Author's Note:

At the risk of sounding overly cruel, thank you to those of you who said the last chapter made them cry! That's actually really encouraging to me, so I greatly appreciate it.

Thanks to The Real Garth Vader, .5, Acidspades, Katlover98, Rose0, SPN Mum, and ToxicTenshi for their reviews on chapter 6!

Chapter 7 - Something To Write Home About

Dear Dean,

I can't figure out how to start this letter. If Bobby read his first, then you'll already know why I'm writing in the first place, but if he didn't, then I don't want to just hit you with a massive revelation from the beginning. There's no helping it, I suppose. If you got this package, then you should have found the laptop and some instructions about how to find all of my guns and supplies. I didn't want to risk sending that stuff in the mail, obviously. You might have also found your amulet, which I've been holding onto for you. If I didn't include it, then I'm probably still wearing it, which means I either couldn't quite convince myself to take it off, or I wasn't sure my plan would work and didn't want to risk losing it. Dean, I'm writing because, unless I screwed up somehow, I'll be dead when you read this.

I imagine that'll probably piss you off. I promise I'm not checking out on you or anything like that. This isn't about me, it's about everyone else. You're supposed to stop Lucifer. Before I set him free, that meant stopping me, and I'm sorry I fought you on that. Now though, stopping Lucifer will be ten times harder if you have to stop me as well, because he'll be far more powerful if he manages to get a hold of his true vessel. Obviously I'm not planning to say yes, but Lucifer has been trying to wear me down, and I don't want to give him a chance to succeed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was coming to me in my dreams. It's not like you could have done anything, so I didn't want to add more to your stack of things to be worried about.

So, assuming I succeeded, Lucifer can't use me anymore. The plan is to use some kind of permanent death curse, or enchantment. Whatever I can find that will prevent him from resurrecting me. You shouldn't get this in error. All the other times Lucifer brought me back, I'd only been dead a few hours, so I set up an e-mail to go to the post office if I don't disable it at a certain time every day. If the box got delivered, then hopefully all went according to plan.

Now, here's what I really want to say. I'm hoping that since this is a letter you'll be a captive audience and really hear what I'm trying to say. Write. Whatever. I'm sorry about last year. I know I keep saying it, but this isn't like me trying to get out of responsibility by brushing everything off with an apology. I'm genuinely sorry, Dean. I was wrong. I hope that by doing this for you, taking away Lucifer's vessel from him, I'll have earned your forgiveness. I know you lost your faith in me, and I wish I could have been the support you needed. I'm not sure if it makes a difference, but I wanted you to know that my memories in Heaven weren't my greatest hits. I think Heaven was trying to show me that I didn't belong. Passive aggressive warfare, maybe. All of those memories were times I was temporarily happy for one reason or another, but I was also cripplingly upset about something leading up to that event. Like the night I left. I was so happy to have my scholarship and acceptance letter, so happy to be going to school, but I was so upset about the argument with Dad that it felt like I could barely move. I just need you to understand that my best memories are not about leaving you. I hope that helps. I'd give anything to see your faith restored.

Kick his ass for me, Dean. You and Cas make a great team, and I know you'll beat the Devil. Take care of Cas for me, please. I don't have anything to worry about if you two watch each other's backs. Also, because I have to say it, even if I know you'd give me grief for it, I love you, jerk.

Good Luck.

Sam

Dean was gripping the paper so tightly he might have put puncture wounds in it with his fingernails. He wasn't aware enough to check. How the hell had he and Sam gotten so far apart that this was what their relationship had been reduced to? He could appreciate Sam's desire to redeem himself after the Ruby debacle, but there was something seriously wrong if he had thought the best way to redeem himself was to take himself out of the picture entirely!

There was also the strong implication that Sam had already tried killing himself multiple times before this, not just since they'd taken the second break. Dean couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Sam had tried to kill himself and still managed to act like nothing was wrong. The fact that they hadn't talked about how Lucifer was impacting Sam weighed heavily on Dean. He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault for not paying closer and more caring attention to his brother. He'd let their fighting get in the way of everything else, to the point where he didn't even know that Sam was being pursued by Lucifer every night.

Dean was suddenly struck by an overwhelming desire to go into the bathroom and just hold his brother's prone form, apologizing to the still body for all the ways in which Dean had failed. It figured that he didn't realize how badly he'd screwed up until there was nothing he could do to fix it. He tried to remind himself that Sam had made mistakes too. Trust is a two way street, and just because Dean had messed up on his end didn't mean all the blame was on him. Somehow, though, that didn't seem to matter. Dean couldn't find any of his previous anger or resentment towards Sam anywhere in himself. The old cliche "you never know what you have until it's gone" popped into his head, and Dean felt conflicting urges to laugh at the thought and punch a wall in anger.

A choked off sound from the corner alerted Dean to Castiel's presence again, and he looked over to see Castiel gripping the door frame for support.

Dear Castiel,

I almost didn't write you a letter, because I couldn't decide what to say. I actually re-wrote this after you came to my dream, since I realized I had different things to say now. This letter used to be a lot longer and more formal, but I realized that none of it was what I actually needed to say. You already know why I'm writing. If you got this letter, then I succeeded, and Lucifer will no longer be able to use his true vessel. I know you didn't want me to do this, but I had to. You and Dean actually have a chance now, and that's all that matters. Dean has to save the world, and you have to protect him.

Thank you for telling me about Zachariah. I thought about re-writing Dean's letter to take that into account, but I decided it didn't really matter. I mean, suicides don't go to Heaven, right? Regardless, the fact that you bothered to tell me meant a lot. Everything you said, actually. The stuff about my soul, and how you value my friendship. I was so discouraged for so long because I was the one Heaven wanted dead, not the one they needed. The fact that that isn't true for you means more than I can say.

Because I'm not sure I would ever have said this if I was still there, I wanted to tell you that you mean a lot to me too, Cas. I care about you more than I have any right to, given that you're an angel of the Lord. Still, I wanted you to know. Please, take care of Dean for me, and I know he'll take care of you. Stop the apocalypse and save the world. I know you and Dean have struggled with faith recently, but I want you both to remember that I have always had faith in both of you.

Castiel, I love you. I needed you to know that. Thank you for not giving up on me.

Sam

Castiel gripped the door frame for support, feeling weak as he processed the words in the letter. Reading about how Sam viewed them from his perspective threw Castiel's own feelings into an entirely new light. Was everything he had felt for and about the younger Winchester love? The more he thought about it in that light, the more dense he felt for not interpreting it that way earlier. He supposed his relatively new introduction to human emotion was to blame, but he couldn't help but feel cheated that Sam was no longer here to share in the discovery with him.

Dean was behind him again, his own letter gripped tightly. "You, ah, you okay?" He managed to ask gruffly.

"Not particularly," Castiel answered honestly. "I do not know what to do."

"Me either," Dean admitted. "Everything in me is screaming at me to find a way to bring him back, but..."

"Sam would be furious," Castiel finished.

"Yeah," Dean agreed grimly. "Just...god, Cas, how did it come to this? That this was the best plan he had?"

Castiel sighed, his eyes stinging in an unfamiliar sensation. "I understand," he commented reluctantly. "I am so far from accepting of what he chose to do, but I understand why."

"I do too," Dean reluctantly agreed. "I hate it, but I get it."

They were silent for a moment, both unable to move away from the bathroom and Sam's lifeless body.

"Now what?" Dean finally asked. "Sam's parting charge to me was to stop Lucifer. How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"We will find a way," Castiel said firmly. "We will make something of his sacrifice."

Dean leaned against the wall and let his head fall back against it. "Cas, how am I meant to focus on saving the world when I couldn't get my head out of my own ass far enough to save my own brother?"

Castiel didn't have a response for that, and they lapsed back into silence.

"Should we...?" Castiel began to suggest, knowing that Sam would have wanted his body salted and burned, to prevent any future risk of haunting.

"I can't yet," Dean said quietly.

Castiel merely nodded. The thought of finalizing Sam's death in such a way was abhorrent to him, but he couldn't think of what else to do. Simply standing around wasn't going to accomplish anything. If he truly loved Sam as he had decided he did, then he should be following Sam's wishes. Namely, taking care of Dean and stopping Lucifer. Easier said than done.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the thought died immediately as Sam's body suddenly seized violently, falling into a crumpled position on the floor and twitching harshly before coming to an abrupt stop, leaving him deadly still once more.

Castiel and Dean were both frozen in shock, but Dean came out of it first. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" He yelled, pushing past Castiel to hold two fingers to his brother's neck, hunting for a pulse.

"Is he...?" Castiel couldn't finish the sentence, but his eyes were wide.

Dean turned back to Castiel with pure shock on his face. "Cas, he's got a pulse."

Sam couldn't figure out why he was aware, but not awake. He should be dead, he was sure of that, but somehow he wasn't.

"Sorry about the wait," Lucifer announced casually. "That poison you used was a bitch to work around. Points for creativity."

Sam let his head fall back and he closed his eyes with a moan. "Dammit."

"I will always bring you back, Sam," Lucifer scolded him. "Sometimes it may take me longer, but I'll always bring you back."

"Why am I not awake then?" Sam questioned. "You usually just wake me back up like nothing happened."

Lucifer slowly smiled at him, like a predator at his prey. "I brought you back, Sam. I never promised to always wake you up. After all, you can say yes just as easily trapped in your mind as you can while awake, and this way I don't have to relinquish you to our brothers."

Sam fought against the pang that burst through his chest at the mention of Dean and Castiel, scowling at Lucifer instead. "You really think I'll change my mind just because you put me in a coma?" He asked derisively.

Lucifer chuckled. "I can be very creative, Sam, especially with unfettered access to you whenever I want."

Sam felt cold, and he shook his head at Lucifer. "I'll never give in," he warned him.

"You will," Lucifer promised.