Disclaimer: Supernatural, the Winchesters, and any other characters and/or places which may appear do not belong to me.

Whumptober 2020, Day #19

Prompt(s): Grief; mourning a loved one.

Author's Note: Alternate argument scene between Dean and Bobby in AHBL part 2. I think we can all agree that the underlying message from Dean when he was arguing with Bobby was that his world was already gone. When he said "let it end" I always got the vibe that he really did mean it because his world was Sam, which was now gone. So this is kind of just an AU scene where Dean voiced that reasoning.

Today's Whumpee: Dean Winchester

"Dean, I hate to bring this up, I really do, but don't you think it's time we bury Sam?"

"No." Dean's voice was cold.

"Well, we could maybe…" Bobby trailed off.

"What?" Dean bit out. "Torch his corpse? Not yet."

Bobby leaned forward on the chair. "I want you to come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean said, his tone stiff, unrelenting.

"Dean, please," Bobby begged.

"Why don't you cut me some slack?" Dean snapped.

"I just don't think you should've be alone, that's all," Bobby replied. "And I gotta admit, I could use your help."

Dean scoffed.

"Something big is going down," Bobby said. "End-of-the-world big."

"Then let it end!" Dean shouted, his voice echoing in the small house.

"You don't mean that," Bobby said after a moment.

"You don't think so?" Dean said, standing up so fast the chair he sitting on fell on its back. "You said the world is ending? Then let it end!" Dean repeated. "Because my world is already gone! My world is in there, laying on that bed. Sam was my purpose. Not hunting, not saving people, not 'the family business.' My world was him. Protecting him, making sure that he was happy, that he was safe." Dean's voice was cracking, tears filling his eyes. "Dad wasn't ever around, so I raised that kid. He was supposed to have a life! He was supposed to go to school, marry his girl, be safe and happy and have a normal life."

Dean could see tears in Bobby's eyes as he continued to speak.

"And now," his voice breaking over every other syllable. "Now, my world is taken from me when he was only twenty-three years old. He was a kid! He was my kid!" Dean choked out. "And — And I couldn't protect him."

Dean was looking anywhere but at Bobby now. Eventually, his eyes found the bed in the other room. The one Sammy was laying on, cold and pale, but calm… as though he might only be asleep.

Dean slowly walked towards the bed and crouched down next to it. His hands were shaking, tears were silently pouring down his face. He stared at the pale face he knew so well. The long hair Dean had always made fun of, the blue eyes that could always make girls smile, the face of the person who had been Dean's whole purpose. Ever since he was four years old, Sam had been his world. But now it was gone. So what was left?