Dean kept his foot pressed on the gas as he drove as far away from the Men of Letters bunker as he could get.

Away from Sam.

Away from those memories of being inside his little brother's head.

Away from everything he had just witnessed.

Slamming the heel of his hand against his baby, Dean cursed loudly as he kept driving, glancing down at the speedometer and watching as it inched closer and closer to 80…just like over a year ago when Sam had been behind the wheel attempting to commit the unthinkable.

Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, wasn't it? He was planning on killing himself…Dean shook his head and tried to get that word out of his head.

Suicide.

Suicide.

Trying to comprehend that word and his brother made him felt physically ill inside…but then again, how must Sam be feeling at this moment?

Gritting his teeth and jerking the wheel of the Impala so that she moved out of traffic, Dean slammed on the breaks of his baby and put her into park. Leaning his head against the steering wheel, the older Winchester sucked in a long, shaky breath and released it slowly.

Closing his eyes, he replayed the images – Sam's memories – over in his mind, guilt slowly starting to wash over him. The look on his little brother's face in each memory wouldn't leave his mind.

The look on Sam's face as he had listened to that fake voicemail the night Lucifer was released from his Cage; the devastation and pain were as clear as day and who was Dean to say that he hadn't given Sam enough reason to believe that was really him? After all, he had called him a monster and he had told him never to come back if he walked away.

The look on Sam's face after Dean had dropped the amulet in the trashcan – all the while knowing full well that his brother was watching him…and then picking it up and pocketing it, never once bringing it up after all these years and not having enough trust that Dean would accept it back if he returned it.

The look on Sam's face while he was behind the wheel of this very car…on his way to killing himself. The words Sam had spoken while the speedometer had reached past 90, getting closer and closer to 100, the apology that he had whispered to thin air echoed in Dean's head.

Did Dean even ask what had really happened while he was in Purgatory? Did he even care? How many times had Sam attempted to explain his point of view and each time, he was shut down in the face and instead told that Benny – a vampire – had never once let him down and was a better brother then his own flesh and blood.

How many times had Dean looked Sam in the eye and ignored all the hurt, all the frustration and – let's face it – suicidal thoughts? In that church all those months ago when his baby brother had confessed what his "greatest sin" was, there was no denying that Dean was talking Sam off a suicide ledge…one that he never fully came back from after he had tricked him to have Gadreel possess him.

"Oh my God, what have I done?" Dean moaned, clutching the steering wheel tightly,

"Sammy…what did I do to you?"

"You can go to Hell, Sammy."

"Go to Hell, Sammy."

"…Hell."

Of all things…of all things that Dean had ever hurled his little brother's way, this was by far the worst because they both had been to Hell and back. But Sam had literally been in Lucifer's Cage, his soul locked up and tortured much longer then Dean had ever been.

And yet Dean had had the nerve to tell his brother to "go to Hell".

For the first time since Kevin died and it was revealed that Gadreel had been lying to him the entire time and the angel wasn't who he said he was, Dean was starting to get just why Sam had been so angry and hurt at him. Why he had said some of the things he did. If the older Winchester knew his brother at all – did he really know him? – he wouldn't have taken Sam's words straight to heart; he wouldn't have let his little brother's words go in one ear and out the other. Instead, he should have listened to Sam and hear him out this time.

Their conversation from several days ago played through Dean's head like a broken record and for the first time since that night, the hunter recalled what Sam really said and really meant.

"If the situations were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing."

"No, Dean, I wouldn't. Same circumstances, I wouldn't."

Same circumstances…Same circumstances. If there were any more important words that were spoken and Dean refused to hear, it was those two words.

And instead, he had told Sam – Sammy – to go to Hell.

As a lone tear snaked down Dean's cheek now, the older brother shook his head frantically as he turned the key in the ignition and the Impala rumbled back to life. With a jerk of the steering wheel and tires squealing, Dean desperately turned the car back around as quickly as possible.

He needed to get back to the bunker. Now.

He needed to get back to Sam. Now.

As Sam's memories and thoughts played through Dean's head as if on a never-ending repeat, he just hoped that he hadn't severed the bond between him and his baby brother so severely that it could never be fixed.

More importantly, he just hoped that Sam didn't take that step that Dean feared he would take.

0000

Sam could feel Castiel's piercing eyes on him as he continued to pretend to be sleeping, but as the minutes passed, the younger Winchester curled his fingers around the gun underneath his pillow once again and the cool metal was like a calming balm to his aching heart.

Screw it all. Sam bit his lip and with his eyes still closed, he finally opened his mouth and spoke,

"I know you know I'm awake, Cas…"

Hearing a sad sigh from behind him and feeling the dip in the bed, Sam kept his back to him even as the angel replied,

"I was hoping I was wrong, Sam."

A pause.

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything," Sam eventually opened his hazel eyes and, not surprised to find that his back no longer was hurting, finally turned around to face his friend. Reluctantly removing his hand from the gun underneath his pillow, Sam sat himself up straighter and looked his friend in the eye,

"I heard everything, Cas. I know…" Unable to stop the tears from escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, Sam choked out,

"I know you showed Dean all…that…"

"Sam, I'm sorry, but I had no choice in the matter-"

"Sure, you did, Cas," Sam's voice broke as he interrupted,

"You had a choice." He looked down at hands and noticed for the first time that he had clenched them into tight fists and his nails were digging into his palms. Sucking in a trembling breath, Sam looked up at his friend and shrugged his shoulders as he continued, his voice not filled with anger or resentment, but with a deep grief and despair,

"It's okay, though-"

"What are you talking about, Sam?"

Ignoring the angel's demand, Sam shrugged his shoulders again,

"It's okay, Cas. You can go now-"

"Why would I leave, Sam?" The angel's brow furrowed as he took in his friend and just from the look in the younger hunter's eyes, Castiel suddenly felt himself fear for the younger man's safety.

Not by the hand of a supernatural creature or another angel this time.

But by his own hand.

"Sam…Don't you dare do what I fear you're thinking of…" He trailed off when he suddenly saw Sam pull his gun out from underneath his pillow. A desperation that he hadn't felt since that day a few weeks ago when he had extracted Gadreel's grace from his friend – the day that Sam wanted to sacrifice himself all over again – suddenly crept into the angel and he growled loud enough for Sam to hear,

"Give me that gun, Sam. Now."

Sam knew Castiel meant to sound intimidating to try and get him to hand it over, but there was nothing left inside of the younger man that felt anything other then pain and hurt, and if he knew that not even Dean's words could get through to him…then the angel sure as hell couldn't,

"You know, ever since Gadreel left me…now that I remember that conversation I had with Death…" Sam lowered his head as he didn't want to see the look in his friend's eyes; the last thing he wanted to see when it came time to use that gun on himself was any type of hurt in Castiel's eyes.

Even if his friend did care about him – and Sam wanted to believe so badly that he did – it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough as long as his brother hated him.

And Dean did hate him.

He saw everything in Sam's head and yet he still chose to walk out on him. That alone was the answer the younger brother had been looking for ever since that night in the kitchen.

That was the silent answer of his silent question…one that he had hoped against hope that Dean knew him well enough to be able to answer without Sam actually asking it.

"Do you still love me?"

"No."

If there was no Dean in his life – no big brother – then what was the point of Sam's life?

"That was never Dean that told me there was no him without me, was it?" Sam continued, still avoiding Castiel's eyes,

"I believed him, Cas…I thought-I thought it was really my brother that wanted me to live…to be alive…but it really wasn't…"

Castiel watched as Sam finally lifted his head to tentatively meet his eyes and the angel was taken aback at the practically dead look in the hazel orbs staring back at him,

"Sam, none of that is true and somewhere deep down you know that," The angel firmly interjected,

"Listen, I don't know whether or not that was really Dean or not-"

"Don't, Cas," Sam shook his head as he climbed off of the bed, tightening his grip on the gun,

"Just don't." He walked around the bed and began pacing the bedroom, running a shaking hand through his long hair.

Rising to his feet as well and standing directly in front of his friend, Castiel shook his head and firmly pressed on,

"Sam, do you not remember our conversation a couple of weeks ago? When I said that there was nothing worth losing you, I meant that. You have so many people here who love you, who care about you, who want you to live. Do not do this, Sam, I'm begging you. Do not do something you will regret-"

"I won't regret it, Cas," Sam interrupted with a shake of his head, all the while ignoring the tears streaking his cheeks and falling off his chin,

"It's what was supposed to happen all those years ago at Cold Oak. It was supposed to happen when I was in the Cage. The trials were supposed to be the end, Cas…and I'm sorry, but…my life isn't worth the hassle anymore. It-It never has been-"

"Now you listen here, Sam Winchester," The angel interrupted, holding out his hand for the gun,

"You're depressed, you're hurt and you believe this is the best answer; you believe that the world will be a better place without you in it, but you're wrong, Sam. I'm not asking that you stop feeling hurt because you have every right to feel that way, but if you just wait and give Dean a chance to make it up to you-"

"He's not coming back," The younger hunter interrupted softly, twirling the gun in his hands,

"He's made his decision…" He held a hand up when Castiel attempted to interrupt,

"I'm not angry anymore, Cas, I just needed to do what needs to be done, so…could you please just leave the room while I-" He was cut short when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around him and Sam bit his lip to keep from crying anymore then he already was. He didn't return the embrace that Castiel was giving him, but he allowed the angel to hug him and listened as his friend spoke firmly.

"I'm begging you here, Sam. Please, do not do this. Just let us help you; just let Dean help you and this can be made right."

"No, it can't," Sam replied, hopelessness showing plainly in his voice and after a couple more seconds, he weakly pulled away from the angel's hold,

"Cas, please, just go…I don't want you to see this. Please, I'm begging you?"

"Sam, I will not leave your side no matter what you choose to do, but I'm hoping that you will reconsider this," Castiel tried one more time to reason with his friend,

"Just give me the gun. That's all I'm asking."

A silence unlike any other fell between the hunter and the angel and for a few hopeful moments, Catiel thought that Sam was going to consider his words; that he would choose life once more instead of death, but the dead look in Sam's eyes was more of an answer then words could ever be.

His thoughts going directly to his brother, one more single tear trailing down his cheek, Sam whispered an agonizing "I'm sorry" – even though he knew Dean couldn't hear it – before pulling the trigger.

0000

Dean didn't let up on the gas as he drove as fast as the Impala would go back to the bunker. Why did he leave in the first place? Why did he allow himself to get so far away from Sam? Okay, so maybe it wasn't that far – he had only been driving for an hour at the most. Cursing himself as he slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel again, Dean knew deep in his soul that it didn't matter how far he had gone – he had still left at a crucial time, at a time when his little brother needed him the most.

He had done exactly what he had accused Sam of just days ago.

He had said "Fuck it" and had taken off without looking back…even after he had been inside of his little brother's head.

Please don't be too late, please don't be too late, He repeated to himself over and over again.

The time was dragging. How much time had passed since he had turned around anyways? Just as the older brother was about to take a look at his watch again, the familiar bunker started to come into view and Dean let out the long breath he had been holding in. Tires squealing, Dean didn't even bother pulling the Impala back into the garage; instead, he just parked her crookedly in the gravel lot near the back door and was out of the car and running to the door as fast as he could – without even bothering to lock her up.

Dean's heart was racing in his chest as he opened the large, heavy door of the bunker and let it slam shut behind him. As he raced down the stairs and made his way back towards Sam's bedroom, a million different images and thoughts were running through his head.

Did he get there in time? Was Sam now awake or was he still asleep – but alive? Or would he find his brother on the brink, about ready to do something he would regret?

"Sammy?!" Dean shouted as he finally neared the door and saw that it was still open. Sucking in a sharp breath and mentally preparing himself, the older Winchester rushed inside, but the first thing he spotted was the empty bed and as he walked further into the room, that's when he saw the back of Castiel, crouched down on the floor…but no Sammy.

"Cas? Where's Sam?" When the angel didn't reply, Dean snapped as he walked closer,

"Damnit, Cas, where is he-" The hunter stopped when he noticed that Castiel was holding something in his arms,

"Cas…?"

"Dean…I tried to stop him…" The angel spoke so quietly, Dean wasn't sure if he could hear him correctly or not,

"I pleaded with him…" Before the older brother could demand exactly what the hell he was talking about – refusing to even consider the fact that the horror images playing on repeat in his head were true – the angel continued, rising slowly to his feet,

"I'm so, so sorry…"

And when Castiel turned around, that's when Dean's worst nightmare came true.

Every horrible image, thought that had ever run through his head whenever Sam was in danger was now staring straight back at him and Dean felt his heart fall to his feet and then shatter into a million pieces.

Because the lifeless body that was being held in Castiel's arms was just that. Lifeless. Covered in blood. The hazel eyes that were staring straight up weren't moving. Sam was not moving.

Dead.

Nononononono, Dean refused to believe that that was even a possibility as he rushed forward and grabbed his baby brother's body from Castiel's arms,

"Sammy!" The dead weight of Sam's body brought the older hunter to his knees and feeling like he was going to start hyperventilating, Dean looked up at the angel who had taken a step backwards and shouted,

"What the fuck did you do, Cas?!" Looking back down at his brother, Dean brought a hand up to feel the spot on Sam's head where the blood was and as he brought his hand back up, he nearly threw up at the sight of his bloody, sticky palm,,

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up, damnit!" With his other hand, Dean smacked Sam's cheeks a couple of times…because Sam was not gone.

He was not dead.

There was no possible way he was dead, damnit!

Unable to hold back the tears as he continued slapping Sam's cheeks, Dean violently shook his brother's body and shouted,

"SAM!"

Grief and guilt filled Castiel as he watched the older brother's reaction and he was unable to take his eyes off of the two – especially the blood pooling out from Sam's head and onto the ground and now covering Dean's clothes. For the first time since he was human, the angel felt a tear fall from his eye and he didn't even bother wiping it away as he continued standing where he was.

He would be lucky if he made it out of here alive and not get killed when this was all said and done.

Because once Dean found out the truth, he would most likely kill him – literally. There would be no stopping his friend.

But who could blame him? He had failed Sam at the worst possible moment; he had failed to talk him out of this and save the life that he considered to be so precious to this world.

And there was nothing anybody could do about it now; after all, Death was the one who had come for him all those months ago while he was in a coma and Sam had requested that he stay dead that time.

And he had seen Death come for his young friend this time around, too.

There was no turning back now; no deals that could be made; no angels to heal him.

Because once Death himself is involved, it's over.

And it was over for Sam…just like Castiel was sure it would be over for Dean, too.

"Sammy, no," Dean's pleas and cries soon tore through the air and Castiel cringed at just the sound of it. The sounds of sobbing was soon the only noise that was heard and torturous minutes ticked by before a loud growl caused the angel to flinch,

"What the fuck, Castiel?!"

"Dean-"

"What the hell did you do, you son of a bitch?" Still cradling his brother's body close to him, not releasing him from his tight grip at all, Death glared hateful daggers at the angel,

"Answer me or I'm going to kill you, right here, right now! What the hell did you do to him?!"

"He believed you hated him, Dean," Castiel whispered, looking the furious big brother straight in the eye,

"When you walked out…Dean, he was awake the entire time I took you inside his mind…He was awake and he heard everything, including you taking off. I tried to stop him, Dean; I tried everything I could think of…but there was no stopping him. Sam's mind was made up, Dean-"

"You could have stopped him, Cas!" Dean shouted as he brought Sam's limp head up and leaned it against his shoulder, attempting to bring him back to life by the power of just his touch alone,

"You could have done that! You could have taken the gun out of his hands! You could have done something, you son of a bitch! And instead, you just stand there and watch him shoot himself?!"

"Dean…It wasn't like that, I wanted to save him so badly, I swear to you-" Castiel was suddenly cut off when Dean was suddenly in his face, angel blade in his hand and pressed up against his throat. Seeing this coming, the angel didn't even attempt to talk the hunter down or try and defend himself this time.

"Get the hell out of here and never come back," Dean growled, a deep, dark hatred present in both his voice and eyes as he pressed the angel blade closer to Castiel's throat,

"Or so help me God, I will shove this into your face next time I see you." Even though understand and tears were shining in Castiel's blue eyes, Dean shouted as loudly as he could,

"GO!"

In one moment, Dean was holding the angel blade up against Castiel's throat and the next, the hunter was alone in Sam's bedroom once again, the sound of the bunker door slamming shut echoing throughout the place. As soon as he was alone once more, Dean knelt down beside the still body of his little brother again and brought him up to his chest, staring straight into the still-open hazel eyes; the last look on his brother's face before he took his own life was that of grief, sorrow and acceptance all rolled into one and Dean couldn't bring himself to look away from those eyes; he couldn't even bring himself to shut them for Sam…because that would mean that it was final, that Sammy was really gone…

And deep down in his gut, Dean knew that that was true.

There was no denying it this time.

Sam was really and truly gone.

Which also meant that Dean was gone, too.

Which meant that Dean wasn't going to be alive much longer.

Because there was no Dean if there was no Sam; Dean knew that from the moment his little brother had been killed for the first time all the way back in Cold Oak and he had sold his own soul to bring him back. He was willing to spend an eternity in the pit if that meant he only got a year left with Sam.

But now…now, there was no turning back; it was over. Sam was gone, dead…and Dean wasn't going to be that far behind him.

"Sammy…" Dean sobbed as he brought his brother's limp body close to him and held onto him tightly as he closed his guilt-ridden, sorrowful eyes,

"Sammy…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, little brother…I should have-I should have…I wasn't there for you, and I'm so sorry…" He opened his eyes and looked down once more at his brother's bloody face – his baby brother who he had sworn to protect at all costs.

At every cost.

And he had failed. He had failed everything he had sworn to himself and to Sam that he would do.

At the most important time, when he should have been there to reassure Sam, to let him know of his love, he had done the most selfish thing possible…leaving Sam with no other option – in his mind at least – then to off himself.

Forever.

And Dean couldn't live with that. He could never live with that.

He had seen just a small handful of those memories through Sam's eyes, and yet had chosen the selfish path when dealing with it.

And that was all on the older brother's shoulders, yet Sam didn't know that when he had taken that gun to his head. He had believed with all his heart and soul that Dean hated him, despised him.

"No," Dean choked out, not bothering to wipe away the tears that flowed freely down his face. With a choked sob, the hunter opened his mouth and let the loudest scream escape his mouth, listening as the sound echoed off the walls of the Men of Letters bunker.

0000

Dean stared down at the lighter he held in one hand and then at salt he had scattered over his brother's body, once more allowing his dead green eyes to travel one last time over the salt line he had laid out over the bunker – more specifically, Sam's bedroom. Clutching Sam's body to him even tighter, the hunter sucked in a long, shaky breath before setting the lighter down briefly to place his hand over Sam's eyes.

Before he shut them, however, he took one last look into the hazel eyes that were staring up at him – the eyes that would no longer look at him with love and forgiveness – and with tears blurring his vision, closed Sam's eyes one final time. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on his baby brother's forehead and whispered into his ear, hoping against hope that wherever Sam was right now, he'd be able to hear him, and understand what he was about to do,

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. I've always loved you, Sammy, I always will."

Picking up the gun that had been lying on the floor since his brother had taken his own life, Dean checked to make sure there was one final bullet and once satisfied, he held it in the same hand he used to cradle Sam's body and picked up the lighter one more time. Without a second thought, the older brother didn't even flinch as he flicked it on and dropped it on the ground beside him, watching as the bedroom erupted into flames, quickly burning everything in its path.

Checking one last time to make sure that he had also covered himself in enough salt, Dean moved the gun back to his left hand, but before he made his final move, the older Winchester took one last look at his brother's face and recalled the time so long ago when their father had placed a crying baby Sammy into his arms.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now, Dean! Go!"

And Dean never did look back; because he never let go of that brother – the one that he loved with all his heart, but never told Sam that enough times, especially as they got older. It wasn't until it was too late – after too much was said and done – that Dean finally realized the extent of how much Sam was hurting, just how much pain he was in – and how far gone he really was.

He had never intended for it to come to all of this, he really didn't; but it was too late. Unless Sam was able to hear the apology he had given his corpse – his body – his little brother never got an apology out of him while he was alive.

And Dean was sorry. He really was and this was the only way he was able to fix things right then and there.

As the flames came closer to them and started to lick at the pant leg of Sam's jeans, Dean tightened the grip he had on the gun and placed it to his head, the same way his brother had done it barely even an hour ago, and without any hesitation, pulled the trigger.

As the older Winchester's body slumped against his brother's, another life quickly taken, the flames continued to burn and within a matter of moments, both hunter's bodies were on fire…burning away in the ultimate hunter's burial. As Sam's room – and the rest of the Men of Letter's bunker – slowly began to burn to the ground, one item on the far side of the room sitting on top of the younger brother's desk remained untouched for a few moments.

The lone picture that Sam had kept there of a 4-year old Dean holding a baby Sammy – the same picture that had been given back to them when they had returned to their childhood home all those years ago in Kansas - smiled back, even as the fire continued to burn away every memory that Sam and Dean had. Before long, the fire finally reached the picture and it didn't take long before the edges caught on fire and there was nothing left.

The End

A/N- Depressing, I know. I normally don't do endings like this, I normally don't go and separate the boys to this extent without some hope at the end, but what can I say? I've been in kind of one of "those" moods lately and decided to just go ahead and do it. I probably won't write something this depressing again for a while, but as a writer who has some sick pleasure of writing painful, emotional stuff, I can't make any promises! Until next time, peeps!