Sam eventually showed up on the front side of the house, and slowly wandered his way over to his brother who was sitting on the porch and while he wasn't sobbing anymore, there were still tears tracking slowly down his face as he starred into nothing.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked as he stood next to his brother. He waiting for a response and got none. Dean didn't even look like he heard him. Sam was afraid that this was going to be permanent for his brother. Sam opted to sit down next to his brother, shoulders touching, just like all of those times Dean had found Sam sitting one place or the other crying. That little touch always told Sam that Dean was there for him, that Dean understood, that he loved and trusted him, Sam hoped that the same touch would feel the same way to Dean. Sam thrust his hands into his pockets and stared straight ahead. "It's cold out here Dean." He said trying to get some kind of response out of his big brother. When none was forthcoming, Sam continued to speak. "Why don't we go inside where it's warm. I think Bobby is making you a hot cup of tea. Mint, I think he said, you know, something that can't possibly taste like anything you had in Hell. You need to get something down your throat and into your stomach. Your stomach must be wondering what in the hell is going on. I mean it's used to being fed hamburger, fried stuff, you know the stuff you like to eat. You can't starve yourself. No use in that. You can't waste away while we are killing those evil sons of bitches."

Dean turned to his little brother, he looked up into Sam's eyes, and it took everything in Sam's power not to turn from his brother's dead, haunted flat green eyes. "I'm not going back out there."

Sam startled. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I can't do this. I'm not strong enough." He looked away from Sam's eyes and hung his head. "Not strong enough." He repeated and held his head in between his knees, and as if he hadn't been crying for days already, began crying again.

"Dean." Sam put a hand on his brother's back, unsure if that was the right course of action, Dean never appreciated touch, and Sam wasn't sure if his brother wanted his demon blood infested brother touching him. "Dean. Listen to me." He ran a hand up and down his brother's spine. "Dean. You are the strongest man I've ever met." Dean said nothing, and Sam was at a loss for words. He didn't have any kind of experience in comforting his brother. Dean had never allowed soothing words to comfort him, nor did he ever give anyone a chance to use them. Dean always closed off and dealt with his own issues h is own way, and his way rarely if ever involved another person.

"No, Sam, I'm not strong. I'm weak. I'm horribly weak. That's why I sold my soul in the first place, because I was too weak to go on living without you at my side. That's why I took Alistair's razor and began torturing, I was too weak. Dad never gave in, Dad almost survived 100 years in the pit and he didn't break, I broke in thirty. I'm not strong Sammy, I'm not."

"You don't know that Dad didn't…"

"I do." Dean cut him off. "I do know. Alistair told me when he told me that I broke the first seal. Dad was a better man than I am. Better hunter. Better everything." Dean licked his lips and turned away from Sam.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is Sam."

"No, it's not. Dad was mean, hurtful, and he did what he did out of revenge. He wasn't a better man than you. Every single life you have ever saved has been because that is what the right thing to do is. You are a good man."

"The righteous man who sheds blood in hell…"

"Dean…"

"I need to just be strong enough to kill myself." Sam swallowed, the idea of living permanently without his brother again sent chills up and down his spine.

"Dean."

"Leave me alone Sam. I'll do it. Just give me time to get the courage."

Sam violently grabbed Dean by his shirt and coat. He pulled him close to his face. "You will never speak like that again! You will not kill yourself. I can't live with you dead." Sam screamed into Dean's blank face.

"You did a fine job the last time." Sam threw him and then punched him in his already swollen face. Instant guilt was replaced by anger.

"You think so? You think I did an okay job by myself. Oh my God you…" Sam wiped a hand down his face. "You have no idea."

"You are fine Sammy. Stronger than ever. I'm just dragging you down." He said as blood trickled from his nose. Dean made no effort to wipe the blood away. Sam felt instantaneous guilt.

"I'm not. I'm not Dean."

"The world will be better if I'm gone. Not like anyone noticed the first time, and not like they'll notice this time."

"Bobby and I would notice." Dean said nothing and continued to stare out into the salvage yard, blood trickling down from his nose, tears streaming from his eyes, and his body hunched over so far that one would never imagine that he was over 6 foot tall.

"Dean. I need you."

"No. No you really don't Sammy." Dean said after a lengthy pause. "You don't need me weighing you down. You need an equal. That isn't me anymore….if it ever was."

"Dean…." Sam was trying to hold his tears back.

"You said once, that you and Ruby saved more people in four months than we did in years. If that's true, then take up with her as a partner, save as many people as you can. I can't save anyone anymore. I just hurt people. I just destroy the world. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the brother you looked up to. I'm a failure and a fraud." The tears that threatened broke the dam and Sam began to cry. Dean huddled in more on himself and said, "Go inside Sam. It's cold."