Disclaimer: Not mine. We all know it.

Once Sam had told Dean that nothing in the world could stop him from protecting his brother. Nothing. Sam would take on all of Hell if it meant keeping Dean safe, but he had failed.

"What am I supposd to do now?"

"Remember what I taught you."

The words echoed in Sam's head as he cradled the mutilated mass of flesh that was his brother's body. The tears flowed freely, splashing to the floor and mixing with Dean's blood. The red river soaked into everything around it. Sam's body shook with despair and pain. He had never felt such a loss in his life. Even when his father had been taken from him, his personal pain had not reached such tremendous heights. Dean was gone, ripped from him in the most violent manner possible. Shredded and mauled, torn and broken. Ever so gently, he lay Dean's body back on the floor.

"Remember what I taught you."

Dean had taught him how to shoot his first gun. Trained him in hand to hand combat. Dean had taught him how to sneak into the movies. Had taught him how to pick up girls. Dean taught him about trust and loyalty. Dean had taught him about fear and how to control it. About working through pain and locking it in so it wouldn't interfere with a hunt. He taught Sam about protecting his family,and never letting anything come between them. The past was over and nothing could change that. The only place that you have power in, is the future. Dean had taught him how to soldier on. Dean had taught him that his emotions themselves, were powerful weapons. Slowly Sam's tears faded.

"Remember what I taught you."

Sam reached into Dean's pocket and withdrew the keys to the Impala. The metal shone bright red. He placed the keys in his pocket and turned towards the rest of the house. He ran to the bedroom and tore the sheets and blanket from the bed. Gently, he wrapped up Dean's body and placed it in the back seat of the impala. The engine turned over and Sam sped towards southern Wyoming.

"Remember what I taught you."

Sam pulled into the cowboy cemetary in the wee hours of the morning. He jumped in surprise at the rather violent knock on his window. He sighed and stepped out of the vehicle.

"Boy, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here Bobby?"

"I saw you pulling away and I yelled to you. You either didn't hear me, or you ignored me, so I followed you here." Bobby eyed Sam up and down, trying to size up his state of mind. "Now I'm gonna ask you again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Go home Bobby, you aren't going to be a part of this."

Bobby turned with a sigh, and came back around with a right hook that would have made the great John Winchester more than a little dizzy. Sam landed on his ass with a loud thud.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. What the HELL are you doing here?"

"Damnit Bobby, you know exactly what I am doing here!" Sam screamed and regained his feet. He paused momentarily and took a deep breath. "I'm not leaving him down there Bobby. I am going to bring him back."

"And what exactly is it you plan on doing you bonehead? Huh? You just gonna march on in to the deepest, darkest depths of Hell and pluck him from the Devil's arms?"

"Yes." Sam stated matter of factly. Bobby stood dumbfounded. Sam moved toward the rear of the car as Bobby continued to simply stare. He popped the trunk and pulled out Dean's favorite shotgun. He also armed himself with three cantines of holy water, and extra box of ammunition, his mother's old crucifix, two cans of spray paint, and Ruby's knife. Closing the hood of the trunk, he checked that the shotgun was loaded and ready for action. He turned and headed towards the Devil's Gate, so cunningly hidden amongst the cemetary.

He shook up the first can of paint and, while aiming it at the ground, walked a tight cirle around the crypt. Once complete, he did it again, only making the second circle marginally wider. He shook the can of paint once more and set to work painting symblos in the narrow space created by the two circles. It dawned on Bobby that Sam was doing binding magic, and that once the gate was open the demons would have nowhere to go but back to hell. He had to hand it to the kid, it was a pretty clever move on his part.

Bobby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't even believe he was considering doing this. The simple "Yes" he had recieved from Sam had left no doubt in him that there was no talking the boy out of it, and there was no way he could let Sam do this without someone watching his back. He shook his head and grumbled about knowing how the Winchesters would be, inevitably, the cause of his death. He retrieved his own weaponry from the backseat of his truck and walked to the crypt just as Sam finished painting. Sam walked around the crypt once more, double checking his work when he caught sight of his life long friend. He stared at Bobby in shock.

"Bobby, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going in with you," Bobby replied while adjusting the twin set of rifles he had on his back.

"No you -"

"Don't you argue with me boy or I'll knock you over the head and tie you up in the back of my truck. I don't fancy the idea of traipsing on down into Hell and having a reunion with all the things I've sent their over my years, but I know I can't talk you outta this. If you're going, you ain't going alone. Now you mind telling me how you plan on getting through that lock?"

Sam stared at Bobby a few seconds longer, and when Bobby didn't back down, he produced a grenade from his pocket.

"Well," one eyebrow rose and Bobby nodded, "that certainly seems the Winchester style. Alright then, let's do this."

Sam tied the grenade into place with mesh wire and pulled the pin. He ran and hid behind a nearby grave next to Bobby.
The grenade exploded and the doors to the crypt slammed open releasing Hell's fury. Both hunters stood, the hair and clothes being whipped about them by the roaring whirlwind rushing out of the gate, and watched the gathering black cloud cirlcing the top of the crypt, desperately seeking escape. They would deal with that when they returned. With one final glance at each other they faced the darkness, and Sam let loose a war cry and charged the gates of Hell with Bobby bringing up the rear.

Once Sam had told Dean that nothing in the world could stop him from protecting his brother. Nothing. Sam would take on all of Hell if it meant keeping Dean safe, and he had every intention of doing just that.