-1The problem with grief was that it was not world shattering. Sure, it was just enough to be world altering, but it never truly stopped the world, not really. It felt to Sam that the combination of grief and guilt should be enough to bring his world to a screeching halt, or a gigantic implosion, or at the very least suck it all into a black hole where there was nothing but the agony. But it didn't. The world kept moving, and forcing him to trudge along, like a train whose doors had snatched his backpack and was jerking him along the tracks, or a horse that had reared and despite his foot caught in the stirrups, continued to run along the jagged and rocky terrain it dragged him across. The problem was that the sun still set, the moon still rose, and about 8 hours later it was time to do it all over again. The world acted just as it did when Dean was still alive. Sam noticed that of late, he was having trouble comprehending how after three months the Earth continued to turn. Sam had not noticed this at first, at first when he'd been in a haze of booze and kamikaze plans. But, then, something had happened, something inside Sam had flipped. And it was all because of Ruby. Ruby's words to him. They were so like something Dean would have said, he could hear Dean's voice echoing in those words. But the moment he looked back at the face that spoke them was the moment that Sam realized that Dean was dead. Dean had died and gone to hell, and there was nothing Sam could do to alter it. He was helpless, powerless, weak. He had nothing, no course of action, Dean was in hell and there was nothing that Sam or anyone could do to bring him back.

Sam had wanted to shove Ruby's knife into his heart right there.

But Ruby's next words had stopped him, because those words reminded Sam that if Dean knew what Sam was doing, he would kill him. He would be so royally pissed off, he would kill him, and he'd make sure Sam came back as a ghost just so he could kill him again. And maybe, just maybe, he'd sell his soul again to get Sam back and brave hell gladly just for the sheer joy of revenge it would be to kill him a third time.

And that had caused Sam to endure a moment of horror, because what if Dean knew? Hell could work in a lot of different ways. Sam knew better than anyone all the different accounts there were, from Dante to James Joyce. What if this was some kind of torture? What if the demons in hell were showing Dean images of his fucked up precious little brother? What if Sam was somehow contributing to Dean's torment? It was bad enough Dean was there because of his failure in the first place, it killed Sam to think that Dean was suffering further because of his actions and his selfish grief.

But as suddenly as the thought had Sam gaping in horror, it had him sighing in relief. What if Dean could see him?

It brought Sam some comfort, like maybe Dean was around somehow, and maybe Ruby knew that, and maybe that's how she knew what to say. Maybe Ruby really was looking out for him, maybe she had watched Dean and figured out how he dealt with Sam, maybe she did it so he'd never really lose Dean. Maybe the two of them had conspired, because Dean knew Sam better than Sam knew himself, and he had to have known that Sam would need him, and if he couldn't have him, at least he could give Sam the next best thing-his own specially trained substitute. Sure, it was a bit like sugar substitute where the aftertaste reminded you that it was most definitely not the real thing, but after awhile, you got used to it, and while you pined for sugar, you could get through a meal without being tempted. And maybe, just maybe, Ruby knew Dean could see him.

And Sam did not feel so alone.

But, the thought still didn't quench the vengeance from his heart. It didn't make Sam any less angry or any less of a failure. He still had to make this up to Dean. He couldn't just let this go. Dean deserved more. So, Sam decided to repay Dean the only way he knew how, revenge. It was the only option left to him. Just going on hunting without Dean, as though Dean had never been there seemed wrong and it certainly didn't seem fitting. Dean deserved some kind of grand gesture, some kind of marker that he had been here and someone had cared. So, Sam transformed his kamikaze plans to plans of revenge. And even though he knew Dean would probably kill him for the manner in which he was getting revenge, at least maybe it might make Dean feel loved. Sam had always looked for ways Dean would let Sam show that, by talking to him or simply telling him, but Dean had always deemed them "chick flick moments" and had hated them, and had always preferred actions to words. So, maybe Dean didn't care as much about Sam's powers now that he was in hell, and maybe if he could see, he'd know that Sam was doing it out of love. Or maybe even, if Sam became too good, the demons would stop using him as some kind of twisted torture device and find other ways to hurt Dean. So, maybe if they thought Sam was using his powers, they'd still be able to use him to hurt Dean, they'd let him watch, but Sam would know and Dean would know the truth, and maybe Dean would be comforted by it.

And once Sam had figured that out, he found himself able to start to let go of the little things.

When Dean had first died, Sam had engaged in some pre-Dean's death habits. He'd gotten two twins at motels, he'd find himself about to toss the keys to Dean, only to realize he wasn't there to catch them. He'd lost count of the number of times the keys had actually hit the ground with that empty clanking sound in the early weeks. Sam kept to his side of the room, he'd made sure he left hot water in the shower, he even ordered two coffees in the mornings, a burger and a salad at lunch, and always a slice of pie with dinner.

And every time he did one of these things, it would twist the knife. Because each time Sam had a respite, a moment of relief in which he forgot that everything important in his life had gone to hell-literally. And each time he was reminded, he had to go through the whole thing all over again.

Because even though Sam had spent most of his waking moments early on trying to either bring Dean to him or bring himself to Dean, those habits just don't go away. They stay with you. They're ingrained in your body, your bones, and even though your mind and heart and soul are telling you to give up, give in, don't do anything that won't bring Dean back or won't let you forget, his body insisted he sleep, his plans insisted he drove, and his stomach insisted he eat. He hadn't for the first few days. When he passed out the first time and woke up alone on the ground in the middle of a crossroads, he'd worried that he'd screwed something up, and realized that getting Dean back was preferable to his suicide. So, while either would work, he wasn't going to put himself in front of Dean. Not this time.

So, the little things continued. And they continued to hurt. Until he had figured out that maybe, just maybe Dean was watching, and slowly, one by one, the little things started to disappear. He remembered to drive the Impala, he ordered only enough food for himself, he even began to get used to someone not having his back when he was hurt, it ceased being strange sewing himself up and popping dislocated joints back into place by himself. He even began to sprawl out across the room and showered as long as he liked.

He even stopped remembering the pie.

But he couldn't seem to stop getting the twin beds and he never learned how to sleep in the driver seat of the Impala. Because Sam couldn't make himself forget about Dean right before he went to sleep. He couldn't let his last waking thought at nights and his first thought in the mornings not be about Dean. It felt like a dishonor to his memory. It felt like he was letting himself off the hook. It didn't matter how much it hurt to remember Dean wasn't just in the shower. The moments he let himself believe Dean was just in the shower were Heaven. The moments he let himself think that Dean was just getting some air as Sam slept in the passenger seat were worth the crashing reality.

Because remembering Dean was dead all the time was worse. Every time he ordered only one coffee, every time he kept the keys to himself, and every time he sewed himself up, it made it all a reality. It was the pain of the reminder without the relief of the illusion.

But Sam felt that he deserved as much. His brother was in hell, why shouldn't he be in his own version of it as well? He just couldn't bring himself to let go completely of those moments. It was part penance and part relief. Those moments when in his head Dean was alive. The highlight of his day.

And at some point in time, it had never really been a conscious action, not really. "Two twins" had always just been the first thing out of his mouth, and Sam had never figured out how to fall asleep with the driver's wheel at his knees.

And the part of Sam that kept trying to believe that Dean was somehow watching felt that if he ever succeeded at getting Dean out of hell, Dean would see and wouldn't have to worry that Sam didn't have a place for him to sleep when he came back.

Of course, once Sam had realized that Dean wasn't coming back, he kept the space open so Dean would know Sam remembered him, that Sam wasn't just letting go, and maybe it would help explain what Sam was doing with Ruby. Maybe it would help Dean realize that he still thought of Dean, that he did it for Dean, because he couldn't just do nothing. And maybe the gesture would help Dean realize. If he was watching. Maybe.

So, three months later, when Sam woke up again to a world with Dean and then crashed into a world without him, he knew he had to continue to get on with his day. He had to look into getting Lilith, where she was, had to get stronger, had to force himself to push through the pain. It saved lives, and how would Dean not be proud of that?

Dean always got mad whenever Sam strayed from the conventional hunting methods their father had taught them, but he'd always been impressed with Sam when they worked, always stood up to their father in his defense. It was the only time Sam could ever remember Dean siding with Sam over John. It was the only time Sam had ever seen Dean stand up to their father. -------Dean had even said three years ago, way back when they'd had that fight. He'd said that he was proud of Sam for doing his own thing, for going after what he wanted.--------- Dean had always been proud of Sam for his ingenuity and ambition. So, maybe, just maybe IF Dean could see him from hell, he'd maybe just maybe find it in him to smile-not even smile, just...just smirk a little, feel the slightest second of happiness in pride for Sam's ingenuity, for Sam managing to stumble out of bed in the morning and endure his own hell with strength and make the best out of the curse that was his powers. Maybe, just maybe, the demons' would mistake the smirk for a grimace and laugh with sadistic glee that Dean suffered to see his precious little brother give in to his darkest instincts, to see him give into his unnatural powers. But they would know, just him and Dean, it'd be their little secret. They would know why Sam was doing it, that it was for Dean, and that it was helping people. And they would know that Sam was strong enough to control it, that Sam was different, that Sam could use his powers without giving in like Eva or Jake had, that Sam could carry on where Dean had left off, he could continue to live by Dean's words "saving people, hunting things." , and that he was OK. Dean would want to know that Sam was somehow OK. And, maybe Dean would know if he kept going after Lilith, kept using his powers to save people from demons. Dean would know.

And the demons wouldn't. And what the demons would mistake for torture, would really be a moment of joy for Dean. One moment of joy in hell. At least maybe Sam could do that much for his brother. Maybe.

So, when the fourth Indiana Jones movie came out, Sam decided to go see it. It felt all kinds of wrong, going with Ruby, but maybe, just maybe IF Dean was watching him from hell, he'd get to see the movie too, somehow. Maybe.

And when Sam decided to go ahead and drink the blood from Ruby, after he'd hesitated, after he'd refused, he knew, that maybe, just maybe, if Dean was watching, that Dean would smile. Dean would know how much Sam was willing to give up for him, how far Sam was willing to go. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Dean never really believed him when he said he'd die for him, but maybe, just maybe, Dean would know he'd meant it. He'd know how much he was loved, and he'd realize he'd gone to hell for a brother who had deserved it.

Maybe.