"Dean…" a voice said softly, "Dean?"

Dean groaned. His head was spinning in circles and he felt like he had slept for a week. What was going on? A hand gently shook his shoulder and then the voice continued, "Dean, I'm sorry, but you can't sleep forever. It's time to wake up."

"Sam?" Dean moaned, not opening his eyes. When the voice didn't respond he kept talking, "What happened last night, man? Damn, it feels like I have the biggest hangover ever…" The grip on Dean's arm tightened ever so slightly and then let go completely. For a long moment there was only silence.

"Oh no…" Sam moaned from where he was standing unseen, watching the exchange take place. "Oh God, he doesn't remember…"

"Dean." the voice said again.

Dean slowly opened his eyes and realized who was waking him. "…Bobby?" he whispered, bewildered. He looked around and found that he was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala; his door was open and Bobby was standing just outside, watching him. Dean shook his head again as though to clear his mind. "What's going on?"

Sam turned away and shut his eyes, feeling a tear escape and slide down his cheek. All of his fears were confirmed; Rebecca had succeeded in erasing Dean's memory of the last four months. Everything was going to happen exactly as she had said…everything…

Bobby took a sharp intake of breath at Dean's obvious confusion and looked away. "You…you don't remember what happened?"

Dean stared at him and bit his lip. "No, I don't." he paused and looked around, realizing with a jolt of panic who was missing. "Where's Sam?"

Bobby opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again with a sigh.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded loudly, his heart racing.

Sam shook his head weakly. "Don't tell him Bobby…please don't tell him…"

"Dean, I'm so sorry…" Bobby said gently, "Sam…Sam's dead."

Dean jerked and looked up wildly; his mind racing as all the unwanted memories came rushing back in an instant. Sam disappearance from the diner—Calling Bobby to help—Tracking down his brother's location—Arriving too late—All the blood—

"No." he whispered shakily.

"Damn it, Dean, don't do this!" Sam said helplessly. "You have to remember!"

"No!" Dean yelled, quickly standing up and glaring at Bobby. "He's not dead! You're lying!"

Bobby backed up a step and then just looked at him sadly, his gaze full of pity. "He's in there." He said softly, pointing at the small wooden building next to the car. "Dean—"

Dean started running towards the building before Bobby could finish his sentence. He yanked open the door and rushed inside, looking around wildly. Sam couldn't be dead, he couldn't—he was just injured, that was all—

His gaze fell on a bed in the corner and he froze in mid-stride.

Sam was lying motionless on the mattress, his arms placed casually over his stomach.

It looked as though his brother was only sleeping, but Dean didn't hope. He knew better than that.

Sam was dead. His little brother was dead, and he wasn't going to wake up this time. He wasn't going to be okay.

Dean shakily let out the breath he'd been holding and then slowly breathed in again, allowing the cool air to flow through his lungs.

He was alive…and Sam wasn't.

How could this have happened? This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Behind him, Bobby gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. The protesting wail of the door's un-oiled hinges seemed to echo loudly through the room, but Dean didn't look up. His gaze was fixed on Sam's body.

Sam squeezed in through the open door behind Bobby and stared at his brother. Dean was standing there motionless, staring at his body. He had his back to him, so he couldn't see the expression on Dean's face—not that he wanted to.

They all stood there for several minutes before Dean finally spoke, his voice unnaturally hard, controlled. "What happened?"

Bobby sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Well, I drove off in the Impala to find someone that could help Sam…" he paused, and then sighed again. "God, I'm sorry, Dean—there was no one. Anywhere. The road was deserted for miles and miles, and when I did occasionally find a house nobody was ever home…after about fifteen minutes I gave up and drove back to where you were."

"And?" Dean demanded.

"And you were lying on the ground unconscious next to Sam...he was already dead when I got there, Dean. There was nothing that I could do…I carried you both to the Impala and then drove here."

"Oh." Dean said simply. "So…so I've only been out for about an hour then."

"Dean…" Bobby said cautiously, "I couldn't bring myself to wake you…you've been unconscious for a little over six hours."

"Six hours." Dean said, his voice still mostly calm. "It's been six hours?"

"Yes."

"He's—he's been—dead—for six hours?"

Bobby swallowed hard and looked down. "Yes."

"Oh." Dean said. He paused for a moment, and then slowly turned around. His face was emotionless and blank, his expression unreadable. "Oh."

"Dean, do you—"

"I need a drink." Dean said, sinking down into the nearest chair.

"But—"

"Bobby. I need a drink. Right now."

"Dean…drinking won't help the situation, it'll just make it worse—"

"Oh, no, I disagree. I honestly don't think this could get any worse." Dean said conversationally. "In this moment, right now, I have to say that I have never ever felt any worse in my entire life. Sam is dead Bobby. Dead. Forever. This is basically the worst it's ever gonna get, and I think that I deserve to have a drink, so humor me, won't you?"

Bobby remained motionless, staring sympathetically at Dean. "Dean, I know this is hard…hell, I loved Sam too, but you getting totally wasted is not going to help the situation."

"Yeah, having Sam alive would help the situation, but since that's apparently not happening—" he broke off and looked away.

"Dean, we're running out of time and we need to find the demon—"

Dean let out a bitter laugh and sat back in his chair. "You just don't get it do you Bobby? Sam just died…my brother just died. Cut me some slack, why don't you?"

"Dean…I know that you need some time to grieve, but as it is we really don't have time right now. Something big is going down. End of the world big."

"Well then, let it end." Dean said bitterly.

Sam's eyes locked on his brother's face in shock. Let it end? How could say that? Dean had been hunting demons forever…how could he just give up? Especially now?

"You don't mean that." Bobby said, echoing Sam's astonishment.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" he abruptly stood up and walked right up to Bobby, his voice getting louder with every step, "I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and get the hell out of here—GO!" he shoved Bobby toward the door.

Bobby stood there, staring at Dean in shock. Dean stared at him for a second and then looked down with a sigh. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry. Please—just go."

"You know where I'll be." Bobby said quietly. He turned around and walked out the door without another word. Dean stood there motionless, staring at the ground, as an engine started up outside and Bobby slowly drove away, leaving him alone.

Alone.

All alone.

"No." Dean whispered, the full impact of Sam's death finally sinking in. "No." His vision started spinning and he felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs. Bile rose up in his throat and he mentally pushed it back down as he staggered over to the mattress where his brother's body lay. He stared down at Sam's motionless form for a moment and then his knees gave way and he collapsed on the floor. "Sam." he whispered shakily. "Sammy."

"Dean." Sam said, quickly kneeling next to the bed beside his brother. "Dean, I'm right here. I'm right beside you."

Dean continued staring at his brother's body, and a single tear trickled down his cheek. "Come on, Sammy, you can't be dead…you can't. Not now…not…oh…" Dean's voice gave out and he began sobbing uncontrollably into Sam's lifeless chest. "Sammy…no."

"Dean." Sam choked. "Dean—"

Dean suddenly pushed himself back angrily and abruptly stood up, tears pouring down his face. "How could you do this to me?!" he yelled suddenly, furiously, "Damn it Sam, how could you—how—how could you leave me like this?!"

Sam's mouth dropped open in shock and he stared motionless at his brother.

Dean let out another anguished sob. "How could you die and leave me all alone? How could you do that to me?! You're all I had left, Sam!"

"I didn't leave you Dean, I promise!" Sam said frantically, standing up to face his older brother. "I'm still here, you just can't see me—"

"You're all I had left, and I—and I—" Dean broke off and let out a shaky breath. "I treated you like crap…all the time."

"That's not true—"

"You were always trying to help me and get me to talk…and I ignored you. I yelled at you, hit you, pushed you away…" he laughed bitterly. "And now that I'd give anything just to hear your voice…you're dead…and I'll—I'll never get to talk to you again."

"Dean, stop it." Sam demanded helplessly.

Dean shook his head miserably. "You're all I had left, Sam…you kept me going through all those hunts, held me together after Dad died. If it wasn't for you I would have fallen apart long ago…I needed you there with me…way more than you ever needed me…"

"What are you talking about?!" Sam said sharply. "You're my brother, Dean, of course I need you—"

"But I never told you that…I never told you half of what I should have. I never told you that I appreciated you sticking with me when you could've had a normal, decent life." He sank warily down into a chair, still staring at the body. "What a great brother I am, I never even told you that I love you, Sammy…but I guess it's too late to tell you that now, isn't it? You're gone…and I'm all alone."

Sam's eyes blurred with tears. "I already knew that Dean, you never actually had to say it…" Dean just continued staring straight ahead, oblivious to Sam's presence. Sam walked over and stood right beside him. "Come on, don't do this again, Dean! You have to remember—the last few months, Room 37, Rebecca—anything!" he reached out a hand and placed it on Dean's shoulder. Dean shivered but didn't look up. "You felt that, didn't you? I know you felt that, you felt it back in the room too." Sam extended his arm further right through his brother's shoulder and watched as Dean folded his arms across his chest and shivered again. "Damn it, Dean! I'm trying to contact you here and all you do is shiver?! We daily fight the supernatural and you don't even notice that I'm right here beside you?! Look at me!"

Dean remained quiet, his eyes downcast. Sam removed his arm after a moment and dejectedly sat down on the floor right next to his brother's chair. They sat there in silence for a while before Dean spoke again, his voice soft, "When you were little, couldn't have been more than five, you just started asking questions…how come we didn't have a mom, why did we always have to move around, where's Dad…I remember I begged you. 'Quit asking, Sammy. You don't want to know.' I just wanted you to be a kid. Just for a little while longer. Always tried to protect you. Keep you safe." He took a shaky breath and smiled slightly, remembering, "Dad didn't even have to tell me, it's just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job…I had one job…and I screwed it up. I blew it, and for that I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do—I let down the people I love. Y'know, I let Dad down, and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too." He looked up angrily, his eyes swimming in tears. "How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy? What am I supposed to do?"

Sam knew what was coming. He could tell by the mad glint in his brother's eye, the firm set of his jaw. "Dean—please—don't—"

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean yelled, lashing out angrily and kicking the bed-frame.

"Don't make the deal, Dean!" Sam yelled back, matching his brother's intensity. "That's what you're supposed to do, that's what I want you to do!"

Dean stood there trembling with his eyes squeezed shut, every breath coming out ragged and uneven. He was lost in his own thoughts, desperately thinking of a way to fix the hopeless situation he was in. Nothing would work—nothing—nothing would bring people back from the dead— "No…" he whispered. "No, there has to be something…"

His eyes snapped open in a sudden realization.

"No…" Sam moaned helplessly, recognizing the determined gleam in his brother's eyes.

Dean took one last long look at Sam's cold, lifeless body.

He knew what he had to do.

Only a few more chapters left to go!

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