Chapter 6

Losing

The two brothers sat in silence on their respective beds one of them lost in his thoughts the other trying to escape his. Sam knew he had to do something he just didn't know what and the longer he left it the harder it became. Sitting up on his bed he turned to his brother who was absently flicking through channels on the TV paying little attention to their content before switching to the next.

"Dean?" he received no response. Sam got up and turned off the TV sitting on his brother's bed and facing the now irritated older man.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, Sam. We don't." Dean got up to switch the TV back on but was pushed back by Sam who then dropped his gaze nervously. He knew better than to push his brother when he was like this but he was getting desperate and he thought to hell with the risk of getting a smack in the mouth, because things really couldn't get any worse.

"Dean, I'm worried about you." Dean looked away feigning indifference.

"Dean please. Talk to me man."

"Talk to you? What would you like to talk about? You wanna talk about the fact that I killed someone? You wanna talk about that?"

"You didn't kill anyone Dean."

"Hm funny, I heard that the kid was in a coma and not expected to wake up. Sounds a lot like being dead to me."

"Come on, Dean, you shot her in the shoulder. Since when does that put someone into a coma?"

"Well I guess since about six hours ago."

"Dean, it was the Wraith. You know it and I know it."

"Yeah Sam, I got that. And why was it the Wraith, Sam? Why did the Wraith get to feed on her? Oh um let me think now. Oh yeah I remember, because I screwed up!"

"It wasn't your fault." Sam was struggling to keep his voice calm.

"I hesitated, Sam. Just like - just I did when - when we were kids. Except Dad wasn't there to bail me out this time."

Sam shook his head infuriated that that memory still haunted his brother.

"Dean..."

"My aim was all over the place. But I guess that's what happens when you spend three, four nights straight knocking back tequila and whisky huh?" Dean's eyes were glistening and Sam knew he wasn't helping. Shaking his head tearfully he looked his brother straight in the eye.

"Please, Dean. Don't do this ok. We can work this out. I know you feel bad and yeah you made a mistake but you gotta ease up on yourself man."

"A mistake? Sam a mistake is when you forget your keys or accidentally reverse your brother's car into a tree."

Sam shook his head again, ignoring his brother's attempt to distract him with the memory of the unfortunate prang he'd had when he was in his late teens.

"Dean you cannot keep torturing yourself for every single thing that goes to shit."

"You can't possibly deny that I screwed up here Sam. I mean come on. I was hung over."

"Hey I'd still trust your aim over most, hung over or not."

"You think that kid's parents would agree with you there Sammy?"

Sam looked away blinking back tears, and then turning back to his brother he spoke his voice almost breaking:

"Dean please. I don't know what to do anymore man. I'm trying my best here but I guess it's not good enough. I try to help but I end up making things worse and now it's like I'm losing you and I have no idea how to stop it!"

Dean winced, hating seeing his baby brother so distressed. Looking away he took a breath.

"Look Sam, I'll be alright. Just - don't go worrying bout me ok?"

Sam sniffed, wiping at his eyes.

"Really, Sam. I guess I just need some time to get my head straight ok?"

Sam nodded but all the while knowing his brother was lying to him. Lying to protect him. Always to protect him. But who was going to protect Dean? He cursed himself for being so useless. Why couldn't he help his brother this time? Was he that messed up himself now that he couldn't even be there for his brother? Was his head so screwed and riddled with his own guilt that he couldn't even find a way to reach Dean and haul him to his feet. Was he that weak now? If so then what hope did either of them have?

Dean pushed himself up announcing he was going for a drive.

"Why don't I come with you?" Sam asked tears still present in his eyes.

"No, I'm good. Look I just need a little time on my own ok?"

Dean considered himself to be a good liar. Although technically he wasn't lying. He was going for a drive he just didn't tell Sam he was going to drive to a liquor store and buy the largest bottle of whisky he could find and spend the rest of the evening pouring it down his neck. And when he'd done that, then he really would be ok.

It took Dean just over an hour to find a store, buy the alcohol and drive back to the motel. He didn't go in though - he couldn't do that to Sam. He would take a short walk and let Sam believe he was still out driving around and hopefully by the time he got back Sam would be fast asleep and unaware that his big brother was steaming drunk. Again. Well he was drinking for two now after all. Two deaths on his hands. Or was that three. It was probably a lot more than that if he was honest. Leaning against a tree he gazed up at the stars allowing the smooth liquid to burn his throat and slide into his stomach soothing away the pain and the guilt and numbing himself into a blissfully dull haze.

He didn't realise Sam was awake when he stumbled back into the motel room and he didn't hear his brother's tears of despair as he wrapped his arms around himself trying to hold in the sobs and he didn't hear the silent prayer that Sam made on his behalf, begging for help, for forgiveness and for a way out of this unending darkness. Dean was oblivious to it all and heard nothing and felt nothing. Collapsing on his bed fully clothed he allowed himself to drift into deep sleep where he hoped the demons wouldn't find him.

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Waking in a cold sweat his t-shirt clinging to him and the girl's desperate screams still ringing in his ears; he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom emptying the contents of his alcohol abused stomach into the toilet. Sam was fast on now thankfully and was oblivious to the sounds of his brother's retching behind the bathroom door. After washing his face and rinsing out his mouth he pushed his feet into his boots, grabbed the car keys and his gun and headed out into the cool night air.

The eerie silence of the night was almost comforting as if reassuring him that he knew what he had to do and that it was right and good. Smiling to himself he strolled over to the Impala unlocked the door and sank into the drivers seat sighing heavily. He'd intended to drive somewhere but his vision wasn't quite right making him think that he was still drunk and he really didn't want another person's blood on his hands. Turning his gun over in his hands he thought angrily about the people who had died because of him.

He thought about Layla and how she should be looking forward to a long and healthy future but because of him was facing a lingering death before she'd had the chance to achieve her dreams. That's if she wasn't dead already. He still prayed for her but it was mainly because he was reluctant to break a promise rather than pure faith or any belief in a higher power. He had long since given up on the idea that anyone was watching over him, and recent events had merely served to enforce those beliefs.

He thought about the lives of innocents he'd been forced to take over the years, innocents possessed who he had been unable to save, innocents taken over by an evil that they hadn't asked for or invited. And those who he had simply failed because he hadn't been quick enough or because the evil was too dark or simply because fate had not been on his side that day.

And he thought about his father. A flawed man who he adored and hero worshipped all the same but who had seen fit to make the ultimate sacrifice. A sacrifice he hadn't wanted or asked for, a sacrifice that had been made in order to save him but in fact was now destroying him. His father hadn't just given up his life he had sold his soul, his spirit the thing that made him who he was and that was so much worse than death wasn't it? Infinitely worse.

And now that kid. Casey. Fourteen years old and her life destroyed because he couldn't get through one night without a drink.

Looking out into the darkness, he thought it strange how indifferent he felt. He didn't desperately want to die but he didn't particularly want to live either. His time had come at least twice now and he thought maybe he should take the hint. His life was now invalid and he couldn't even do the job anymore. What was he if he couldn't hunt? But it was more than that. It wasn't just that he wasn't meant to be breathing it was that he really shouldn't be breathing and he had a feeling that if he didn't rectify the situation then more and more people would die at his hands. This was the universes way of correcting itself right? He wasn't supposed to be and so bad things would keep happening until he did something about it. Normally the idea of leaving his little brother alone would be enough to stop him from this line of thought but Dean knew that Sam could carry on without him and that in truth it was him that relied on Sam not the reverse. Besides what if Sam became one of those destined to die at his hands. For all he knew this was what his dad had meant by saving him. Maybe the only way to save Sam was to remove himself from the picture and then allow Sam to become the man he was meant to be; finally out of his brother's shadow.

Feeling the tears stinging in his eyes at the realisation he was leaving his baby brother behind he swallowed hard and steeled himself for what he knew he must do. Lifting the gun off his lap he turned it placing it under his chin and pressing it into his neck. Closing his eyes and allowing the tears to fall he sent out a silent apology to his little brother praying to whoever was listening that he would one day forgive him.

Then after deciding that it was over, he squeezed the trigger.

TBC

I know another cliff hanger - I'm so sorry