Dean felt numb from head to heart, it was still sinking in. He had insisted that the doctors continue trying to revive Sammy, but they had refused and Dean had been dragged out of the emergency room. It killed Dean to think of Sam, laying limp on the table, blood covering his chest.
Dean never felt this lost before, not even when his dad had flatlined at the hospital. As he had watched his father's last moments, he had Sam there to hold him up, to keep him from falling. He didn't have anyone to hold him up now, Sam was gone. His brother was dead.
Dean couldn't help but feel angry. How dare Sam go and leave him all alone, just when they were getting to be brothers again! Sam had been all Dean had left, Sam had been the glue that held Dean's sanity in place.
Dean slammed his fist into the side of his car, leaving a large dent in it, along with a throbbing pain in his hand, but he didn't care. Dean felt like a failure as he got into his car and headed over to the motel where they had been staying. Revenge was the one thing on his mind, if he found that son of a bitch, he would kill him slowly.
He slammed the door behind him and opened the door to the room, he dropped his stuff on the floor, not caring where it fell. He turned on a lamp and sighed. Sam's stuff lay on the one bed. Dean laid on the other bed, his arms beneath his head as he looked back on that entire day.
It had all started with a laugh, Sam had decided that Dean's snoring had to end, so he stuffed a pillow in Dean's sleeping face. Dean had fallen out of the bed, landing hard on his butt, Sam standing over him laughing. "Get up Dean, we have a hunt to start."
Sam was referring to the house on the edge of town, a large newly built manor that had four strange deaths since it was built. Each death that had occurred there all left the victims in the same position, face down, their faces crushed by some sort of traumatic force. It was freaky.
Sam grabbed his laptop and headed out the door. "Get a shower while I search for some info on the house, maybe I can find the former owner or something."
Dean mumbled something about kicking Sam's ass, causing Sam to laugh more as he walked out the door. Dean got back up on the bed and fell asleep, the hangover from the night before coming up. He had a "few" drinks that night, getting the numbers of three hot chicks.
He awoke to the sound of the door slamming and Sam standing over him. "Dean, get up!"
Dean stretched out and then slowly sat up. "You just ruined the best dream ever Sammy, one the girls I met last night was about to show me something special."
Sam shook his head, an annoyed look crossing his eyes. "Dude, you seriously need to get a life, now get up, I have some leads and I want to go eat before checking out the house."
Dean deliberately took his time getting a shower, only getting out when Sam shut off the hot water, with the help of the motel owner.
Dean parked the car about a mile from the local diner, Sam insisted walking was good for them. Dean insisted that Sam was full of shit.
Sam continually typed on his laptop while Dean flirted with the waitress, once she took their orders and left the table, Sam looked up at Dean. "Can you not go to one place without trying to pick up girls?"
"I try not to." Dean said with a grin.
Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his search, he let out a protest when Dean closed the laptop right on poor Sam's fingers. Sam pulled his fingers out from under the laptop and glared at Dean. Dean laughed and pointed to the food on the table. "You are the one who needs to get a life, dating your computer is not going to make you happy forever."
Dean smiled as Sam flipped him off, then they began eating their food, talking about the hunt as much as they could without seeming weird.
After they finished eating, they began walking back to the car, when the fateful moment had come.
Dean looked down and saw his shirt was covered in blood, Sammy's blood. He stripped off the shirt and threw it as far away from his as possible. He felt like he was in a daze as he changed into a different shirt and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes and trying not to break down.
What would he do now, would he continue hunting? If he did, he would start by finding the bastard who shot Sam.
He slowly drifted off to sleep, hoping for a dreamless night.
The night morning, Dean's eyes opened slowly, the sun shone brightly in the small window. Suddenly Dean was hit upside the head with a soft feather pillow.
He let out a yelp and fell off the bed onto the cold floor. What the hell! Then Dean heard familiar laughing. It can't be...
There, standing above Dean, was Sam.