He Thinks It's All Over

After the events at Roosevelt Asylum, Sam's guilt is quite literally killing him, and Dean realises it's far from over...

AU fic set 6 years after A Crash Course In Road Safety -Season 1

Dedicated to Criminally Charmed – you'll soon see why!

Not Mine. If they were they'd both be keeping my bed warm. Hurhurhur...


Dean stared at Sam; the emotions running across his little brother's face making him feel sick.

"You remember all that?"

"Yeah. Look Dean, I didn't mean all that stuff I said. Any of it."

"You didn't huh?"

And it was that look on Dean's face that told Sam just how much he'd hurt his big brother, the guy he owed his very life to. Guilt and panic shot through him.

"Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked softly.

The look was gone to be replaced with a cold hardness, the barest tinge of anger and mistrust flashing in his eyes, polished off with a stubborn tilt to the chin.

"Nah. I'm not really in a caring-sharing kinda mood." And with that he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut with a disturbing finality.

Sam sighed unhappily. I guess I deserved that.

Maybe he hadn't meant it, but those thoughts, those feelings truly existed, had originated from somewhere and on top of the verbal abuse, Sam had tried to kill him. And not just once. After shooting him in the chest with rock salt Sam hadn't stopped there. Dean had offered Sam his pistol and told him to finish it.

Sam had hesitated only long enough to step forward and aim the weapon right in his brother's face. He'd squeezed the trigger four? Five times? Sam had lost count.

"You hate me that much...?"

His knees felt about ready to give way, as he stumbled round to the passenger side. Taking in a few deep breaths trying to calm himself down, he opened the door and silently slid into his own seat.

But the panic and guilt that had started out with a slow burn, pretty soon became an all consuming fire.

My God I could've killed him!

Sam knew he was seconds away from either being sick or hyperventilating. And it didn't help that his head still ached from whatever Ellicott had done to him.


"What?" Dean snapped in annoyance.

"Never mind."

Calm down for Christ's sake! You think Dean will show you any sympathy after what you did to him? You think you deserve any?

Sam took slow, even breaths. Fortunately his brother hadn't noticed anything wrong, not that he was likely to. Dean's chest had to hurt like hell and the image of his little brother, the kid he'd virtually raised by himself, holding a gun on him would probably keep him distracted for a while.

Sam turned his head to stare out the passenger window when he felt tears threaten.

Thank God Dean had the presence of mind to empty the clip.

Just as Sam once again felt himself being overwhelmed with guilt, Dean pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a motel.

"Figured we could use some downtime." Dean said shortly by way of explanation. Before Sam could even blink, his brother was out the car and striding over to the reception area.

Sam knew that in time Dean would forgive him, that everything would return to normal. He just had to grit his teeth and weather the storm, right? But doubt once again assaulted him; they'd been on the road for five hours and not one word had been said.

Dean was more than just angry. He was pissed as hell.

Sam watched his brother out of his peripheral vision when he climbed back in and manoeuvred the car round the block. Once parked up, Dean was out the car and striding away, key at the ready, not once looking back to see if Sam followed.

Sam got out and moved round to the trunk. Popping the lid he grabbed his duffle as well as his brother's and, with some considerable foot-dragging, followed Dean into the room. Immediately Sam dropped the bags on a table by the window he turned to find his brother heading out again.

"Dean wait..."

"I'm going for a drink. Alone." Dean didn't even look at him, but he scowled down at the large hand that now held the door shut, blocking his escape.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam whispered, sounding genuinely regretful and when Dean hesitated for just a second Sam felt his hopes soaring. But they were soon dashed.

"So you said." Dean knocked his hand away, and without another word left for the bar.

Sam sank down onto the bed, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his aching head in his hands.

"Oh God what have I done?" He whispered aloud as the tears finally started falling.

You should have finished it!

Sam's head shot up and frantically swivelled round the room, desperately seeking the owner of that voice. When nothing else happened he sat back breathing heavily, his stomach churning.

You must finish it!

Sam shook his head, trying to dampen down the nausea.

I can make you all better if you just finish it!

The churning grew violent and he scrambled for the bathroom, the door slamming against the wall as he collapsed to his knees and vomited. Vomited until there was nothing left and he was dry retching.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Sam shakily got to his feet and gripped the sink. He raised his head and stared at his reflection for a few seconds. Leaning forward slightly to get a closer look, he realised that his nose had started bleeding again. Shaky hands reached for the tap as the first few drops of blood stained the white porcelain, and he splashed water onto his face, then ran a damp hand through his hair. It came away covered in something sticky.

Sam stared at the blood on his hand and glanced back up at the mirror. There was blood leaking from both his ears.

White bolts of agony suddenly shot through his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping, until it passed. Sam slouched down onto the toilet lid and sat there dizzy and disoriented, glancing out to the bedroom, wondering if he could make it to the bed. Maybe if he just got some sleep he'd be ok.

A few calming breaths and he stood up swaying, shuffling forward. Just as he caught his reflection in the mirror again the pain came back, but this time twice as harsh and unforgiving, and he cried out. He could see a bright glow surrounded by sparks of light shooting from his mouth and eyes; in a panic he fumbled for his cell phone, tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans. He hit speed dial, but Dean wasn't answering.

Finish it!

"No!" Sam screamed in pain as he lurched towards the bedroom, but he never made it. The agony in his head spread throughout his body as every single muscle gave up control and painful spasms racked him. Half in and half out of the bedroom, he slumped face first to the 

floor, eyes wide open in fear as his body started seizing violently. The phone had fallen from his hand but it lay nearby.

"This is Dean Winchester. Leave a message."

"De...Dean..." Sam just managed to choke out. "Please...come back...help...me."

Even after losing consciousness Sam's body was still convulsing, though it gradually subsided, leaving his muscles tight and lightly vibrating. Blood continued to pour from his nose and ears as his eyes stared sightlessly at the bare wall, his breathing jerky and ragged.


Dean downed another whiskey chaser and belched loudly. When several dirty looks were thrown his way he scowled deeply until the punters abruptly turned back to their own drinks.

Sam. Sammy. Little brother. Little psychopath.

Dean knew he was being irrational and unfair; Sam hadn't been in the driver's seat, had no control. But Dean just couldn't get that image out of his head. The look of sheer hatred and anger on Sam's face was bad enough but when Dean gave him the pistol, Sam had been almost too eager to squeeze the trigger. In truth, a part of Dean wished he hadn't removed the clip. Anything to lose the memory of those few minutes when his world felt as though it was crashing down around him.

Because in those few minutes, Sam had hated him. And right now Dean wanted to spend the next few hours drinking the memory away.

A shrill noise coming from his jacket pocket distracted him. Pulling his cell phone out, he spotted the caller ID. Sam. Dean just stared at the screen and before he could make a decision, the call went to his voice mail. It was probably for the best.

Dean settled in for the night, drinking, hustling and even half-enjoyed a quick rampant sex session in the room out back with the barmaid. He felt himself truly start to relax for the first time since leaving Roosevelt, and had even managed to stop thinking about his brother for a little while.

For a little while, things were back to normal.


Dean glanced a little blearily at his watch. Two in the morning? Really? Wow!

He stumbled out the bar, two hundred dollars in his back pocket and what felt like a case load of whiskey in his belly. Stumbling a little, he giggled to himself. Boy! Is Sam gonna be mad!

The thought sobered him up a little and his erratic pace slowed. Dean really didn't want to go back to that room, to his brother. Not right now. He just wasn't ready and a part of him wished he'd paid for an extra room.

Stopping by the Impala, he hesitated. He could easily spend the night in the car, wouldn't be the first time. But it nagged at him that Sam might worry when he woke in the morning and Dean wasn't there. As angry as he was with him at the moment, he knew Sam didn't deserve 

that. The kid felt guilty enough as it was, and any pleasure Dean had milked from that was starting to wane.

Shrugging, Dean stumbled on over to the room. Trying the handle, he frowned when the door clicked open. His frown deepened when he stepped inside, turned on the nightstand light and noticed that no salt lines had been laid. The room was totally unprotected.

"Sam?" He called out angrily. "What the hell were you...?" His eyes fell on a dark shape slumped over the threshold of the bathroom. Fear galvanised him into action and he turned on the main overhead light.

Sam lay on his stomach, head turned away...but it was the blood on his face and pooling on the grimy carpet that completely threw Dean into turmoil.


And he was on the floor beside him, gently turning him over.

"Oh God Sammy!"

Blue-green eyes stared right through Dean, but they were filled with pain and torment. His chest was shuddering with each breath as though it was a herculean effort to draw air into his lungs. His body was quaking, as though an electric current was passing through it.

Dean gasped when sparks flew from Sam's eyes and mouth and recognised it immediately.


"Nooooo!" Sam suddenly screamed and thrashed violently. "I won't...I can't...you can't make me..."

Sam started convulsing in Dean's arms, fresh blood spilling from his ears, flowing from his nose.

As soon as it started it was over, Sam lying limp and breathless, but his body still felt like an electricity generator running on half power. Sam whispered over and over.


With one hand supporting Sam's head, Dean's other hand patted Sam's face.

"Hey hey HEY! Come on Sam! Snap out of it!" But Sam's only response was to stop breathing altogether.

There was absolutely no warning. No breathless plea, no gasp for air, no arching back desperately seeking release.

He just stopped breathing.

Dean stared down at him in shock. Stared down into those eyes, watching the light gradually fade.

The silence that followed was paralysing. For a second, Dean forgot all his training, forgot everything.

All he saw was his little brother aiming his own gun at him.

And just for a second...he nearly let him go.

But the spell was soon broken; Dean finally remembered that this was his little brother, the one he was meant to protect.

"NO!" Dean had Sam on his back, wiping at the blood, clearing his airway, breathing the life back into him.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon..." Dean whispered to him, as he checked his breathing and pulse.

Still nothing.

Dean carried on, and on, and on...until his heart was breaking. He was nearly ready to give up hope, but his eye caught Sam's cell phone lying nearby, and read the display.

The last person Sam had tried to call whilst lying on the floor in his own blood...

Dean felt like being sick, and utter, absolute pain attacked him as his heart finally cracked in two.

He was asking for my help when he was dying...and I ignored him!

"No!" Dean restarted CPR, pressing on his brother's body, forcing air into him. "You're gonna live Sammy! I won't leave you again I swear! Just come back to me!"