I wrote this story as a challenge for myself but I posted it for feedback on my writing. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

Many nights now, Dean came home from the bar smelling like perfume or cologne. He told Sam that he wanted to make the most of the time he had left. With those words Sam would withdraw into himself, unable to contemplate a world without his older brother in it. But the night would always end with Sam and Dean wrapped up together and neither would have it any other way.

May 17, 2008. What will be the worst day of Sam's life. The end of Dean's life. They're in Kansas again. Dean Winchester gets up early and leaves without waking his brother. He doesn't want Sammy to see the life slip from his eyes. Even at the end, he is protecting his little brother. Sam Winchester wakes up alone for the first time in almost two years. He knows immediately what day it is, knows exactly how many hours he has left with Dean, how many minutes even. He wants desperately to save him, but he doesn't know how.

Dean is leaning against the Impala when Sam gets outside. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye. They spend the day with each other, relishing their last moments as brothers, and lovers.

"Maybe I'll come with you," says Sam, as he lies next to his brother.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll come with you. Hell can't be that bad if we're both there, right?" For a second Dean almost agrees with Sam. But then he shakes his head.

"No, Sammy. You can't come with me."

"But I love you, Dean. I have to save you, because I love you." Sam's crying now, his shoulders shaking as he sobs.

"It doesn't always work that way, Sammy. Sometimes you can't save the people you love." Dean reasons with him, even as it breaks his heart.

"But you did." There's desperation in Sam's eyes, in his tears. There's a fear of what will happen to him when Dean's not there anymore.

"Yes, and look what it cost me, Sammy. I'd do it all over again, though, because I know that you'll be okay. You have to find your normal, apple pie life, Sammy. Do that for me."

Dean waits until Sam falls asleep before untangling himself from his brother and sneaking outside.

Shortly before midnight Sam wakes alone. This is the way it will be from now on, Sam knows. He takes a cab to where he knows Dean would have gone – the place where it all began, the place they once called home. He sees the Impala parked out front, the moonlight shining on its hood. Sam gets out of the cab and walks through the long grass on the side of the house. The house has been rebuilt since the fire but Sam doesn't remember what it used to look like. Dean is sitting on the old swing under the oak tree in the backyard. He smiles sadly when he sees Sam.

"You shouldn't have come, Sammy. But I knew you would."

"You left. You left me alone again." Sam whispers the words, and he's not talking about waking up in the middle of the night alone. He's talking about all the nights he will spend alone from now on, all the empty days and long roads and no destination, just the monotonous purpose of killing evil spirits and losing himself in the process.

"I know." It's all Dean needs to say. He understands everything Sammy hasn't spoken aloud.

"Jerk," says Sammy.

"Bitch."

"Dean." Sam's voice breaks on the name. In it is a desperation for this all to be some joke, a plead for Dean to get up and say, "It's okay, Sammy. I found a loophole." It's an apology that Sam couldn't find a way to save his brother.

"Sammy." It's the last time he will say his little brother's name. They both know this now, that the end is near, and Sam kneels in the wet grass and lays his head on Dean's knee. Still sitting on the swing, Dean runs his fingers through Sam's curls, soothing him. They stay like that for several minutes, until a hall clock chimes inside the house. Midnight. Dean's hand stills on Sam's head, and it's all over. Sam's tears run down his cheeks to collect on Dean's knee.

He salts and burns the bones as he promised Dean he would. He buries the bones underneath the swing. He has to do it at night so that he is not seen. In the darkness Sam can almost feel Dean there, wrapping his arms around him tight. "It's okay, Sammy," whispers Dean. "I'm still right here."