A/n:WARNING SPOILER ALERT for season 2 and 3

Sorry it took me so long to finish. I don't know if it's just a fan thing or if it's actually part of the show, but I've read and heard that the day Sam dies back in season 2 is supposedly his birthday,which would mean Dean then went to Hell on Sam's birthday the following year. Again, I don't know if that's true, but I've decided to go with it.

Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, and/or favorites this. A special Thank you to LilyBolt, miXiZ, jojospn, and guest.

It's the birthday he wishes he could reset.

He knows exactly why he's talked himself into it.

"It'll numb the pain," he tells himself.

At the stroke of midnight, his world had once again come crashing down on him. There was no bouncing back this time. He had had something sturdy to lean on, rather, someone sturdy, when he lost Jess. Dean had been there to catch him when he fell. To cheer him up when he needed it, to keep his mind busy and his heart light. Then their father passed away. Sam's sturdy brother had fallen slightly from under him and it had been Sam's turn to be the support beam.

Last year his birthday had ironically also been the day of his death. Dean had given him the best gift he could possibly ever give his baby brother, his life back. But in doing so, Sam had learned that Dean's was on the line. His soul for Sam's life. He had spent the remainder of that year desperately looking for a way to save him, despite his brother's constant demands to leave it alone. Even after all the effort, all the hours spent, all the blood, sweat, and tears Sam put into it, he couldn't save him.

Sam doesn't even bother with going to a bar. He just wonders into a 24/7 convenient store, and drags himself to stand in front of the alcohol, and stares at it. When he moves again, he opens the door and snatches up two of the biggest bottles of whiskey he can find, and places them on the counter. The man standing behind the counter, who doesn't look much older than Sam himself, gives him a look that suggests that he's not sure what to make of the scene before him. He works the graveyard shift in an area where he wouldn't normally be out walking around if he had the option, so he had seen quite a few things that were disturbing in his time and a giant man with puffy glossy red eyes that seemed blank who was covered in what was unmistakably blood and dirt purchasing alcohol at 3:57 in the morning, couldn't be good news.

"This all for you?" The clerk asks Sam.

"For now," the young man says in a low monotone voice.

"You got it," the clerk rings him up and tells him the total. Sam pulls out a wade of cash and tosses it on the counter before taking up his bottles, not even bothering to stay around to collect the $34 dollars in change.

That money was money he had earned not too long ago when he hussled pool at a local dive with his brother. He had claimed it would be their victory money when Dean wasn't dragged off to Hell, which Sam had been so sure would be the outcome.

With there being no victory, it went to numbing.

Barely out of the liquor store, Sam has one of the bottles open and to his lips with his head back as he chugs the whiskey. When he's done, he tosses the un-opened one in the back and climbs into the car. Sam takes another long drink and then pulls away again as the morning comes back to him.

OOO

All that blood. Everywhere. His brother laying motionless on the floor of a stranger's home, his chest ripped to ribbons. Dean's eyes which had always been so full of life, were lifeless and cold, like the rest of him as they stared pass his brother. Sam couldn't speak save for the words "no" and "Dean." He picked him up so that he cradled him from head to torso, tears falling uncontrollably as he sobbed. Bobby allowed Sam to sit like that for awhile, giving the boy time to grieve over the loss of his older brother. In the meantime, he too allowed tears to trickle from his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

Finally, the old hunter approached the young man, the sole Winchester, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder and calling out to him.

"Sam, I'm sorry son, but we gotta go." He said in a gentle manner. Sam continued to hold onto his brother tight, as though he were a security blanket that a parent was trying to pull away from a child. He didn't say anything, just continued to hold his sibling and sob. Bobby tried again."Sam, come on."

"No!" The young man shouted, pulling his arm free of his friend. The older man flinched but stayed firm when he spoke again.

"Sam we have to get out'a here. Now, let me help you carry Dean."

"No," he said again but this time it was quieter. His puffy red swollen eyes stayed on Dean. "No, I'll carry him myself." With that Sam gently lifted his brother up so he could get his legs out to stand up. The first time he did so, they wobbled causing him to almost fall to the floor. Bobby caught his arm and helped to steady him.

"Maybe I should-"

"No, I've got him," Sam insisted. Bobby released his hand and Sam stooped down to pull his brother into a fireman' s carry. They made their way down the stairs and out the door, where Sam stopped short. Bobby having noticed stopped too and looked over at the young man.

"What?"

Sam looked from the Impala to his old friend.

"He would kill me if I got blood all over her," he said simply. It seemed so stupid to say. How many times had they both crawled into the Impala bloody? But even then, Sam knew Dean didn't like it. He sometimes caught his big brother cussing under his breath while he scrubbed at the seats with a wet washcloth later once they were both patched up.

"It's alright son. Put him in my car and you can follow." Sam shook his head.

"Do you have a blanket by any chance?" Bobby froze and sighed but nodded. Of course he did, he knew what they had gotten themselves into, and he knew enough about Hellhounds and demon deals to have prepared for such an outcome. He pulled out an old multicolored quilt for Sam to see. The young man nodded as he sniffed back his still running nose.

"Good, lay it out on the back seat in the Impala for me." Bobby didn't move from his spot. "Bobby."

"Sam, I think it's best if you let me drive Dean," he said calmly.

"What? No. He'd want to be in the Impala. He loves-loved, this car," Sam argued as more tears sprung from his eyes.

"Ok," the older man said as though he were trying to coax a person down from a ledge. "Then how's about I drive the Impala and you take my car and follow." Sam shook his head.

"No, I need-"

"Sam, what you need is a break from all this. Take my keys, put your brother in the back of the car, and follow me." The younger hunter didn't want to leave his brother, but he also knew Bobby wasn't giving him a choice anymore.

Gently he laid Dean down in the back of the Chevy after Bobby threw down the quilt and then gave him one last tearful look before walking off to start up the older man's car.

He followed Bobby until he saw the his brother's car stop in the middle of nowhere.

"Where are we? What are we doing here?" He asked when he pulled up next to him, realizing for the first time ever, he had just followed blindly without having paid attention to where he was driving.

"Figured this is as good as any a place to start a pyre and-" he stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence. At that Sam's look grew dark.

"No," he replied dangerously.

"Sam-"

"I said no. We aren't going to burn my brother."

"It's the proper way."

"I don't care."

"It's what Dean would want."

"I. Don't. Care. We aren't burning him. He's going to need his body when I get him back."

"Sam-"

"Let's get to work," the young man said still in a dangerous low tone, as if daring Bobby to argue with him.

OOO

Sam downs the rest of the first bottle of whiskey. The world around him is swirling and he feels his stomach lurch. Quickly, he throws open the door just as he empties his stomach onto the cement. When he's done, he brings a shaky sleeved arm up to his mouth and wipes away the mess, breathing heavy. Sam slams the car door closed and shuts his eyes. He remembers the last time he drank this much.

He had been upset about his destiny and insisted that if he followed it, that Dean kill him. He remembers how he had had his brother to watch out for him then and how when he woke up in the morning, Dean had been there.

But this time when that happens, there will be no one. He will wake up wherever he allows himself to fall out of consciousness and when he does wake, he will be alone.

"No," he says out loud at the thought. He won't be alone, because he knows exactly what he has to do. Sam's phone rings and he recognizes the number as one of Bobby's. "Sorry Bobby, not now." The drive isn't far, he's pretty sure he can make it without being pulled over or causing any damage. He starts up the engine and turns on the car stereo. Dean had been on a musical shuffle earlier, a nervous habit of his. They went from starting to listen to AC/DC, to Bon Jovi, to a few others. When Bob Seger's "Famous Final Scene," fills the car, it sends Sam into another fit of hysteria. It takes him a few moments, but the young man composes himself, wipes his freshly wet eye, ejects the tape so that the radio pops on with an early morning talk session, peels out of the parking lot, and makes for the nearest crossroads.

END

A/n: Thank you for reading!