AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much! I'm very thrilled from your amazing support! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I haven't updated in a while, I'm so sorry, guys. Well, the thing is, there was some 'recent infraction' on my account. :/ stuuuupid.

CHAPTER 11

It's been one week now. Sam hasn't woken up from his state yet. Dean had been there beside him, sacrificing all his needs to look after his baby brother. He doesn't eat, mostly because he can't. He can't even think about food without feeling nauseous, because all his words and his actions towards his little brother had left him guiltier than any time in his whole life. He can barely sleep because all he could think of was if his brother's going to be fine, or if they're going to be fine. Would they ever be the same again? He wasn't stupid, he was aware of the fact that the words he said aren't something that can be forgotten. Especially if it was his own brother who'd say that to him.

He moved his hand that rested on his arm to his wrist and sighed heavily as he looked into his closed eyes. "Ya know...I never told you 'bout mom." He smiled. "She was beautiful. She had hazel eyes just like yours. She had so many things that you had. She was just like you sweet, caring, loving, always putting everyone above herself. She was... she was amazing." He said, a slight bit of sadness in his voice. "Every night, she'd sing 'Hey Jude' to us, and we'd be out like a light, and when I'd be sick, she'd make tomato rice soup. Man... she made the best pies... you always wondered why I loved pies... well, I guess that's why." He sighed.

A long stretch of silence ensued as Dean stared quietly at his still-unconcious little brother, until his face twisted into what looked like desperation and a sigh that he was about to break down as he replayed his own goddamned words in his mind. "Sammy, come on... wake up, for me." He whispered pleadingly while he tried to shut off the small voice in the deep back of his mind.

How could you?

How could you do this? How could you push him away like that? How could you act so careless and unloving towards your own brother? The same brother who had to make a difficult decision between saving your ass and killing his own dad while living with the pain and guilt for the rest of his life? And yet, he still chose you. How could you make that even worse for him by blaming him yourself? For not only dad's death but mom's, same as Jess'?

How could you?

Dean's own voice criticised him inside his head. And he knew he deserved all of it, but he knew he couldn't take any of it anymore. He needed to get away from it...all of it. His eyes moved from where he stared unfocusedly at his hand, which rested on his little brother's wrist, and looked straight into his closed eyes. He bit his lip and smoothed his bangs out of the way before he whispered. "I'll be right back, kiddo." He stood up and walked out, finding Bobby just about to walk inside the antiseptic smelling room.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Bobby asked, wondering where he's going since he's refused constantly to move from his brother's side. And now he's...going out.

"You just look after Sammy, I'll be right back." He told his surrogate father and before Bobby could say anything more, he took off hurriedly.

"Uh... alright, then." He said and walked inside the room as he shook his head and muttered something in a low, incoherent voice and sighed as he took a look at Sam. "Ah, kid." He paused his walking as he said before continuing towards him and pulled a chair beside him. "Dunno what your idjit brother's up to now... ya need ta' wake up before your stupid brother kills himself like this. That damn idjit doesn't eat, barely sleeps, never even leaves your side for a minute unless he needs ta' go toilet or somethin'. All he does is babble to ya 'bout everything...and by everything, I mean everything. From hot nurses, to his car, to your mother, to your childhood." He complained as he whooshed out an air of exasperation. He let a long silent minute pass before he continued talking as he stared sadly. "He's scared, thinking that ya stopped fighting. But I think that there's still a part of you in there that still kept goin'." He said and sighed heavily. "Ya can't leave im' like this, kid. Ya need ta' wake up."

Dean drove, uncaring about the reckless driving and the speed limits as he drove down the empty, deserted road. He needed someone to help him, he needed her to help him. He needed to get all this crap off his chest, although it's not his way of dealing, but it doesn't matter anymore, because this was the same excuse that made him scream at his baby brother angrily.

He had drove on for four hours. He risked a quick glance to his watch and the arrows pointed to 3:24pm.

He kept driving until his windows filled with views of graves of the passed away, or in short, dead people. He pulled his baby at the side of the road and sighed heavily as he looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. His eyes were colored with dark shadows around them from lack of a good, proper sleep. He looked a little thinner than usual from barely eating but otherwise, he was completely fine.

He pushed the door open and climbed out, staring at the golden sun that shone brightly on his face. He sighed and started walking slowly towards a grave, the warm wind blowing his clothes as it hit his face.

He fell to his knees in front of the grave that red out to him:

Mary Winchester

December 5, 1954 November 2, 1983

"Mom, I screwed up..." He whispered brokenly. "I didn't mean to... goddamnit!" He practically screamed out the last words as he let his face crumple. "Mom, help me please... I can't... I don't know what to do. I don't know if we'll ever be the same again... I want us to be the same, mom... mom, help me please." His voice cracked on the last word.

"I didn't know what to do... I was so... so angry, I just... everytime I saw him, I just... I saw red everywhere because I can't..." He breathed in a shaky breath and continued. "I can't not remember that damn colt in his hand. I can't not remember him pulling the trigger at dad." He said as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't care, he's lost... losing everyone he loves, and god... he's tired, sick and tired of it all.

"I didn't give a damn after he died...about anything...not even Sammy. I was so angry at everything, the Yellow-eyed demon, dad, life, this world...Sammy. Mom, I didn't know what to do, I just had to take it all out on something... I guess I just never thought it'd go that far." He bit his trembling bottom lip. "Mom, help me.."

His eyes widen slightly as the wind suddenly picked up and thickened as it blew over him. He looked around and stilled as he thought he heard a soft, soothing femine voice whisper in the air.

"I'm here, baby."