Wendigo. Dean typed into the search bar of the internet. "Nasty sons of bitches, these things are." Dean whispered, looking for more information he could scrape up. His father had contacted Dean earlier that day and asked him to do some research for him on Wendigo's. He had found a possible case in Michigan.
His father knew all about Wendigos, but wanted Dean to see if he could find any extra outside info about them that would be useful. He had always carried his notebook with information on the creatures he hunted with him as a resource.
After an hour of searching for more information, he gave up, seeing the same information on every site. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, his head aching from the dim computer light. He stood up and cleaned the area around him. Dirty glasses, strewn paper all over the floor, and medications scattering the floor.
After cleaning up the dirty dishes and throwing away the papers, he glanced at Sam. It'd been a week since the raw head attack. Sam had been drained since. He was still weak and the pain in his head was still the same since.
He'd been asleep for 10 hours today, waking only to take his required medication. Sam hadn't spoken since the shock of the claustrophobia incident happened. He still had after shock.
It was hard watching his brother sleep away half of the day. After a few days of Sam barely ever waking, Dean had taken into depression pills. He felt lonely, weak, and was worried about his baby brother. He, of course, knew that he could always have contacted Bobby or Pastor Jim about his worries and problems, but he didn't want to. It was my fault, I got Sammy into this, I deserve this, Dean thought.
Hot tears began to run down Dean's face. The doctors' report still rang in Dean's head. 'Sammy is a strong boy, he's been fighting very hard. But the odds are just not in his favor. But keep hope, because the lord does, in fact, work in mysterious ways.'
Sam had been diagnosed with serious head trauma and head contusions. Sam had slept away more than half of his day ever since. Dean gripped the back of his chair with both hands and let his head down. He had given up hope long ago, and was not about to let false hope trickle back into his head. Dean looked to his baby brother, pale, sunken cheeks, and motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
More tears sprang into Dean's eyes as he was watching his baby brother's life slip away from him, surely, but slowly.
John left for his hunt a few days after Sam was diagnosed, wanting to occupy himself and hoping by the time he got back, that his son was somewhat recovering.
John had also given into depression medication after a few days on the hunt.
Sammy was the only thing that kept their family together. The only thing that kept them linked. Without Sam, they always had fights, argued over small things, and both would come to hate life.
Dean and John were broken.
Dean was behind the wheel of the Impala, grinning as he replayed the few hours of his previous hunt. He had killed another supernatural being.
His smile faded as he stopped at the red light next to the town cemetery. He ripped his eyes from the road and stared into the cemetery.
He put the Impala into reverse. He knew he had unfinished business to do.
When he got to the cemetery entrance, he put the Impala into park and continued his way on foot. He had his hands in his pocket and kept his eyes down. As he approached it, tears began to run down his face.
He stopped at the marker, looking up.
It read, 'Samuel Winchester, beloved son and brother.' Dean and John couldn't bring themselves to mark when Sam had died, not wanting to be always reminded of how young Sam was when he died.
Dean bent down and crouched before his brother's grave. Tears were not spilling from his eyes as he stared at his baby brother's grave.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean whispered. It was almost inaudible.
"I uh...I'm sorry I haven't visited at all. Ya know, Dad's always itchin' for a hunt and sends me on hunts." Dean laughed slightly as he said it.
"Sammy…" he whispered. He averted his eyes to the ground, not wanting to stare at his grave any longer. "I'm sorry…I should have protected you. It was my job…and I failed…" he whispered, silent tears flooding down his face.
"I miss you so much, Sammy. It's only been a year, but it's been like 100 to me…" Dean whispered. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Dean ignored it until it vibrated again, no doubt his father was trying to contact him.
He pulled out his phone silently and flipped it open. He read the text his father sent him.
"Ohio State, Cali." it said. Dean understood what his father meant, wanting Dean to head there.
His father, as well as Dean, was not coping with Sam's death at all. Dean barely spoke of it and neither did John for that matter. Dean barely ever spoke to his father anymore, keeping silent. His father, on many occasions, sat Dean down and talked about how they needed to communicate more, seeing as Dean had now almost OD'd on depression pills 5 times since Sam's death and had taken to self harm.
His father had walked in on Dean cutting many times, Dean's eyes blank with no emotion as John scooped Dean into his arms into a tight embrace after cleaning up the blood and the wound. John would speak to Dean about cutting, but all Dean ever did was nod. John hadn't heard Dean's voice since Sam's last day alive.
Dean stood up, placing a hand on Sam's grave. "Gotta go, Sammy." He whispered. "I love you, little brother." he whispered, tears running down his face. He took one last look at Sam's grave then turned and walked away.
He climbed back into the Impala. He reached into his pocket and squeezed the only thing he had left of Sam.
The amulet.
He took it off after the funeral and always kept it in his pocket, always embracing it in times of need, frustration, and lust.
He took it out of his pocket and examined it. It was the same as he had remembered it when he first got it from Sam. Perfectly crafted the way it was when he got it. He had taken it off because he hated the constant reminder of Sam that would make him cry.
He smiled down at the amulet. After a few seconds' hesitation, he slipped it on over his head and onto his neck, where it lay at it's home. He smiled down at the amulet where it belonged.
"Thanks, Sammy." he whispered.
He revved the engine of the Impala, turned up the radio, and reversed the Impala. He smiled. Maybe Sammy wants be to be happy, Dean thought.
"This one's for you, Sammy." He whispered.
He was on the road again and on his way to a new hunt.
He knew, of course, he would never get over Sam's death. But he would always keep his baby brother in his heart. He vowed from this day on, that he would never again remove the amulet. And he would try and be happy.
For Sammy.
Author's Note;
Well, that pretty much wraps this story up. THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! And sorry for killing Sam off. It was the best way, that i could see, to finish the story off once and for all. I took the epilogue to much thought while writing and i hope you guys like it!