Sammy?
Sam thought hard. It was crazy, but then again nothing he had experienced in the past something-Tuesdays had been remotely sane. Maybe, just maybe, the only way to jolt the two of them out of this cruel time loop was to do the unexpected, and that was to make THE WRONG BROTHER DIE. It was just asinine enough to work.
And so, taking a deep breath, Sam turned the gun on himself. Right before he could pull the trigger, though, Dean walked through the door. "Sammy?"
The look the brothers traded would have been absurd if one, well, wasn't training a gun on himself. And then Dean dove for his brother, attempting to wrestle the firearm from his grip. Sam squawked out a protest, tried to push Dean away, and in the scuffle the gun went off.
Dean promptly slumped over, blood pooling on the bed. Sam's mouth dropped open. "Dean?"