Title: I Always Thought I'd Die Alone
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world they live in.
Summary: I think Dean was telling the truth in Faith. Dean was okay with dying and this is why.

"Where to?"

"Sunrise Motel. Room 107."

Dean closed his eyes and rested his head against the back seat. Three days in the hospital and he hadn't regained an ounce of his strength back. Just checking himself out of the hospital and getting into the cab had almost completely wiped him out. Pathetic. Dying wouldn't be so bad if it didn't have this 'weak as a new born kitten' factor.

To be perfectly honest, there was little about this whole slow death deal that was really bothering Dean. He'd always though he'd have liked it to get over fast and in a blaze of glory but, now that he was here, he could defiantly see the benefits. The tiredness was sort of a welcome change, permission to slow down. The diagnosis permission to give up. Maybe he'd get a chance to say good-bye to Dad. And Sam would be with him. He wouldn't have to do this alone.

And, maybe he was a bastard, the idea of leaving Sammy didn't upset him as much as the idea of Dean leaving upset Sam. Sam could look after himself. Sammy didn't need his big brother watching his back anymore. Maybe he should have felt bad for putting Sam through watching him die but he couldn't help but be glad that he would be doing the leaving this time.

Ever since Sam had left for Stanford, Dean had always figured he was going to die alone. He'd be out on a solo job, something his father had been encouraging more and more, and he'd come up with something too big for himself to handle that would be that. Or, if he happened to be on a hunt with Dad, the same promise hung in the air. Because if it ever came down to a situation where Dean was dead, you better believe John was already dead. Dad was so fuckin' protective.

Even when Sam came back there was no guarantee that Sam wouldn't do something incredibly stupid to save his brother because Sam was a fuckin' adult now who thought his big brother was worth the same as he was. They were both grown men, equal targets, and there was no way Dean could grantee that he'd be the first to go.

Now that worry was over and done with, because Dean was going first, God damn it. He hadn't realized how much the idea of dying alone had bothered him until now, when the worrying was over.

"We're here."

Dean slowly opened his eyes – Had he drifted off to sleep? – and sat up. He handed over a handful of bills without counting them and stumbled out of the cab.

The cab had pulled right up next to the Impala and Dean leaned against it the black exterior, to steady himself before attempting to walk to the door. He hoped Sam was in because he didn't have a key anymore. He'd put that on his car keys and given those to Sam.

Dean moved from the Impala to the door and leaned against the wall. Sam wouldn't be happy that he'd checked himself out. Sam still believed that something could be done. That Dean could be saved. But Dean, he just wanted to hang with Sam, talk about nothing in particular. Maybe help Sam deal with this best he could, while he was still around to help. He didn't even mind the idea of Sam holding his hand. Dean even thought that that would be okay, because that would mean Sam would be with him.

In a life that was full of surprises, false promises and sudden changes, with a future more unsure than most, this was the most he could hope for.

I'm not going to die alone.