Title: The New Big Brother

Author: JALover7

Rating: PG13 – If you can watch the show, you can read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, the Impala, or anything related to Supernatural (if I did, I'd have them locked up in my closet, or in Dean's case, my bedroom). Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke, etc. I'm merely borrowing the characters for my own fan fictional devices.

Spoilers: All Season 1 up to "Devil's Trap."

Summary: Post-DT. Two chapters. The aftermath of the crash. Sam finds himself needing to play the role of big brother. A lot of angst and many mushy, brotherly love moments (AKA: a perfect Supernatural episode).

AN: I love this show and I love these characters; I hope I can do them justice. This is part one of two. Read & Review! Please and thank you. Cheers!

The New Big Brother

– – Prologue – –

The Many Rules of Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester had many rules that must always be followed in regards to Sam. "Never let Sam drive," was the first. The second was, "Always give Sam what he needs."

Tonight, he would make a slight revision to the rules…

But not before he broke them both.

The New Big Brother

– – Chapter One – –

Rule #1: "Never Let Sam Drive"

"I knew I should never let you drive. What the hell have you done to my car?"

Sam couldn't help but smile as he stood next to the wreck that was Dean's baby. Technically, Dean could hardly blame Sam for the accident. He had been a bit distracted at the time. His brother was bleeding to death in the backseat. They'd just been attacked by a demon – and not just any demon, but THE demon – wearing their father's face. Sam had just had to make the hardest decision of his life: listen to his father and use the last bullet to shoot him in the heart, finally destroying the demon their family had spent nearly their entire lives chasing down, killing his father in the process; or listen to his brother and let the demon get away from them, disobey his father, and leave him alive and disappointed. Sam had cocked the gun and pointed it at his father's chest. Sam had been willing and able to listen to his father this time. That is, until Dean had told him not to. Then he had hesitated. His father's orders then turned to pleas, and Sam was torn even more. But then he heard Dean's quite whisper of "Sam, no," and heard the desperation, pain, and exhaustion in his pleading. And Sam knew he couldn't do it. Dean was so far gone, and Sam honestly didn't know if Dean could survive the loss of their father. As Sam had told his father, killing the demon did not come before everything. Sam had learned a lot from Dean in the past year. And besides, Sam was really good at disobeying his father.

So what with Dean bleeding in the backseat, his father reprimanding him, and Sam driving the car as fast as it would go, he could hardly be blamed for being distracted.

Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could say anything, a sharp pain burst through him, starting in his head and spreading throughout his body.

As he moaned in pain, he opened his eyes and realized he was still in the twisted wreck of the Impala. His head was splitting and he could feel blood caking the right side of his face and head. He must have been knocked unconscious when the car crashed. He had no idea how long he had been out. He didn't know when they had left the cabin (again, things had been a bit hectic), but he knew when they had gotten there and approximately how long they had stayed, and looking at his watch, Sam figured he had been out for only five minutes or so.

Sam strained his head around, groaning in pain as his head and neck protested. He could see the truck that had hit them, but he could not see the driver. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Sam quickly turned his head toward the back of the car. He had to check on Dean. He saw his brother leaning against the door. Sam could see blood covering the right side of his head and his ear, gently dripping down his face. He could just make out a faint trail of blood oozing down the seat next to Dean's head, and Sam tried not to freak out as he called his name.

"Dean? Dean? Dean!"

No answer.

"Dammit, Dean. Don't make me come back there."

Still no answer.

Sam cursed and got up on his knees on the seat, reaching back to check Dean for a pulse. Half in the backseat, half in the front, he touched Dean's neck. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a faint but steady pulse. Watching closely, he noticed that Dean's chest was rising and falling gently, and he could hear faint breath escaping from his mouth.

Dean was alive.

For now.

His heart thundering in his chest, Sam sat back down and turned toward his father.

"Dad? Dad?"

He didn't move.

"Dad!" he yelled.


Praying that he was only unconscious like Dean, Sam leaned over the seat to get a closer view of his father. He could see a large, bright patch of blood on his forehead and the right side of his face, trickling down from his head, which was leaning against the window. He saw the blood on his father's right leg from where he had shot him. He tried calling out for him again but to no avail. Sam leaned over further and placed his hand on his father's neck to check for a pulse.

Sam's heart leapt in his throat as seconds passed and he felt nothing.


Sam placed his head gently on his father's chest, listening for a heartbeat and breathing.

Nothing happened. His chest didn't move. Sam didn't feel a heartbeat or a pulse, and he didn't hear breathing.

Sam tried his neck again, praying for the faintest pulse that could tell him his father was still hanging on. He waited and waited.


"Dad. Dad!"

Sam started to shake him, gently at first, then harder.


Sam lifted up John's hand to feel for a pulse on his wrist, and his blood froze in his veins.


His father's hand was ice cold.

John Winchester was dead.

Sam dropped his hand.

"Oh, God. No. No, no, no. Dad, no." Tears sprang to Sam's eyes and began to gently fall as Sam fought the urge to vomit and lost. He bent his head over the seat and threw up, but having eaten nothing in so long, it was only a dry heaving.

When he was done he sat up, shaking, trying to absorb what had happened. His father was dead. Sam had refused to shoot him, letting the demon go, and in doing so, he had delayed his father's death by mere minutes and lost the demon in the process. If his father had been alive, he would have been furious. His father. One of the strongest people he knew, who fought hard and never let anything he hunted get away. Dead. From a stupid car crash. Good God. How was he going to tell-

"Dean! Dean, wake up! Naptime's over!"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam tried to open his door, banging hard on it with his shoulder when it stuck. It wouldn't budge.


Sam banged on it with his feet, and it still wouldn't move.


Still no answer.

Panic surged through Sam's body, and as he let out a yell of rage and frustration and prepared to bang on the door again, he was shocked to see the door tear itself open violently, yanking clear off its hinges, crashing to the ground.

Sam panted, shocked at what he had done. Back at the cabin, when the demon was killing Dean, Sam had felt rage surging through him, and with it he could feel power. But when he had tried to use the power to get the gun, he had felt a wall. The wall was so strong, and Sam had only used his powers once, when he hadn't even been trying. He knew the wall was of the demon's making, and he had been useless against it. But now, there was nothing in his way.

Sam felt sorry for anything that tried to get between him and his brother now.

He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and practically flew out of the car, not pausing to wonder as the back door flew open just before he got to it. He fell on his knees next to his brother and was relieved when he found that Dean was still breathing.

Sam quickly dialed 911 on his cell phone. He told the woman who answered everything he knew about where they were and what had happened. He used the name Brooks, as that was what the ID's they all carried now said. They were always prepared for moments like this, but it didn't make things any easier. When the woman replied that they would be there in 5-10 minutes, which seemed like forever to Sam, he hung up the phone. As he slid it back in his pocket, he heard the best sound he had ever heard in his life.



Sam saw Dean open his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and he looked groggy, but he was awake. Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"I thought I'd lost you, man."

"Dude, no chick flick moments," Dean replied tiredly.

Sam started to laugh, but stopped when Dean started coughing, loudly and harshly. He shook as he wheezed, and then it passed, and Sam saw blood start to pour from his brother's mouth again. Dean moaned loudly, and he started to tip toward the door. Sam caught him in his arms and, as gently as he could, he pulled Dean out of the car, holding one arm behind his back and grabbing him behind his knees with the other. He lowered him gently to the ground, flinching as Dean moaned softly.


"It's okay, Dean. Help is on the way."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Where's Dad?"

A lump caught in Sam's throat. How was he going to tell him? It would crush him.

"Dean, he's…Dad's…. He looked away from Dean, afraid to answer.

"Sam, please."

Sam couldn't stand to hear Dean beg. Dean's Beg was equivalent to Sam's Face, the one that could get almost anyone, most especially Dean, to do anything for him, including give him the last of the Lucky Charms.

Sam couldn't deny him.

"He's gone, Dean." He looked Dean straight in the eye, his heart and voice breaking as he said, "He's dead."

Sam could practically feel Dean's pain as he watched his face crumble.

"He's gone?"

Tears formed in Sam's eyes again at the broken look on his brother's face. He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"He can't…he can't be…"


Whatever Sam was going to say was cut off when Dean's look of sorrow turned to one of fear.


Sam barely had time to react. Before he could do anything, he was pulled to his feet by the neck of his shirt. He vaguely caught Dean say, "Leave him alone!" as his feet left the ground and he was sent flying through the air away from his brother.

He flew twenty feet away and landed on the ground with a thud that sent pain shooting through his ribs. The breath was knocked out of him. When he could finally catch it, he sat up as carefully as he could, feeling a few bruised ribs. He turned to see an old man he had never met standing over his brother. It had to be the truck driver.

Sam slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest. But before he could start for his brother, Sam watched in horror as the man picked his brother up by the front of his shirt and, just as he had done to Sam, threw him through the air. Thankfully, he didn't throw Dean as far. He landed on his back a few feet from the back of the car. Sam could see Dean squirming on the ground as the man walked toward him.

The demon. The demon had come back for them. It just wouldn't leave them alone.

The gun. He had to get the gun.

Then he remembered that he already had it. Back at the cabin, Sam had put the gun in his pants as his father had limped out to the car. Sam had then reached down and lifted his brother up in his arms, being as gentle as he could when Dean cried out in pain. He had carried him out of the cabin as quickly and as carefully as he could. His father had climbed in the front seat and Sam had put Dean down gently in the back. Dean had groaned in pain as he sat him down, and Sam had told him everything was going to be okay. He was going to get them to the hospital. After Dean had told him to "for God's sake, Sam, be careful with the car," he had climbed into the front seat and sped off, the gun forgotten in his pants in the panic that had ensued.

Sam reached back and felt for the gun. It was still there, nestled safely at his back, hidden by his shirt. This had to end. It had taken his mother, the woman he had wanted to marry, and now his father. He would not let the son of a bitch take his brother now, too.

As Sam started moving as fast as he could toward the demon and his brother, he saw the man lean over Dean. Sam continued toward them, wondering what the demon would do.

Half way toward them, the man leaned down and punched Dean in the face, hard. Sam held back a yell and kept going. The demon punched Dean again, two more times. Sam was only a few feet away.

Then, in one quick movement, the demon in the man's body looked up and moved the man's right foot to Dean's chest, pressing down hard, eliciting a painful gasp from Dean.

"Don't move," the demon sneered.

Sam obeyed.

"Your brother's dying," it hissed. "He doesn't have long."

Sam looked down to see his brother watching him groggily. Sam tried to convey to his brother with a look that it would be okay. Sam was going to save him. He had to.

Sam looked back up at the demon, and that's when he saw it. The man's eyes were black, not the sickly yellow of the demon they had just faced. This was just another of the demon's henchmen, probably more of its stupid offspring. Sam could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he run to the car to get another gun? Why had he just assumed it was the demon? Now all he had was the Colt and its last bullet, and he wasn't facing the demon whose name was written on it.

The demon spoke again. "Now," it said, "Let's make a deal."

"I never did like that show," Sam replied angrily. He was more like Dean than he realized.

The demon ignored him. "You come with me, right now, and we leave this place behind. I take you with me, and your brother gets to live."

"Where will you take me?"

"Well now, why would I want to tell you that? You come with me quietly – no fuss, no questions – and I leave your brother here to die. If you refuse, well…." The demon pressed down on Dean's chest, and Sam cringed as Dean groaned in pain. The demon let up on the pressure, but didn't remove its foot. "He dies a bit sooner.

Sam looked at Dean, panting and gasping and bleeding on the ground. Dean looked over at him and whispered, "Don't do it, Sammy."

Sam shook his head.

"Sam, please, don't. Sam…"

Sam could never deny Dean when he pleaded with him, but this time, he knew he had to.

"I'll go. Just leave him alone."

"Sam, no."

"It's okay, Dean."


An evil grin spread across the man's face.

"You pathetic humans and your love. Come here."


Sam started walking toward the man, ignoring his brother's pleas.

"Sam, don't do it. Sammy…"

Sam stopped in front of the demon. "Start moving," it hissed, pointing in the direction of the road.

Sam took a step in that direction, but he turned around to face the demon, and started walking slowly backward, his eyes never leaving the man.

The demon smiled. "Smart boy." Sam's heart beat fast as he continued slowly backward and finally, when Sam was a few steps away, the demon thankfully took his foot off of Dean's chest and moved after him.

Dean let out a loud breath, panting, and turned his head toward the man and his brother.

"Leave him alone," Dean hissed.

The man put his hand tightly on Sam's shoulder and turned to face Dean. "Don't worry; I won't be doing anything to him."

The demon turned Sam around and started marching him slowly away up the hill.

"Sam. Sam!"

"Dean, don't," Sam said loudly.


Sam fought back the tears as his brother practically whimpered his chubby-four-year-old name.


Sam said nothing and kept moving. He just needed the right moment, when the demon was distracted…

"You son of a bitch!"

Sam wasn't shocked to hear the inevitable anger in his brother's voice. The man stopped, then turned them both around. Sam nearly cried when he saw Dean struggling to stand.

"I'm not gonna let you take him," Dean said. He cried out in pain as his arms gave way and he fell back down on his stomach. But he didn't stop. He got slowly onto his hands and knees. He pushed slightly with his arms, trying to stand, but he was shaking too much. He fell on his elbows, crying out and cursing in pain and frustration.

"Dean, stop."

The man turned them around again, apparently deciding Dean was no threat, and as they started to walk away again, Dean growled in his chest, and Sam was surprised the demon didn't simply burst into flame from the anger radiating from Dean.

But the demon did stop again. He turned Sam around and they both watched as Dean started crawling slowly toward them. Sam couldn't bear to watch. But the demon was enjoying it.

"You humans. You really are pathetic."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean sneered, still crawling.

The demon laughed. "Like I said, pathetic." And before Sam could do anything, the man flicked his hand and Dean fell down with a grunt.

They stood and waited, and Dean tried once again to get on his hands and knees. The man flicked his hand and he fell again. But Dean wouldn't quit. He tried again, and this time, the demon flicked his hand and Dean screamed in pain as he fell.

"Don't!" Sam cried.

The demon continued to smile. "Pathetic. Let's go."

The started, once again, to walk away.


Sam looked over his shoulder to see Dean lying where he had fallen, staring at him like his whole world was collapsing. Sam wanted with all his heart to convey to his brother that he had a plan; that he was waiting for the opportunity to put it into action; that he was not going to walk away and leave him to die.

"Dean, it's going to be okay," he said, as vehemently and as lovingly as he could.

At Sam's words, the strangest look passed over his brother's face. It was almost…recognition?

Sam watched as Dean relaxed and gave him a small nod. And Sam knew that, somehow, Dean knew what he was up to; that Dean had got the message he had so badly wanted to convey. Dean knew that Sam just needed a distraction.

So Dean gave him one.

"That man, in the alleyway, that was your brother in there, wasn't it?"

The demon stopped, and that was all the answer Dean needed.

"He was pathetic, you know. I did the world a favor when I killed him."

The demon growled, let go of Sam's shoulder, and turned to face Dean. Billions of thoughts flashed through Sam's head in that instant. This was it, the last bullet. This wasn't the demon the bullet was meant for. If he shot it, he would have nothing left to avenge the deaths the demon had caused. Not only that, but he would be killing an innocent man. If he didn't shoot the man, Sam would be taken off to wherever the demon wanted. But Sam knew what it would do to Dean if he left with the demon. It was the same reason he hadn't shot his father back in the cabin when Dean had begged him not to. Sam was all Dean had now, and he was sure as hell not going to leave him knowing that doing so would kill him.

He looked at Dean and, as the demon raised the man's hand to strike at Dean once more, Sam used the reflexes he had honed from being trained nearly his whole life and pulled the Colt out, cocked it, raised it, pointed it at the man's head, and pulled the trigger.

Sam saw the look of surprise on the man's face and watched it freeze as blue sparks shot out from the man's body. He watched as the man collapsed backward and fell to the ground. The blue sparks dissipated and the man lay still. Dead.

Sam dropped the useless gun where he stood. Now he knew how Dean must have felt when he had shot a man with a magic bullet to protect his brother. Only now there were no bullets left.

Sam heard a soft moan and a quiet whisper of his name and looked up to see Dean lying on the ground looking weakly at him. And Sam knew that he didn't care that there were no bullets left.

Sam quickly covered the short distance between him and his brother and fell on his knees at Dean's side.

This was the first time Sam had really looked at Dean since the cabin, and Sam was mortified as he took in the sight of his brother soaked in blood. "Oh God," Sam gasped. He wanted to try and stem the flow but he had no idea where to start. He seemed to be bleeding everywhere and yet nowhere. The demons had really done a number on him. Sam found the place where the most blood seemed to have pooled and pressed down with his right hand.

Dean groaned at the feeling, and Sam cringed, wondering just what the demons had done to his brother that he couldn't see, and if it would even help to press down on wounds he had seen pouring blood but could not find. When a whimper escaped Dean's lips, Sam let go, at a loss for how to help his brother. Dean was still breathing, but in really sharp, painful sounding gasps. How long had it been? Where were those damn ambulances?

Sam knew he had to keep his brother's attention. He had to keep him breathing; keep him listening, talking, smiling. He had to keep him alive. So he looked his brother straight in the face and said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Dean, you look like crap."

And Sam was relieved when a smile, albeit a quick, faint one, passed over his brother's lips. "Sam…you always look like crap."

Sam smiled, but the smile quickly left his face as Dean coughed harshly.

"Dean, now is not the time for your trademark wit. You've gotta keep your strength. Save it for when you're recuperating in the hospital and we're both dying of boredom." Sam hoped that talking about the hospital would help get him there.

Unfortunately, never keeping his mouth shut was another one of Dean's trademarks.

"That was the last bullet, Sam."

"I know."

"But what are you-"

"It doesn't matter. We'll figure something else out. There has to be another answer. After you get better we'll have all the time in the world to look for it."

"Sammy, is Dad really…"

Sam knew Dean wouldn't be able to finish, so Sam finished for him. "Yeah, Dean. He's gone."

His brother's eyes filled up with tears. But as ever, Dean refused to let them fall. Instead he moaned loudly and broke into a renewed fit of coughing. Sam watched helplessly until the coughs subsided. Then Dean called his name out with a faint whimper. "Sam."

Sam had never seen Dean this vulnerable, and it scared him to death. "I'm right here, Dean." He reached out and grabbed Dean's right hand in his own, holding it tightly. "I'm right here." Dean didn't fight the chick flick moment, and that scared Sam even more. Sam knew that Dean was slipping away.

Tears formed in his eyes at the realization, and Sam knew he had to do everything he could to keep Dean with him. Dean was all he had left. And knowing that Dean was too weak to fight it, he told him so.

"Dean, I need you. You have to stay with me. You know what Dad has been telling you all your life. "Protect Sammy." "Watch over Sammy." "Give Sammy what he needs." Well I need you, Dean. I need you here. I need you here dragging me all over the country, helping me save people. I need you here playing pranks on me, making fun of me, forcing me to date. I need you here to help me find the house with a white picket fence, the 9-5, the 2.5 kids, and the dog. I need you here to help me deal with these new powers I have; the visions and the nightmares. I need you here helping me chase down the demon that's taken so much from us. I need you here to help me kill that son of a bitch. It's taken so much from us, Dean. So much from me. I'm not gonna let it take you, too. You're stronger than this, Dean. Stronger and braver than anyone or anything I know. You don't want to disappoint Dad. You have to protect me. Give me what I need. And right now I need you to live."

When Sam finished, he realized that he had been crying. His face was wet with many shed tears. He reached up with his free hand to wipe them away. When he was done, he looked at Dean's face to gauge his reaction. For just a moment, he thought he saw a lone tear slip from his brother's eyes, but the next moment he figured he had just imagined it as his brother's face lit up into his trademark smirk.

"Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful."

And Sam actually laughed. "You are such an ass."

The smirk didn't leave his face. "Yeah well, your face is an ass."

For a second, Sam almost forgot that the two of them were in the middle of a deserted field in the dead of night and that Dean was bleeding to death on the ground. For a second, the two of them were in the car, driving off to some small town in the middle of nowhere to help some people they had never met. They were two young men on an important mission that wasn't finished yet. They were two brothers on a road trip, laughing and joking and playing pranks on one another. But it was only a second.

Sam was pulled out of his fantasy by the wail of distant sirens that split the silence of the night. Sam looked toward the noise and let out a sigh of relief as he saw headlights far off on the horizon, approaching fast. Unfortunately, Sam felt they were not coming fast enough, as next to him Dean's breath hitched in his chest.

Sam jerked around to face his brother again. "Dean?"

Dean couldn't answer him, as his breathing became rapid and frantic.

Sam squeezed Dean's hand to reassure him. "Dean, it's okay, I'm here. Just calm down. Breathe through it. Come on, Dean, you can beat this." Not knowing what else to do, he gently put his other hand on his brother's forehead, trying helplessly to coax him through it.

All of a sudden, Dean's breathing dropped off. For a second Sam was afraid it had stopped, but he could hear the faintest of noises coming from Dean's mouth. He was losing his brother.

"Dean, you're going to be okay. The ambulances are coming. They'll be here any minute."

"Sam…." It was a choked, feeble noise that forced Sam to start crying again.

"Dean, you can fight this. I know you can. You have to."

"I'm trying, Sammy. I'm just so tired." He said this so faintly that Sam could barely hear him.

"Come on, Dean. Try harder. Look, I'm making The Face. You know you can't deny The Face." Sam worked through his tears and forced himself to make The Face. But it didn't work. Dean's breathing just got slower and quieter.

Sam's hands began to shake. He clutched Dean's hand harder. Dean's eyes closed, and Sam felt Dean's heart skip a few beats. His eyes opened again as Sam called his name. His heart kept beating, but Sam could tell it was slowing down. He looked quickly to the road. The ambulance still seemed so far away. He looked back toward his brother. His eyes were closed again. Sam felt lost. Tears fell slowly and silently down his face.

"Dean, please," he whispered.

Dean opened his eyes again.

"Please. Please, Dean."

Dean's breathing and heart rate increased. Maybe Dean was catching his second wind. His last wind. Sam felt a gentle squeeze of his hand, followed by his brother's voice.


Sam's voice caught in his throat as he replied, "Yeah, Dean?"

A soft smile spread over Dean's face as he looked up at his younger brother and spoke softly.

"I love you…bitch." He said the last bit with his trademark smirk firmly in place.

Sam smiled, laughed lightly, and replied, "I love you, too, jerk."

And they both knew they meant it.

Dean began to smile. Then Dean's body jerked harshly and he began to tremble, slowly at first, then faster. Sam watched in horror as blood poured out of his brother's mouth. He had been slowly bleeding the whole time, but it was nothing like this. Dean's trembling got worse, and Sam grasped his hand harder. He glanced quickly at the road and saw that an entourage of ambulances and police cars was almost at the crash site. It would take them awhile to get the things they needed and get down the hill to them. His brother didn't have that long.

Still holding tightly to Dean's hand, Sam moved his left arm underneath Dean's back and, holding his head on his shoulder, gently lifted his brother up into a half sitting position. He guided Dean's head and body closer to his chest, feeling Dean shaking against him. He coaxed Dean's head to the side, hoping to keep him from choking on the blood that was gathering in his throat. For what felt like an eternity, Sam cradled his brother's broken body close to him, never letting go of his hand, and quietly begged him over and over to stay with him.

As Sam looked up to see EMT's jumping quickly out of the ambulances, Sam felt Dean shake harder. He looked down and was surprised to see that, for the first time in as long as he could remember (Dean could have told him that it was the first time in twenty-two years), his brother was crying. Sam continued whispering to him to hold on. Dean reached out with his free hand and grabbed onto Sam's arm like it was a lifeline. Sam heard Dean faintly call out for him, the sound of quiet sobbing echoing from him. Sam recalled countless nights like this from when they were young. Back then it was Sam who was scared and upset. He had no mom, his daddy hadn't come home, he was four years old and afraid, and Dean was the older brother who was always there to quietly hold him till he fell asleep. Only now it was Sam's turn to be the big brother. Sam held back his own sobs for his brother's sake and just held him as Dean let go of all the emotion he had kept bottled up for twenty-two years.

Then once more, Dean's breathing slowed down. He stopped sobbing. The tears stopped falling. He stopped shaking.

Sam kept going.

"They're almost here, Dean. You have to hang on. Just a little bit longer."

"Sam…I'm sorry."

"No, Dean."

Dean's voice grew fainter.

"I don't want to go," he whimpered.

"Stay with me, Dean," Sam pleaded. "You have to stay with me. I need you."

Sam could barely hear him.


"Dean?" Sam began to lose what little control he had left. He choked out a yell of his brother's name, shaking him. "Dean!"

Dean let out a loud gasp, fighting for just one more breath.

As he exhaled slowly, Sam thought he heard a faint whisper of "love you," before Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. His body fell limp in his baby brother's arms. His hand lost its tenuous hold.

Sam's world collapsed.

Then it exploded.

AN: That's it for Chapter One, but it's far from over. The next chapter, the last one, will be much harder to write (I wrote the end of this one first and then breezed through it). Expect it in a week or two. 'Til then, please R&R! Cheers!