Chapter Eight
A/N: So this is the final chapter. When I first started this, I had no idea where it was going, and I even surprised myself where it has ended up. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, enjoy the last chapter!

Normal POV
Dean and Bobby were woken up by the screaming of the youngest Winchester. They ran out of the house and into the yard to see both Sam's bleeding out in the dirt; stab wound to both of their chest's and a knife sticking out from between the six-year-olds fingers.
Bobby and Dean looked at each other before each picking up and Sam and running back inside. They put them back in the library and Bobby stayed with them while Dean ran to get the first aid kit out of the bathroom.
When he got back, both of the younger boys were pale and their eyes were closed. They were barely breathing and Dean was starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to save them.
Bobby and Dean started to clean the wounds and patched them up as much as they could. When they were done Dean stayed kneeling in front of the couch that both Sam's were lying on. Bobby stood behind him awkwardly for a couple of minutes and then left the room to give him some time with his brothers.
Bobby knew there was no chance that either Sam's would survive, but he didn't want to ruin any hope that Dean had in his little brother.
Dean sat staring at his little brother's, watching them for any signs of movement. He didn't know how much time passed, but he could tell that he had been there a while. The sun was starting to come up over the horizon and patches of sunlight were filtering in through the cracks in the curtains.
Bobby had to force Dean to eat and drink throughout the day, otherwise Dean didn't leave his brothers side. By the time it was getting dark again, Dean was starting to lose hope. What if Sammy never woke up? What would he do without his little brother?
Dean rested his head on the edge of the couch and closed his eyes. He didn't want to imagine his life without Sammy. He was starting to drift off to sleep when he felt a hand on his head.
He looked up and saw his sixteen-year-old staring at him through half opened eyes.
"Dean..." He whispered, and then coughed, wincing as the rough movement hurt his chest.
"What is it Sammy?" Dean said, grabbing Sam's hand.
" 'm sorry. For everything. It's not my fault, I know; but I'm still sorry."
Sam's eyes closed with the effort that saying that one sentence had taken. His breathing was growing slower and it was so quiet Dean could almost hear when his brother's heart stopped beating.
"Sam? Sammy? Come on man, please!" Dean sat up a bit straighter and stared back and forth between both Sam's.
They were both as white as death and neither of them were breathing.
"Come one Sammy, please? Don't do this...I need you man." Dean whispered as tears fell from his eyes. Dean barely held back sobs as Bobby walked into the room.
"Dean..." Bobby started.
"Don't Bobby, there's nothing you can say. I'm going to get the pyre ready; we'll burn them at midnight." Dean stood up and walked passed Bobby and out into the yard.
He walked around the side of the house where all the fire wood was and picked up an axe. He swung the axe over his head and split one the biggest logs clean in half. He kept swinging until there was enough for the funeral pyre for both Sammy's. He set everything up so they would be already to go at midnight. there was salt and gasoline and a box of matches on a table next to everything. Dean walked back into the house and didn't look in the library where Bobby was wrapping both Sam's bodies in blankets. Instead he headed straight upstairs and started packing all of Sam's stuff into his duffle bag. He walked back downstairs and was halfway to the door when Bobby stopped him.
"What are you doing boy?" He asked.
"I'm burning Sam's stuff. I don't want to, but...I don't want him hanging around. I don't want to have to kill him later, when he's a freakin' ghost." Dean said and continued outside.
It was long dark by now, but Dean easily made his way to where he had left everything. He threw Sam's bag with it all and then looked at his phone. He was pondering weather or not to call his father. On one hand if he did, his father might not answer, or if he did he would probably blame Dean for not looking after Sam. On the other hand if Dean didn't call, then John might never speak to him again. Dean leaned against an old car as he flipped his phone open and dialed the number he had memorized.
John picked up after only a few rings.
"What is it Dean? I'm in the middle of a hunt and I'm ready to go and kill this thing." John said.
"Sam's gone." Dean said, flatly, still unable to believe it.
"What do you mean gone? Did he wonder off again?"
"No, I mean he's gone. He's...he's dead."
There was silence on the other line and then, "He what? I thought I told you look after him Dean; make sure he didn't get into trouble. What happened?"
"I don't know exactly. I think it was that Hope Demon. My guess is that it stabbed little Sam and so that killed the older one."
"Where were you when this happened? I told you to always keep an eye on him."
"I was asleep." Dean said; as if it was now suddenly his fault his brother had died. "I thought he was too. I didn't hear until..."
"Until what?"
"Until he screamed. Until I was too late." Dean was whispering now and he felt tears welling up in his eyes again.
"I'll be there in 3 hours, don't do anything until I get there." John said and hung up.
"Yes sir." Dean said to the dial tone before flipping him own phone shut.
He stood there and slowly began to realise that has hand was clamped tightly around the amulet around his neck that Sam had given him for Christmas one year. He looked down at the ground for a little longer and then walked back inside.
"Dad's on his way." Dean said to Bobby before going back upstairs.
He lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling until he heard his fathers truck pull into the driveway. He got up and went to the window just in time to see John jump out of the black truck and walk to the front door. He heard the door open adn then there was faint voices.
He could hear them moving around downstairs and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 11:55 the numbers read; his father was early.
He sighed and then walked out of the bedroom and downstairs. He stood at the bottom when he saw his father in the hallway. John turned around the sound of footsteps and stopped when he saw Dean staring at him from the bottom of the wooden staircase. They stared at each other for a few seconds before John moved foward and wrapped his arms around his now only son. Dean was shocked for a second before he hugged his father back. He had no idea how long they stayed like that but they finally let go when Bobby cleared his throat.
John took a step back and put a hand on his sons shoulder, "Come on Dean, let's give your brothers the funeral they deserve." Dean nodded and walked into the living room.
He took the six-year-old while John got his other Sam and they carried them outside toward the pyre. Dean covered the bodies and Sam's bag in salt and gasoline and then lit a match and threw it on top of it all. Nothing happened for a second and Dean thought the match had gone for out but after a moment everything burst into flames and Dean took a step back.
The three hunters stood there, watching the youngest Winchester burn.
Like a hunter who had died in battle.

THE END

A/N: I know, the ending was quite terrible and incredibly short, but after reading through this many times, I have decided that I like it. I never intended for Sam to survive in this story and I think this is a better way of killing him off than I originally had planned. I hope you enjoyed and once again, thank you to everyone who has read this, reviewed, favourited and followed. You guys are the only reason I ended up finishing this. THANK YOU!