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A Simple Ending

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"So, is this it?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I think it is."

The cavernous sewer system's echoing drips and streams of water were loud as they had made their passage through the pathways and tunnels underground. In a junction of the system, Sam and Dean had found their monster and vanquished it. It lay still, bleeding into the polluted water, 10 feet from them.

It was gritty, an overexposed black and white scene: Sam was fallen against the far wall, his breathing heavy, his hair pitch black, wet, and covering his expressions of extreme pain as he held his stomach. Dean was a level lower, feeling the disgusting, putrid water soak into his clothes as he held his chest. The wounds were fatal.

"Are you bleeding out?"

"Yeah," Dean replied roughly. Silence.

"Are you?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. Silence.

"What about the Leviathans?"

"I don't know, Sam."

"How did you want to die?"

"I told myself never to think about it."

"I wanted to die faster than this." Sam's words echoed through the sewer system solemnly. Dean gave a small nod in agreement, but Sam couldn't see. Dean closed his eyes.

Their phones were smashed to pieces from the battle. There was no calling for help. Dean opened his eyes when he heard shuffling; movement above him.

"Sam?"

"I'm coming to you," Sam gasped out. Dean didn't protest, but rather moved to where he thought Sam would be coming down from. It was a small cement step – about 4 feet high – that Sam would have to climb down in order to get to Dean.

With a splash and an intense groan, Sam slammed down next to Dean, and Dean immediately reached for his brother.

"I gotchya," Dean barely whispered. Sam leaned into him, huffing in effort and pain. Dean pulled himself upright with his remaining strength, knowing it would be one of his last; the exertion would just mean faster blood loss. Dean didn't care as he wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him close. Sam fell into him, grasping his stomach and gagging a couple of times over Dean's lap, placing a hand on Dean's bent knees to provide him leverage.

"Oh god," Sam whispered in pain, and Dean pulled him in tighter. "Dean."

"I know," Dean replied. "It's okay."

It was awkward positioning. Sam was curled, clutching his stomach, across Dean's lap and Dean was crouching over Sam, his chest pressed against Sam's back to help staunch the blood flow. Dean's hands made their way to where Sam's were: wet, slippery with blood, Dean held one hand against the gaping wound across Sam's stomach. He pressed his other across his brother's chest to hold him up from the sewer water he had been heaving into.

"Sam? It's gonna be okay, Sam," Dean whispered. He couldn't even hear himself that well anymore. He hoped he had spoken loud enough.

With surprising strength, Sam moved, trying to roll around to see Dean. Dean, realizing what Sam was trying to do, helped him around. Dean saw Sam's face, then, looking up at him in fear and worry.

"Dean, I don't want to go back to hell." Sam's face screwed up in pain and fear; tears started rolling down his face. Dean held him firmly and looked down at his little brother.

"You're not going to hell, Sam." There was no emotion in Dean's voice; just firm conviction. He couldn't express his emotions very well… He was too out of it. He looked into his brother's eyes and pressed his hand against the side of Sam's face, brushing blood across it in the process. Sam melted at his touch and continued to cry.

Dean felt the cold start to penetrate his chest, making his entire body shiver involuntarily. Sam felt it against Dean.

Sam sacrificed one of the arms holding his stomach and weakly raised his it up to Dean's shoulder. Instead, it landed gently against Dean's neck, then down to his shoulder. At Sam's touch, Dean's tears fell, feeling his brother's hand. He gasped in a sob as he stared into his brother's eyes and felt his gesture against his neck.

"Dean it's okay-" Sam said blankly, not really seeing Dean anymore. Tears were still running down his cheeks.

Dean grabbed Sam's outstretched hand in hopes to strengthen his resolve, but instead just kept feeling up until he reached Sam's shoulder.

"Sammy-" Dean sobbed, and then pulled Sam up from his lap and pressed him flush against his chest. Sam was startled and yelled out in pain, no longer able to clutch his stomach, as his big brother clutched him tightly.

"Dean-!" Sam cried in response, almost gurgling. Blood was dripping from his mouth onto Dean's shoulder and back. Scared for his brother, Dean clutched Sam tighter.

Sam let go of trying to hold his stomach in and instead focused on simply grasping his brother back. He let his head lull against Dean's - in the crook of his neck- as he felt Dean softly kiss his temple and hold him so tightly.

"You're not going to hell, Sammy," Dean whispered directly into Sam's ear. At these words, Sam let go fully. He felt the blood streaming out of him, making him shiver along with Dean as they held each other. Sam entered into a different level of awareness right before fading to black. He only felt his brother's touch, clutching him, and his hand against the back of Sam's head, messing through his hair and keeping him as safe as possible before his final breath. In Sam's final breath, he heard Dean tell him he loved him.

"I love you too," Sam murmured against Dean's neck, and everything fell silent.