Sam's POV
The Impala was silent, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires on wet asphalt. Rain pattered against the windshield, casting the world outside in a blur of grey and shadow. Dean's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. I stared out the window, arms folded tight across my chest, replaying our last conversation like a broken record.
"I can't trust you."
"We're not even brothers anymore."
The words tasted bitter now, like poison I wished I could spit out. But it was too late. I said them. I meant them—then.
Now?
Now, I wasn't so sure.
I turned to look at him, thinking maybe I should say something. Apologize. Or at least try. But before I could open my mouth—
A flash of headlights.
A deafening horn.
Then—impact.
Screeching tires. Twisting metal. The sickening crunch of glass shattering. My world flipped, then everything went black.
--
I came to with my ears ringing and blood in my mouth. The car was upside down. My seatbelt dug into my chest. Pain pulsed through my arm, and my head throbbed, but I was conscious.
"Dean?" I croaked, coughing.
No response.
I turned my head, heart pounding, and what I saw made it stop completely.
Dean was slumped over the wheel, blood dripping from a gash on his temple, his chest barely moving. His airbag hadn't even deployed.
"Dean!" I fumbled with my seatbelt, dropped onto the ceiling of the overturned car, and crawled toward him. "Dean, come on—talk to me."
I pressed two fingers to his neck. A pulse—but faint. Too faint.
I screamed for help. Lights approached. Someone called 911. Everything was a blur. Paramedics pulled us out, voices speaking too fast for my brain to follow.
The last thing I saw before the ambulance doors shut was Dean's lifeless face as they worked frantically over him.
--
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and heartbreak.
I sat in the waiting room, clothes stained with blood—his blood. My leg was bandaged, arm in a sling, but I barely noticed. My whole body ached, but nothing hurt as much as the guilt gnawing at my chest.
The doctor walked in, and I stood up so fast my head spun.
"Sam Winchester?"
"Yes—how is he? How's my brother?"
The doctor's face said it before he even opened his mouth. Grim. Too calm.
"He sustained multiple internal injuries… broken ribs, a punctured lung, and severe head trauma. He's on life support. We're doing everything we can, but… he's not responding. I need you to understand—his chances are very low."
Low. Not zero. But close enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
I nodded numbly, words failing me.
"You can see him, if you'd like."
--
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Machines beeped softly, the only sign that Dean was still alive—barely. Tubes and wires ran across his body, bruised and bandaged, but unmistakably him. My big brother.
I pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down, trembling fingers reaching for his hand.
"Dean…" My voice broke. "You—you gotta wake up, man. I know you can hear me."
I laughed bitterly, wiping at my eyes. "You'd probably be calling me a girl right now. But I don't care. Just—say something, you stubborn son of a bitch."
Silence.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Look, I… I messed up. I said a lot of things I didn't mean. I told you I didn't trust you. That we weren't brothers anymore. But that's not true. It's never been true."
My hand gripped his tighter.
"I was angry. Hurt. You lied to me, Dean. You tricked me into letting an angel possess me. And Kevin… Kevin's gone. But you—you did it because you couldn't lose me. And now I get it. Because I can't lose you either."
His chest rose, then fell. No change.
"You've always been the one to pull me out of the fire. The one who fought for me, even when I gave up on myself. So fight now, Dean. Please. Fight."
My voice cracked as the tears finally fell. "Don't leave me. Not like this. Not when I still haven't said… I still haven't said thank you. Or that I'm sorry. Or—God—how much I love you, man. You're my brother , please... just open your eyes. Yell at me. Call me a bitch. Just—just come back, man."
Then—
The beeping stopped.
I froze.
That flat, endless tone sliced through the air like a blade.
"No. No, no, no—Dean?!"
I stood up so fast the chair crashed to the floor. "Doctor! Somebody—please!"
The room exploded into chaos. Doctors and nurses stormed in, pushing me aside. A defibrillator was brought out.
"Clear!"
Dean's body jerked violently.
Still flatlining.
"Again!"
"Clear!"
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
"Come on!" I yelled. "Save him!"
Then the doctor looked at the monitor, then at the team, and finally at me.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "We've done everything we can."
I shook my head, backing away.
"Time of death: 10:42 PM."
The words punched the air from my lungs.
I stumbled, legs giving out beneath me, and collapsed to the cold, sterile floor.
"No… no…" I whispered, over and over. My chest caved in with grief I couldn't contain. My vision blurred with tears. "Dean…"
How could he be gone?
How could I still be breathing when he wasn't?
I had one brother. One family. One person who stuck by me no matter what.
And now—
Now I had nothing.