first morning of school and trotted back with him after. He shared whatever money he could scrounge up with Sam and bought them chocolate. He held Sam's hand whenever he was hurting, and always tried his best to put him back together again. He smiled at his brother's achievements and laughed at the follies. And never once in his whole life did he wish he was doing anything different than being Sam's big brother.
So yeah, Sam was the sun to Dean's day, the beat to his heart, the happiness in his smile, and all of that other poetic shit Sam loved so goddamned much. Dean wanted to scream it out loud, to make Sam hear that Dean loved him, that Dean was there. But he couldn't.
Dean had lunged for his brother, tried to catch him before he fell with the wicked knife in his chest. But he couldn't do that right either, and Sam hit the ground with a loud thunk and his head with a sickening crack. Dean arrived seconds later, grabbing his younger sibling up into his lap. He felt numb, as though neither of them were really there. His brain refused what he was seeing. The blade in his brother's heart, buried to the hilt. The blood pouring from the horrific wound. And Sam's eyes, open and unseeing, watching the ceiling above him.
Sam was so still. He was never still. He was always bouncing on the walls, babbling on about school and books and even research, with Dean ever listening with a slight smile on his lips. Never before had Dean felt the still, dead weight of his brother in his lap, unseeing and not breathing. He wanted to forget the feeling.
"No." was all he could manage. "Nononono" as he brought his shaking fingers to his siblings neck for a pulse. He knew what he would find. He choked when he felt the absence of a pulse. Sam was dead. Sammy was gone. His baby brother was gone and Dean was alone. His whole world had come to a screeching stop the moment Sam had left it. Now he knew nothing except that there was a huge, gaping hole were the love that had been his life was missing. It was an odd feeling, not having a Sammy there, by his side to look out for. Dean was wrapped up in a shroud of pain and despair and misery in his head as he tried to process the fact that he no longer had his Sammy.
He glanced for a moment outside the storm in his mind and saw Sam laying in his lap. His mind blanked once another side of the horrific story occurred to him. He had no Sam. But Sam had no…. anything. Sam had died, probably for whatever reason thinking he was alone or unloved or whatever the evil thing had whispered to him. He had died virtually alone and cold and desperate whilst on the short journey to the basement floor.
Suddenly Dean knew nothing more than the fact that he was covered in red and Sam was dead and he was screaming. He heard his dad's urgent footsteps coming towards him and everything went black.
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The next day Dean awoke to an anguished father and a dead baby brother. His head was pounding as he stumbled past his tear-streaked father and found said brother's body laid out neatly on the kitchen table, salt and kerosene on the counter.
The next day Dean stood beside his father and watched his whole world burn away while he held the lighter in his hand.
The next day Dean decided he would rather die than leave his brother.
The next night John was burning yet another son.
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bum Bum BUM. So I know the ending was kinda written differently than the rest of the story. I'm just a huge procrastinator and really wanted to get out an ending for you guys tonight. And I am pretty dang pleased with it. And yes, I do seem to, for whatever reason, have a morbid fascination for suicidal Winchesters. Ah well, I think I can live with it ;)
ALSO, there WILL BE AN EPILOGE. Just too kinda wrap up some lose ends. Like what the hell Mary is. So that should be out in, like, at least 2 years. Again, so sorry for my very bad publishing schedule. I'm afraid it's only gonna get worse, however. My laptop belongs to the school and they keep them over the summer. They are taken away April 22nd….. this makes me sad. I have a home computer, however I share it with everyone and nobody really knows I write Soooo. Anyway. LOVE YOU GUYS!