Disclaimer: hang on a sec...nope still don't own 'em. LOL

i'm never gonna stop saying thankyou to everyone who reads my fic. Loada stuff hapened in my life and comp lost internet connection which sucks. Sorry this is really really late. :(

Chapter 7

Dean was fighting like he had never fought before. The men went down one by one, and the steady flow of people from the doorway stopped. The two people left fighting Dean went down with blows to the back of the head. His exhausted body stood there panting and heaving, desperately trying to get oxygen back into his lungs. There was a gash across his leg that was bleeding profusely, and there were other small gashes across his body. Dean slowly turned around, a smirk plastered on his face.

Also apparent on his face was a long deep cut that ran down the length of his face, from his temple, past his eyes, over his cheeks and finishing on his cheek bone. Tattered clothes hung limply from his body, and bare feet padded on the floor as Dean stumbled towards him. Sam could only watch, and the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him, and that was something any of the Winchesters liked to feel, yet felt it on one too many occasions.

He inspected the piles of bodies around him. "Not bad huh? You do realise this is the last time I save you're a-a-ass-s s-a-amm-." Dean's stuttering slowly came to a halt and both Sam and Dean's mouths widened in unison.

Time seemed to slow down for the brothers.

Complete and utter confusion were shining in his eyes. He just stared. Stared at his world, stared as his heart broke, as his soul was torn, and Sammy just stared back. His green eyes met stormy ones, and they both realised that this was the end. There would never be any more chick flick moments, no more Nair in the shampoo, no more Black Sabbath blaring through the speakers. There are some wounds that can never be healed by the bond that the brother's shared.

Yet something rose in Sam. The defiance that made him so different from the rest of his family. Forcing up his last reserves that he didn't think he possessed, he screamed the name of the one reliable thing in his entire life. All his pain, all his anguish and all his pure, raw grief that was too intense to keep inside were expressed in that one name. His big brothers name.

Bubbles of blood trickled from Dean's mouth, landing with an ominous drip……… drip……… drip onto the concrete floor. His once suggestive green eyes were slowly dimming, and the smile that he mischievously placed on his face for chicks, was replaced by an open-mouthed gape, unconsciously mirroring his brothers. At this point in time, he was an open book, and in his soul, all Sam saw was pain. Pain that his brother shouldn't have to feel. For his good deeds certainly weighed out the bad ones. That was all Sam could see, and although it killed him, in every single conflicting emotion that flashed across Dean's face, the pain was forever constant.

The eye contact was broken all too soon and Dean just pitched forward, the axe protruding out of his back which was matted with his blood, revealing behind him the face of his murderer. But there was no demon, just his father's face that was plastered with an evil smirk, forever taunting Sam, shattering his entire world.