That was it. He had finally done it, and there was nothing he could do now. Sam's lifeless body was lying in his arms and it was all his fault. The woman he had mistakenly fought for left him, and he was left with a mess that should never have happened.

"I'm sorry." He cried as he held Sam close to him.

Nothing more was said, and he left the motel with Sam peacefully in the back seat of the Impala, where he drove fourteen hundred miles to Sioux Falls. Once Dean had finally arrived at Bobby's house, he gave Sam a proper hunters funeral, despite the fact he would have given his soul up again to have him back, he knew Sam would rather have been dead then have that problem all over again.

Dean went inside where he sat on the couch and did nothing for hours. He had something he wanted to do, but wasn't sure if it was the best thing for him at the moment. He wanted Sam back, he really did. His death was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened. Cas was the one person that could get him back free of charge.

His dispute with himself was settled. He had decided he was going to call for Cas, so he got up and walked around the living room for a moment where he thought of what he should say.

"Cas," He started. "I need your help on this one man. I can't do it alone. All of this was a mistake and I need you." Dean choked back the tears before he continued. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you a while back, but I did something that I can't take back, and I just can't fix it this time. Please Cas, if you're listening to me, I need your help."

An hour passed and no sign of Cas came, so he prayed to him, over and over and over, until he finally gave up.

"God Dammit!" Dean cursed. Four hours had passed and still no sign of Cas. He was beginning to feel tired, and weak, and Bobby was nowhere to be found either. Where had Bobby gone to? Dean didn't think too much about where he might be. He was probably on a hunt and would most likely be back in a couple of days, so he turned his mind back to main situation.

He had to face it. He didn't want to, but he had to. Nothing could be done any more and that was that. Sam was gone, and Cas wasn't going to come. Dean laid there on the couch. All he wanted to do at that moment was sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he was flooded with the horrible memories of Sam's death.

He had told Sam how much he hated, and despised him. How bad he wanted to slit his throat, and above all, how he wanted to see his life drain from his eyes, which is exactly what he got. He remembered every little detail. How he charged at his little brother with his eight inch knife, creating a huge gash on his left arm. Sam got him back by cutting him on his right shoulder as he turned around, but that didn't top Dean when he pushed Sam to the floor, and maliciously stabbed him in the heart.

Sam seemed to have come back to reality by then, as did Dean once he finally realized the horrible thing he had done. Sam coughed up blood as he spoke his last words "It's OK, Dean." He tried to say as reassuringly as he could understanding the current situation, but honestly it didn't do much good. Dean looked around at the bloody mess. He tried to stop the bleeding, but Sam's eyes closed, telling him there was nothing more to be done, and then it was over. The Siren got away and his little brother laid there before him.

4 months later

Dean had finally fallen apart. First Jo, now Sam, and not to mention his parents. Bobby had been missing for four months now, and there was no one left to help him. He thought that empty pit in his stomach would have gone away by now, but sadly no; which only made him feel worse. Dean felt alone. The people he had relied on most were gone.

He had already called for Cas about a thousand times already and just like the last nine hundred ninety nine times, he got the same response as always; nothing. But any company now would have done him good, but honestly what was he suppose to do? Go crying to Meg and Crowley?

Dean was just tired of it. He finally decided he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to go, and he wanted a quick way out. This way he could see his family again, and he was going to accomplish it with the one thing he had left that was close to his heart. He grabbed his keys, and took one last look at the mess Bobby called home, but the only place he really ever felt welcomed.

"Sorry Bobby." He whispered as he left the house for the last time.

Dean ran his fingers along the shiny black coat of his 67 Chevy Impala, as he remembered all the good times.

"I'm wanted! (Wanted!) Dead or Alive." He played in his head, remembering how happy Sam was. Dean would have done anything to go back to that day one more time, even if it meant he'd die the next day.

A smile appeared across his face, and a single tear ran down his cheek. He slid into the Impala and put the keys into the ignition. Turning them to the right, he heard the soft purr of his "Baby" as he patted the dashboard and said, "How about one last ride?" At last Dean put it in drive, and drove for what seemed liked hours, until he felt it was time.

"This is it." He thought as he pulled up to an abandoned warehouse and sat two hundred yards away from it. "It's quick and the pain will only last for a second."

He took one last look at the world he knew. The world that he had fought so long and hard for. The world that had given him so many happy memories, but the same world that had cursed him with so much pain. He thought of it as his own personal hell.

Dean stared at death in the face and after a few minutes he floored down on the gas petal.

200 yards, 150 yards, 100 yards, 50 yards. "Here I go." He closed his eyes preparing for the impact to hit, but nothing.

Slowly Dean opened one eye and saw he was back in Bobby's house. Baffled he wondered what he was doing there. "Was this it? Had I done it? Is this Heaven?" He asked himself.

Not until he turned around to get a better view of his surroundings did he realized what had really happened.