Chapter Seven

Dean returned from his run feeling only slightly refreshed. He had gone without sleep for almost five days, but it wasn't just not sleeping; he had gone without sleep for days before: this was more; this restlessness was draining him, voiding his energy, emptying his soul. The cool night air temporarily revived him but once he entered back into the warmth of the house he felt a nagging drowsiness. He needed to sleep, yet he was afraid to close his eyes: afraid of what torment lay in wait for him. Sam met him as he entered the house.

"How about some coffee? I just put a pot on."

Coffee sounded good to Dean for an instant, before a change came over him.

"How am I supposed to get any sleep if you pump caffeine into me? I'm going to bed."

"Dad called. He said you were in danger. He said you needed to stay awake."

"What does Dad know about me? He doesn't even bother to be around." Dean shocked his brother with his abnormal response.

Sam knew this wasn't his brother speaking. Something was influencing him.

"Yeah, you're right. Dad's just being crazy again. Can you help me get something out of the spare room?"

"Yeah, sure. What ya need?"

Dean followed Sam down the stairs into the basement and was almost to the room when he suddenly stopped and reversed his course.

"Whoa, Sammy. I'm disappointed in you. You think I'm a fool?"

Dean turned and walked back up the stairs.

"I'm going to bed, I need some sleep."

Sam asked his brother to lock the front door and as Dean returned to check the door, Sam grabbed his wrist and snapped a handcuff on. He quickly snapped the other cuff over the radiator in the front room. He had improvised the best he could after Dad's plan failed. He looked around to see if any weapons were within Dean's reach and he thought they were clear on that point. His brother was furious with him and jerked at the cuffs.

"Sammy, what are ya doing? Let me go."

"Sorry, Dean. You're not yourself. I'm only trying to protect you."

"Protect me? You better think about protecting yourself, cause I'm going to thrash you if you don't let me go!"

Dean violently jerked on the cuffs. Sam worried he would break his own wrist with the force he was using. The anger in his eyes was terrifying. Sam felt his fury.

Several tense minutes later Dean calmed down and tried reasoning with his brother to release him, but Sam remained steadfast that Dean wasn't himself and he was only protecting his brother. The brothers stared at each other all night in an impasse.

Sam wasn't used to going long periods without sleep so, as the morning sun rose, he finally nodded off. Dean had been patiently waiting and he stood and pulled out the desk drawer. A quick rummage through the drawer produced a lone paper clip, lost in the bottom of the drawer. The lock on the handcuffs was no deterrent for him. Ten seconds and the lock was picked. How could his captor be so stupid as to think handcuffs could hold him?

He quietly walked over to his captor and snapped the handcuffs on him as he slept. Sam awoke abruptly but it was too late. His hands were cuffed behind him through the back of his chair.

"So sorry there kiddo, can't have you messing up my plans."

"Dean, please don't do this. Please, Dean let me help you."

"Help me? You don't even know me. I'm going to get some sleep."

"What do you mean I don't know you? You're my brother! Don't you know me? I'm Sammy, your brother!"

"Yeah, right, my brother. A little old for my brother, he's just a baby."

Sam knew they were in deep trouble. Why wasn't Dad here when they needed him? He was really worried about what Dean would do. Dean went upstairs, and Sam assumed he was going to bed.

The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die.

The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me.

He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live.

Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within.

Dean opened his eyes but instead of terror or panic, his eyes appeared resigned, a strange and disturbing calm settling in. He reached under his pillow and retrieved his Bowie knife. It was a wicked looking knife with a wide, sharp blade. He climbed out of bed and went downstairs. His captor was still handcuffed to the chair where he had left him.

Sam was alarmed when he saw Dean approaching with the Bowie knife. He remembered Dad's warning and he cursed himself for not being able to restrain his brother.

Dean seemed mesmerized by his knife as he twisted the blade and it glistened in the light. As he turned the knife, he glimpsed his reflection in the cold steel blade and he cringed. He couldn't stand to look at himself; all he had was contempt for the miserable failure he saw reflected there.

"Dean, put the knife down. Please! Wake up! You don't want to do this. Please don't do this to me."

"Do what to you? Why should you care?" Dean sounded detached, distant.

"I care cause you're my brother. I love you. Please don't do this." Sam begged.

Dean took the knife and placed the blade against his own throat; the slightest pressure caused red to run down his neck. The blade was sharp and neatly sliced the flesh. He took a certain satisfaction in the pain he felt as he eased the blade just slightly into his throat.

"Dean, please stop. Why are you hurting yourself? Wake up, this isn't you, you don't want to do this. Please, Dean! Why are you doing this?" Sam's voice was filled with desperation.

"Why? You want to know why? Because I'm a failure. I had a job to do. I had a responsibility and I failed. I was entrusted with my baby brother Sammy and I let him die. He died in my arms. Everyone I ever loved has died. Mom, Sammy. I don't want to be alone. I'm tired of being alone. Sammy is calling me. He wants me to join him."

"Dean you're not alone. I'm here. Sammy's here."

"Sammy's dead."

The cold, distant look in Dean's eyes and the certainty in his voice terrified Sam. How he wished his dad was here.

"Dean, you still have Dad. Dad's with you."

"Dad's not here. He's never here. He's always gone. I'm alone. I'm tired of being alone."

Dean pushed the blade deeper across his throat causing more blood to run down and saturate the neckline of his t-shirt.