Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.

Ten Minutes

The fire had just started to crackle, and Sam found himself reliving a distant memory.

He'd been ten years old and broken his arm in some way that he'd long since forgotten. It hurt, and hurt badly, but by then pain was a part of Sam's life. He remembered Dean sitting next to him in the emergency room, telling him stupid jokes to keep Sam from crying. Sam had noticed the tears that were burning on the edge of Dean's eye that day too, but Sam knew that he'd never allow them to fall.

No, at that moment it wasn't the pain that Sam remembered from that day. It was the poster on the wall that the doctor had asked Sam to look at. The poster had been a pain scale, with five faces on it that exhibited varying degrees of pain. The doctor asked Sam to point to the scale that matched the amount of pain he was in. Sam had thought it stupid at the time, and he still did now.

How did you possibly quantify pain?

Pain was something mysterious, Sam had figured out. While it could be felt, it wasn't something that could be measured. With all the things that Sam had hunted in his life, the properties of pain were something that still escaped his understanding.

Miracle whined next to him, flopping down next to Sam as he watched the pyre burn bigger and taller. Sam loved the dog almost as much as Dean did….

Had, Sam reminded himself. He loved the dog almost as much as Dean had.

Reminding himself to speak of Dean in the past tense from then on was the first time that Sam felt it. The sharp pain that exploded from his heart in that moment seemed to fill every crack and crevice of Sam's being. His already fractured soul seemed to shatter into millions of tiny, indecipherable pieces at that moment. He'd never know how he held himself together at that moment, but he did.

If Sam ever did dare to try to put a number to his pain, at that moment it was a thousand. He wondered if it would ever come down again.

Eight Days

The pain had come down for Sam. It had come down by a minute amount, but still…it was less.

It had been replaced by a heavy, all-encompassing sense of numbness. There were times in the days that had passed that Sam caught himself forgetting to breathe. He would put on Dean's hoodie and almost be able to hear his brother coming around the corner. He found himself cooking breakfast for Dean, then putting the food on the floor for Miracle when he remembered that Dean wasn't coming. He walked into Dean's room, found himself annoyed for a moment that it was so messy, only for the numbness to creep up inside him again and cause him to choke.

Sam took a seat on Dean's bed and looked around. There were directions to a hunt written on a notepad. Sam wondered for a moment if the hunt had been taken care of, then found that he didn't really care. Dean's laundry was in a pile on the floor, and Sam wondered if the clothes had been washed. He thought about picking them up and washing them himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Miracle walked in behind Sam, taking his now usual seat at Sam's feet. He whined slightly, taking Sam out of his recollections and back to reality. He scratched Miracle's ears, something that would have brought him joy years earlier, but that day it brought nothing but a temporary respite from the all-consuming grief.

A phone in Dean's room rang, finally knocking Sam fully back into reality. The world was still spinning, and someone needed help. Mechanically, not thinking about what he was doing and relying solely on muscle memory, answered and accepted the hunt. He packed a bag and headed down the hall, Miracle on his heels, and for the final time ever shut the lights off inside the bunker.

Six Weeks

Dean had been dead for a month and a half, and for the first time, Sam laughed.

He had gone to Eileen after that last hunt, miserable and lonely and confused. Eileen had just secured an apartment for herself, wanting to have a permanent place to take downtime from hunting. She had sent Sam the address a week after Dean's death and had wondered why he had only sent her short texts back. The look on Sam's face had told her all she needed to know-he hadn't gotten cold feet. Something had happened. Something terrible.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

Instead of telling her right away, Sam had started to cry in a way that Eileen had never seen. She'd seen him cry before, but he had always kept his composure. This was different. This was hopelessness, and it rocked Eileen to her core. Slowly, the story came out, and Eileen did the only thing she knew how to do. She took Sam's face in her hands and told him,

"I know you're hurting. But remember one thing. You will never be without a family again. Do you hear me?"

Sam nodded, and he never left Eileen's side again. The pain went away a little more that day.

Four Months

Sam was married.

He and Eileen had eloped. They'd gone to the justice of the peace where Eileen lived and done it in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. Jody had driven to them the night before to attend and be a witness, but she was the only guest invited. The wedding was perfect. Sam had hoped that he wouldn't feel Dean's absence, just for a few minutes, but his wish didn't come true. Throughout the ceremony, he felt as if he was being watched by someone that wasn't there. He could've sworn that he felt a familiar hand clasp his shoulder as he and Eileen walked out of the courthouse and towards their car.

Then, before turning the car on, he spotted him. For only a second, Dean was there. He was standing next to Baby, grinning ear to ear, and he waved. After that, he was gone. Sam felt his heart twinge painfully, before Eileen grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

For the first time in months, Sam felt himself smile back and mean it. Maybe I can do this, Sam thought. He shared another long kiss with his new wife, allowing himself to forget all the pain for a moment and focus on the precious bit of joy his life was giving him.

Two Years

Dean was back. Of that, Sam was sure.

Sam wondered if the baby actually looked like Dean's twin or if it was just wishful thinking on his part. But from his curly hair to his smile to his laugh at the most insignificant little things, Sam saw his brother inside his son every second of every day. That day, Sam had discovered something that startled him. The two-year anniversary of the worst day of his life had passed, and Sam hadn't even remembered.

Not that he'd forgotten Dean. He couldn't do that. Dean was a part of him. Dean had forged the person Sam had become. It was impossible to forget his big brother. But that horrible anniversary day had passed with only happy memories of Dean being brought to the surface. Baby Dean, nicknamed Junior, had spilled a cup onto the floor and Sam had seen his brother smile shyly and shrug his shoulders. Junior had also taken his first steps that day. Eileen sat on one end of the living room, Sam on the other, and Junior marched, slowly but steadily, over to his father. When the seven-foot journey was over, Sam scooped the baby up into his arms and held him tight.

That moment marked the first time that Sam felt safe to take a deep, cleansing breath, one that didn't send sharp spikes into his heart.

One More Day

It was almost over.

Sam had dealt with pain for his entire long life. Now that that life was drawing to a close, he wondered if it was possible to actually not be in pain. What it felt like to actually be free of all that dragged down his heart and soul.

There were things that Sam still hadn't gotten over. He and Eileen had tried to have more children, only to lose them both. Their younger son, named Robert, had been stillborn, and their daughter, named Maura, had been born three months too early and simply was too weak to fight the pneumonia she'd been born with. Junior was thriving but had been hit by a car at age seven and nearly died. Sam still had nightmares that Junior had died after being hit by that car and he was actually all alone, his idyllic life with Eileen all a fantasy he created in his mind. Jody had died years earlier, as well as Donna and a few other hunting friends that Sam had kept in touch with over the years.

Almost the worst of all those tragedies had been Eileen's death. She'd died after a fight where Sam had threatened to leave her and take Junior with him. The last words that had passed between them had been filled with vitriol, and Sam regretted it every day for the rest of his life.

As bad as all that was, there was one thing that still stung. There were days where Sam could think about it and still get on with his life, and there were days where the pain from it crippled him. As he aged and his memory faded, Dean's death continued to remain sharp in his mind. Sam put on a good face for Junior's sake, and sometimes it even helped to cheer Sam up. Even in the lonely days after Junior moved out on his own, Sam focused on his son and filled his life with activities. He became a constant in the lives of his grandchildren, filling his heart once again and serving to put a balm on the open wound in his heart left behind by his brother.

For the last two years of his life, Sam's physical pain had almost been worse than the pain he suffered from Dean's death. He went through one round of treatment in an attempt to be around longer for his son and grandchildren, but the treatment was ultimately a failure. Sam felt guilty for refusing to go through another round of treatment, feeling it selfish not to fight for his life after Dean gave up his for Sam. But it was Junior that convinced him otherwise.

"Dad, you're eighty-five. It's okay. Let's just enjoy the time we've got left."

So enjoy it Sam did. Knowing his time to be active in his family's life was almost over, Sam took his grandchildren everywhere. He wanted their memories of him to be filled with happiness and joy that he hadn't had the privilege of experiencing in his childhood. He wanted them to remember him not as a sick old man, but as someone that loved them with all he had. He just wished he had a way to know for sure that his wish would be granted.

The time came when he was bedridden. He worried the kids would be afraid to be around him then, but instead they had to be forced to go back home. His granddaughter Mary, who was going into middle school the following fall, would come read to him whenever she had free time. His grandson Connor, starting the third grade, would come and talk about anything and everything to Sam, even when Sam was too doped up to really understand what he was talking about.

The kids hadn't been there in a few days, but Sam's condition had deteriorated to the point that he didn't know. He was hallucinating, thinking that he was talking to the kids when he was actually talking to the nurse who came to the house to look after him. There were brief moments of lucidity, but they were coming fewer and farther between.

The afternoon that Sam's finally took his last breath, Dean came back. He talked to Sam for a few minutes, and that was how Sam knew. His time was coming. Dean gave his blessing, telling Sam he'd be waiting for him when he got there. Baby was waiting too, and the two of them would finally be together again.

Be a family again.

When Dean disappeared, Sam was able to breathe again. The pain that had become constant was gone. The heaviness he'd worn his entire life to varying degrees finally lifted. Junior came in a few minutes later, held Sam's hand and told him it was okay.

And it was over.

In a split second, Sam opened his eyes and he was on a bridge. The bridge looked familiar to him, but Sam didn't think he'd ever been there before. Sure enough, there was Baby, and a few feet away, there he was.

Dean.

Other than Dean's affectionate hiya, Sammy, no words were exchanged. Dean simply embraced his brother, and for the first time ever, Sam's soul was back together. He was free of pain, and could finally feel true joy again.

Finis