Author's Note: Don't kill me for what I'm about to do.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Bobby sat on the floor, his back to the wall as he stared across the room. Alice was sitting a few feet away and as silent as Bobby had ever known her to be. It was unsettling, the sudden silence. Before the silence there had been yelling, begging, and cursing loud enough to deafen anyone. He didn't know how long Sam had done CPR for but he knew that Dean's chest was crushed from Sam's efforts. Bobby didn't make a sound as the front door opened and closed quietly, Dr. Fisher moving in through the doorway and pausing at the sight before him.

Sam was sitting in the middle of the room with his back them, hunched over Dean's frame which he was rocking in his lap like a child. Every time Sam rocked, Bobby caught a glimpse of Dean's lifeless face. It was eerie; wrong in such a way that he felt himself balk at the idea that Dean was really gone. But he was. Bobby had wrestled Sam away from Dean just so he could see for himself. Sam had clawed his way back to Dean; pushing, punching, and fighting like he wrestling with Hell itself. Maybe because life without Dean was Sam's Hell.

"You're not taking him," Sam snapped loudly, his frame folding around Dean even more.

Dr. Fisher shifted before leaning down next to Bobby. "Anything I can do," he asked quietly. He hadn't been surprised when Bobby had called him; he hadn't been able to get the words out, but Fisher had known what had happened. It was the only scenario that could have left Bobby speechless.

Bobby shook his head and with a gruff, tight voice managed to mutter, "We'll take care of him."

Fisher placed a small sympathetic pat on his shoulder before turning to leave. He slipped out the door and the silence once again filled the house. They stayed there all day, silent and still except for Sam's constant rocking. It was after dark when the thunder began, rain falling heavily on the roof. The house was dark while occasional lightning flashes illuminating the silhouette of Sam still rocking Dean. The sight of it sent shivers up Bobby's spine. He had spent plenty of nights drinking his way through nightmares of losing the boys but none of them came to close to this. This was real. Not a nightmare he could wake from and drown in a bottle or six. He was surprised to feel water on his hand, another tear that had snuck out while he wasn't paying attention. He rubbed his eyes in the dark, glancing over at Alice. He could see the ruby glow in her eyes, unblinking and bright, and knew she was a million miles away. She had helped to raise John's boys, in her own way. She'd fight for them or with them, but always for their betterment.

Bobby adjusted his cap again and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He knew it would be awhile before he'd get any decent sleep. Between the nightmarish sight before him and Sam being as grief stricken as Bobby had ever seen him, he knew it was only the beginning of a long process. First being putting Dean to rest; the kid deserved some peace, even if only in death. He wasn't sure how to get Sam to let Dean loose but he knew Sam was likely to break in the process. For all his years of having the answers, this time Bobby knew he wasn't prepared.

Alice woke to sunlight pouring through the window; the floor under her was cool and unforgivingly hard. Her bones ached, reminding her of how old she truly was. The strong smell of coffee told her Bobby was awake somewhere around the house. She pulled herself into a kneeling position and looked at Sam. He was staring blankly at the clock on the wall; undoubtedly wondering how to turn back time.

Alice moved toward Sam. He wasn't rocking anymore but he was still protectively hanging onto Dean. "Sam?"

Startled by her voice, he jumped, instinctively tightening his hold on his brother's body.

"Sam, you have to let go," she said as she placed a hand on his arm.

Sam turned his face from her, vigorously shaking his head in disagreement.

"Sam—"

"Don't touch me! You've not taking him," he roared angrily as he clutched Dean and cast a look over his shoulder at her. The sheer hatred in his gaze was enough to make her take a step back.

"Okay Sam," she mumbled before heading towards the coffee.

She slipped out the back door with a steaming mug in her hand and walked barefoot across the yard to the garage. The house had been quiet but noises from the yard led her to a small wooded lot behind the junkyard. She picked her way through the small saplings and into a small clearing before she came to an abrupt halt.

The unlit funeral pyre that loomed ahead made her stomach turn.

Bobby knew she was there, but he kept on working at rolling the logs into place. The axe's rough handle had already torn the skin from his palms and his fingers were raw from the rough bark. This was becoming more and more a nightmare he couldn't wake from. He wanted Dean back. He wanted Sam to stop rocking a corpse in his house. He wanted Alice to stop staring at the pyre with horror on her face. Putting Dean to rest was all he could do and it wasn't enough. It wasn't going to help anyone. Dean had been stolen away and yet he remained with them. It wasn't fair.

Bobby lobbed the axe next the pile of broken branches and took a deep breath. "How did Sam look?"

Alice couldn't stop staring at the unlit pyre. "Like a rabid dog with a bone."

"He has to let us do this," Bobby said as he went back to rolling logs into place.

"There is no way Sam is going to let you burn Dean's body," Alice exclaimed, her face instantly hot. "You know that! I don't know why the hell you're out here building this thing anyway!"

Bobby threw a branch to the ground. "Because what the hell else can I do?!"

"Get him back! You can get him back," Alice argued. She knew it was unfair to put that on him, but she needed Dean back. They all did.

"How? How the hell do I get him back? Sell my soul? Yours too maybe? We'll just add Sam's to sweeten the pot!"

Alice felt the heat creeping up on her, sweat breaking out over her skin. Right then, she didn't care if she burned down the whole damn salvage yard. "Why not?"

Bobby looked at her in surprise, the words heavily hanging between them.

"You know why," he said, his voice low and angry. "He wouldn't want that."

"He'd be alive! He'd want that!"

"No he wouldn't," Bobby roared. "You know that. Not if it meant he'd be living with the fact that we sold our souls to get him back! That kind of guilt isn't living!"

"But—"

"No Alice! You weren't around when John died," Bobby snapped angrily. "John sold his soul to get Dean back. John went to Hell for that boy and it nearly killed Dean to know that! You weren't around when Dean would call me in the middle of the night, sobbing, begging me to find a way to trade his life for John's. Now John may have done a good thing bringing him back, but Dean had to carry that around every damn day! How do you think Dean would take it if he found out we did the same thing?!"

Alice grew quiet for a few minutes before speaking. "I wasn't here. You're right. But I do know."

Bobby leaned against the axe and waited.

"You know Dean called me. More than once, asking me to do the same thing, to find him a way to get John back."

"There wasn't a way."

"Sure there was," Alice argued. "We could have found something. There's always something for people like us."

Bobby turned and stared at her. "And that is exactly why I have ownership of your damn soul, ya damn idjit! I'd have taken Sam's and Dean's if I could have. Everyone around here is so damn quick to sell themselves to Hell!"

"Because it works Bobby!"

"Only if you're a complete idjit," he huffed as he stormed back toward the garage. "We're not going to let Sam sell his soul."

Alice followed him into the garage and set her coffee cup on the hood of the Impala before yanking open the small fridge Bobby kept out in the garage. Without even a glance inside, she slammed it shut and turned to Bobby. "So what are we supposed to do?"

He leaned against the Impala and sighed with a shrug. "Help Sam. Let him grieve. And that has to start with him letting go of Dean's body."

"That's not going to happen."

"It has to! He can't just keep rocking Dean's body back and forth on my rug. It's morbid! If we don't do anything, Sam's just going to follow after him by sheer force of will. I've seen it before."

Alice brushed her hair out of her face and frowned. She wasn't ready to fight with Sam. "I'm guessing you have a plan?"

"You think I got up at dark thirty to build a pyre without a plan," Bobby scoffed as he started walking toward the house. "I've been having this nightmare since John started training them. I've been over this scenario a dozen times since John made his deal and left those two on their own."

Alice caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. She stared at him, the ruby glow in her eyes barely noticeable in the morning light. "I'm not ready."

He nodded. "None of us are."

"I'm angry," she said as her throat tightened, tears pricking her eyes.

He nodded again, this time looking her in the eye. "Get rid of it. For Sam's sake, get rid of it."

###

Sam didn't move when Bobby eased in front of him, but the sound of glasses clinking together made Sam open his eyes. He distrustfully eyed Bobby; his grip on Dean was firm. Bobby didn't look at Sam, just filled both glasses before setting one on the floor, nudging it across the rug until it was within reach of Sam.

Bobby set the bottle between them quietly, looking at the two boys. He knew the memory wouldn't ever leave him. He glanced at Dean, his skin just as pale and waxy, his eyes partially open and the dull green that could be seen made Bobby's stomach turn over. He had seen plenty of dead hunters before. He had held several as they had died, sometimes trying to save to them, sometimes just comforting them as the inevitable happened.

He knew Sam wasn't ready to give Dean to him and even if he did, Bobby wasn't ready to take him. Sam giving him up meant preparing him for the pyre. Bobby emptied his glass before refilling it. He'd be drunk before Alice came back in. He half expected her to just disappear, barefooted and seething with anger at the world. She had lost a lot of people.

The dull thud of clanging metal outside caught his ears, as well as the loud cursing and occasional Latin that seemed thrown in good measure. He shook his head in tired defeat. Whatever car she was beating to death wouldn't stand a chance against her rage.

His impromptu wake for Dean was turning into a long day.

####

It was early afternoon when Alice dropped on the couch and reached for the near empty bottle on the floor. Bobby didn't say anything when the bottle reappeared by his side empty.

"Feeling better?"

"No, but I'm too sore to keep it up," she muttered. Bobby looked over his shoulder and shook his head. She was coated in sweat and her unruly reddish hair had escaped its braid. Her hands were bloody and knuckles skinned.

"You look like crap warmed over."

"You should see the car," she said as she eased off the couch onto the floor next to him. Sam was still sitting there, sound asleep from exhaustion, his hands still cradling Dean's corpse. Dark rings rimmed his eyes, his skin dry and pale. "He hasn't budged, has he?"

"No," Bobby said gruffly. "We're going to have to make this happen. Get me another bottle from my desk."

"Just drink Sam's. He's not going to drink it," Alice said as she climbed from the floor, aching as she did.

"That's not the point," he mumbled. "Just get it."

Alice grabbed another glass and the bottle before settling back on the floor with Bobby. He poured them each a glass before motioning to the boys. "I don't know how we're ever going to not see this when we close our eyes at night."

She nodded, her eyes glued to Dean. "I've had nightmares like this for years. They used to be about when Dean was possessed by that Wendigo spirit. That he was running toward me, howling like some sort of wild animal."

"What happened?"

"I'd always wake to find the coyotes howling on the range nearby. Guess the sound just conjured up the image."

Bobby nodded. "For me, it's the smell of hospital disinfectant. I can't tell you how many times I've had to pick one or both of them up from some hospital. The worst was when I had to pick up Dean from the hospital after John died. We had just gone through nearly losing Dean, only to lose John instead. He wasn't talking to anyone; I think he was just in shock over what happened. We couldn't get him out of there fast enough."

"We're getting old Singer," Alice said as she tipped her glass. "To old to keep burying our friends."

"Speaking of which," Bobby muttered as he leaned towards Sam, gently tapping his foot. "Sam, wake up."

Sam's eyes opened slowly, but his reflex to hold Dean was on point. He stared at Bobby before looking at Alice. "We have to get him back."

Bobby just pointed to the glass by Sam's foot. "Let's have a drink before we talk about this."

Sam shook his head, urgency in his voice. "He's not gone. Not for good. We can get him back!"

"We'll talk about it later," Bobby repeated.

"We can find a cross roads demon," Sam said loudly, his voice verging on begging. "He's coming back."

Bobby lifted his glass and motioned to Sam and Alice. "We've all had a long night and a long day. We're not talking about anything until we're properly hung over."

Alice picked up her glass and knocked it back. "Go on Sam."

With a shaking hand, Sam picked up his glass and emptied it, frowning at the bitterness. Bobby refilled all the glasses and motioned for them to drink again. After the third round, Bobby left the room. He couldn't look at Sam holding Dean anymore. Alice's grip on the bottle remained firm; Sam's eyes becoming more and more bloodshot as the weight of the day crushed him. "He's not gone… I'm going to get him back."

Alice shook her head. "Sam….we can't go after him."

"Why not?" Sam's hands were visibly shaking now as he tried to lift the glass. His vision was beginning to blur around the edges as he tried to look at Alice. The reddish burn in her eyes unnerved him but he couldn't look away.

Alice shrugged, tired and emotionally exhausted. "We just can't Sam."

He was starting to sway ever so slightly as he reached for the bottle. His voice slurred slightly as he angrily said, "Won't….you're saying you won't."

Alice tipped her head, watching him. He was having a hard time pouring the whiskey into his glass, his hand unsteady as he stared blankly at the glass. "Sam? Are you okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong with him," Bobby said softly from the doorway. "That's just what happens… a side effect."

Alice looked questioningly at him before holding up the bottle to the light and giving it a swirl.

"It was in his glass, not the bottle," Bobby muttered as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his head tipped low. "I can handle you drunk and miserable, but Sam…well, Sam's going to take a little break."

####

Sam felt himself slipping. His grip on Dean relaxed as his own muscles stopped listening to him. Hands on his shoulders and one behind his head were gentle but firm as he felt the room tilt. He knew Bobby was saying his name, but Sam was too busy trying to regain his hold on Dean.

"Let me go," he slurred. "I can fix this. Give him to me!"

He looked up at Bobby, tears streaking down his face as he tried to fight the darkness that was creeping into his vision. "Please Bobby."

He felt more than heard the wounded sigh from Bobby but he felt Dean's hand laid into his own. He drunkenly turned his head and saw Dean next to him on the floor. His once vibrant green eyes were now dull and lifeless. Sam tried to call his name, but found that his own body was no longer listening to him. He could barely make out the silhouette of someone kneeling next to Dean, eyes burning bright. Alice.

He gripped Dean's hand tight and cried out, trying to resist the darkness that would steal him away from Dean.

####

Alice watched as Sam fought the drugs Bobby has laced his drink with. "I thought you were the one always bitching at everyone about not mixing booze with drugs."

Bobby didn't look away from Sam. "You think he was going to just drink a glass of water and take a pill because I asked him too? It would have been to bitter in water anyhow, he'd have picked up on it with the first sip."

They waited patiently until Sam's vision seems to glaze over, tears still sneaking down his cheeks. When his grip on Dean's hand loosened, Alice moved to get up.

"No, you stay here with Sam. I'll take care of Dean," Bobby said as he moved into the room. He stepped carefully over Sam and lifted Dean. It didn't matter how big the boys had gotten, somehow they were never too big for Bobby to carry. Alice watched as Bobby maneuvered Dean through the doorway, disappearing down the hallway. She wanted to go after them but knew Bobby needed his own time to say goodbye. She grabbed the bottle from the rug and leaned back against the couch, Sam lying at her feet. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes opening and closing slowly as he was forced to lay still until the drugs burned out his system. Alice angrily tossed the bottle cap across the room, striking the clock on the wall. She wasn't building the pyre, she wasn't bringing Dean back, and she couldn't fix Sam. If he didn't mourn himself to death, he'd always be a suicide risk in her mind. It was only a matter of time. Sam and Dean couldn't live without the other. The realization that she would lose both boys made her take another swig from the bottle. And then another.

####

Across the house, Bobby was preparing Dean for the pyre. He had done it so many times over the years he had lost count of how many bodies he had meticulously cleaned and wrapped in linen. Wounds were always stitched closed and wiped clean. Once or twice over the years, he had even stitched coins in mouths or laid them on eyes. Tattoos had been cut through or even burned off; if it meant releasing their soul.

It was a ritual that was never quite the same.

This time the routine was simple. Dean's body bore no wounds he could tend, no marks to remove. Once Dean was cleaned and wrapped in linen, Bobby took a step back and let out a shaky breath as he sank into the chair in the corner. He wasn't ready. They never would be and he damn well knew it. But that didn't make it right to deny Dean a burial. The longer his body was left, the more they ran the risk of possession. And that wasn't even taking into consideration that Fisher would have his hide for leaving a body untended.

####

The room was moon lit when Alice managed to peel herself off the couch and stagger down the hallway. She bumped in the bookcase and apologized before realizing it wasn't Bobby. She drunkenly peered around, wondering where Bobby was. She knew Sam was still on the floor only because she had tripped over him.

She pulled open the fridge and cursed as the bright light caused her head to explode. She slammed it shut just as Bobby walked into the room and flipped on the light. "Jesus, Bobby! Kill the lights," she tried to whisper as she bumped into the table.

"Sit your ass down," he said as he moved toward the stove. "Did you fall on your way out here?"

"I might have tripped over Sam," she muttered as she buried her face in her arms.

"I thought I heard you apologizing to him. He can't hear you right now, ya idjit."

"I wasn't talking to him. I was talking to the bookcase."

"Not a good drunk, are you?"

"…I thought it was you."

"Not good about lying either, huh?"

"Dammit Bobby, I'm not proud of myself right now," she snapped. "And don't talk so loud."

Bobby chuckled slightly. "I'll make you some coffee. How much did you drink?"

"Not enough. I was going for black out drunk."

"Looks like you came up a little short," he muttered as he put the pot on the stove and sat down across from her. They sat quietly for a few minutes while the coffee brewed, the smell was familiar and comforting. She rolled her head and peered out from underneath her hair. Bobby caught her red gaze staring at him. "What?"

"Did you do it?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, he's wrapped up."

"You didn't want any help?"

"No, Alice. I didn't. I just want to get this over with."

"When do you want to do it," Alice asked, trying to keep her voice down. She knew Sam wouldn't be awake for a few more hours to hear her, but just saying it made her shiver.

"I was thinking about dawn if we could get Sam to agree to it," Bobby mumbled as he set a cup of coffee in front of her.

"You don't think we should wait," she asked as she pushed the coffee away with a frown.

"For what? Sam to forgo asking our advice and going on a cross country binge to find a demon to make a deal with," Bobby said with a firm shake of his head. "No, we need to get this done. That body is going to attract anything in the area looking for a meat suit."

"That is Dean," Alice snapped as she pushed herself up from the table. "Don't talk about him like he's just some random hunter. You helped to raise him!"

Bobby slid the coffee back across the table to her, a warning in his voice and anger in his eyes. "You're damn right I did. Now sober up and knock it off before you end up sleeping it off out in the garage."

Alice ignored the steaming cup and slowly staggered out of the room. She wasn't going to give up the numbing drunkenness yet. She wasn't ready to feel everything, nor to be civil about burning Dean's body. She wanted someone to fight, something to kill.

She was standing over his body before she even realized it. The linen seemed to glow in the dim moonlight that filled the room. With a little hesitation she laid a hand on his chest. She moved it slowly over his heart, praying to an absent God to make it come to life and end the nightmare they were living.

Tears she had been holding back finally came, dotting the linen as they fell.

####

It was near dawn when Bobby walked back into the room to find Alice curled up on the bed next to Dean's prepared body, one of her hands laying idly over his still heart; dried tears staining her face. He stood there for a minute, wondering if John had ever thought of Alice burying his sons. They had fought openly for years and John had hidden from her for just as many. But he had to have known she'd outlive all of them; maybe it had been his plan so the boys wouldn't have to be alone.

He gently shook her shoulder. "Alice, wake up. We've got to talk to Sam."

She groaned at the noise but followed him down the hallway, one hand trailing the wall as she did. "Just kill me know. Don't suppose you have anything for a major hangover?"

"Coffee and a bit of the ol' hair of the dog might do the trick," he said as he pointed toward the kitchen. "Don't overdue it."

She grunted and veered into the kitchen while Bobby hauled Sam into a sitting position against the couch. "Sam, wake up."

Sam's head pounded as he tried to fight through the grogginess. "Where's Dean?"

Bobby sighed, this wasn't a good start. "Sam, you know where he is. I've got him cleaned and wrapped up. We need to finish this, today. Now."

"We're going to get him back! I'm going to get him back!"

"No, we're not Sam," Alice said as she slowly walked into the room with a cup of coffee that reeked of whiskey.

Sam's face crumbled. "Don't say that! I want him! Where is he?!"

Bobby grabbed Sam under his arms and hauled him to his feet. "I'll show you."

"Bobby—," Alice warned. "Don't."

He ignored her and propelled Sam down the hallway. The closer they got to the open door at the end of the hallway, the more Sam fought him. With his hands firmly on Sam's arms, Bobby forced him through the doorway. As the linen wrapped figure came into view, Sam started pushing back against Bobby, desperate to be away. Bobby kept on pushing until Sam was standing over Dean's wrapped body. "This is Dean, Sam. He's right here and he needs us to give him some dignity in death, keeping his body ain't right!"

"Neither is burning him! He's going to need a body when he comes back!"

"Sam…he's not coming back," Bobby said, his shoulders drooping, the words heavy in the air.

"Why can't we just make a deal?"

"Because it's wrong," Alice said from the doorway. "And Dean wouldn't want us to. Trust me Sam. Me and Bobby, we want him back too. But it's wrong." The words seemed hypocritical and bitter in her mouth, but right then she'd have said anything to keep Sam from following after Dean.

"Sam…we're doing this. Today. Go do whatever you need to. Get a shower, get drunk, or go hit something. But in an hour, we're doing what has to be done."

Next chapter will be up soon.

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