Thank you all so much for your reviews! You inspired me to stay on the computer extra tonight to get out another chapter. I can't tell you how much it means to me to have people so into this story-I haven't felt this inspired in a while. Hope you like this chapter-there's more coming.

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All Dean knew was that he screamed, a loud guttural sound from deep inside where his heart used to be, a sound that turned all attention and cameras on him. He sprinted forward, ignoring guns and cops, dropping to his knees beside Sam's inert form. Dean's fingers lightly grazed the small hole that had taken his brother's life, and then collapsed over Sam, hugging his lifeless brother to his chest.

"Sammy," he sobbed, his breath catching in his chest so hard it hurt. "No, Sammy, no." Dean didn't notice the commotion around him, the arrests made, the robbers dragged out, not until the robber who had shot Sam was dragged past him.

Dean leapt up, slamming the man into the nearest wall. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed, pounding his fist into any part of the body he could reach, only stopping when the cop dragged him off and the man's face was an unrecognizable pile of bloody pulp. Still Dean fought to get at him, but the man was hauled into a cop car and Dean was left with the body of the person he had loved most in this world.

Kneeling again, Dean took Sam back into his arms, lightly ruffling his hair, sobbing so hard his cries became a hacking unstoppable cough threatening to rip his lungs out of his body. "Son, we need to take the body to the morgue," a cop said kindly, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"He can't leave me," Dean whispered, covering the hole in Sam's head with his finger.

"I'm truly sorry, but we have to take him now. It'll help us put away the guy who did this. You can come claim the body in a few days if you like."

At the word "body", Dean's body shuddered and he retched. Grabbing him, the cop steered him over to a garbage can, keeping a hand on Dean's shoulder as he heaved up the breakfast Sam had brought him that morning. By the time Dean was done, Sam's body had been taken away.

Dean couldn't bear to drive the car, couldn't bear to be in the same vehicle he and Sam had spent so much time in together. He tried playing Zepplin as loud as it would go, with the windows down and the speed inching higher and higher, but all he could think of was how Sam would tell him to turn it down and slow down.

When Dean got to the hotel, the first thing he saw was the bed Sam had slept in the night before. His screams echoing off the walls, Dean tipped the table next to the bed over, smashing the bedside lamp onto the floor. Smashes and shattering mixed with guttural screams as Dean made his way around the room, destroying everything that came into his vision.

When he had finished, Dean was surrounded by chaos, torn bedsheets mixed with shattered vases and ruptured paintings. It was then he noticed his gun lying under a split table, the gun he had never thought to bring this morning because what bad thing would ever happen at a bank, right?

Having grabbed the gun, Dean checked the ammo. It was fully loaded. He stared at it for a moment, then slowly raised it to his head. "I know you wouldn't approve Sammy," he said shakily, his eyes on the ceiling. "But we can argue about that in the afterlife, ok? Cause God knows I can't live here without you."

His finger on the trigger, Dean suddenly heard a frantic pounding from the closet. Glancing over, he saw a pair of horrified eyes staring at him through the small grate. The gun now lowered to point at the closet, Dean inched forward. Gun in one hand, he flung upon the door. Sam stared back at him.