Pressure built up at the back of his nose as Dean fought back the tears. He would not cry. The heavy lump in his throat made it difficult to swallow and his heart ached. He would not cry. The fire in his throat made it difficult to swallow and his heart ached. He would not cry. The fire flickered in front of him, casting shadows that danced in frenzied rhythm. Dean’s fingers closed around the cold metal of his flask and he lifted the object to his lips. He held it there for a moment before swinging his head back and taking a swig. His throat burned and he felt the lump loosen slightly. His mother had gone up in fire; his father had gone up in fire; Ash had gone up in fire; Ellen and Jo had gone up in fire; Bobby had gone up in fire. H*ll, even Adam had gone up in fire the first time around. Now- Now Sammy was going up in fire and Dean would. Not. Cry.
He would not cry because his brother hadn’t gone out like a hunter. He would not cry because Sammy had already died before. He would not cry because his brother had killed himself and Dean didn’t know why. Dean had walked into Sam’s room to wake him up, he had slept in well past noon. When he had pulled the blankets back, there had been bottles. Lots and lots of bottles. and boxes. Pill bottles and beer bottles. Medicine accompanied with ‘Dean’s best friend’, Jack. Sam had been so still and pale. So, so pale. He almost looked grey. With a fluttering heart and a swelling chest, Dean shook him and looked for a pulse. It was too late, Sammy was dead. And Dean would not cry.
Dean would not cry even as Castiel stood beside him, muttering words of prayer for Sam. Castiel, in an awkward attempt to console Dean, clasped his hand onto the hunter’s shoulder. He didn’t speak and Dean didn’t cry. Dean’s fingers shook as he brought the flask back up to his lips. He began the ritual of drowning his sorrows in the bitter and numbing liquid. Heat traveled down his chest and spread throughout his entire body before settling in his stomach. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was drinking, but it was doing the job.
“C’mon, Cas. Gotta get back to the house,” Dean’s voice came out gruff and broken before he cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to cry. Not anytime soon, not ever again. “Get in the car, let’s go.”
“Aren’t we supposed to do something with the ashes, Dean?” Castiel’s even deeper and rockier voice was filled with confusion.
“We can do that tomorrow if the wind doesn’t scatter him.” Dean’s reply came out harsher than he had meant to speak to the angel. But, c’mon! His brother had just killed himself. Dean just wanted to go home and drink himself into a stupor and not cry.
“Okay,” Castiel slid into the dark interior of the Impala, sitting in the back as he had become accustomed.
Dean almost told Castiel that he could sit in the front, but the sudden lump in his throat made it hard for him to breath let alone speak. The Winchester felt that if he told Castiel he could have the front seat, it would finalise Sammy’s death and Dean wasn’t sure he was ready for that just yet.
“It’s okay, Dean. I’m fine back here,” Castiel reached up and patted Dean’s shoulder again and smiled softly. Dean’s returning smile was weak and filled with sorrow. He turned back around and started his baby up, the loud purr rumbling through him and easing away the tears that had begun to build up. He would not cry.
Dean was sitting on Sam’s bed. The evidence of Sam’s suicide still littered the mattress and floor. He sighed as he took the bag he designated for garbage and opened it. He began to gather the trash up. When he was done, he pulled out Bobby’s flask and took a deep gulp. “Dangit, Sam had more stuff than I thought.” He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes and put the alcohol away.
“Dean,” Castiel walked into the room and rested his palm on the spot between Dean’s shoulder blades. “I could just send all his stuff away with the snap of my fingers. Why don’t you let me do that?”
“‘Coz, Cas! This… It’s something that i have to do. I feel like i owe it to Sammy, ya’know?” He sighed and pointed to the bag of garbage. “Snap that away if you feel the need so badly.”
“Dean, I didn’t mean it that way. I just want to help.”
“Then get me a box.”
Castiel headed back out and returned shortly with a box for Dean to pack away Sam’s few belongings. “I’m sorry,” he whispered beneath his breath before looking sadly at Dean with his baby blues and sulking out of the room.
Dean sat in the center of the room and began to put Sam’s stuff into the cardboard box. A piece of paper fluttered off of his younger brother’s desk and he swooped down to pick it up. He rubbed his face and told himself not to cry as he saw that Sam’s hand writing covered the paper. He sat back on the bed and began to read it, curiosity getting the better of him. He flattened it out and began to read it when he realised that it was for him. And that it wasn’t the only part. He began to to search frantically for all the piece of paper with Sam’s hand writing on it for him.
His hands shook as he ordered them, skimming his red eyes over the words.
Before you start reading these, just know that nothing I’ve ever done was your fault. Nothing that ever happened to me was your fault. And know that, I will get better. I have to. And, you need to know, that I love you, Dean.
Don’t take everything I say or do or threaten to do so seriously, okay? I’m your little brother. My purpose in life is to be the bane of your existence. And, when I’m down like this, I… I’ll swing right back around. I always do. And… I will let you down, Dean. But, I’m human. I make mistakes. I have to learn from them.
Dean, please, for me, if… God forbid anything happen to me. Just. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t blame anyone except for the person who did it to me. Okay? I am human and I will get hurt. But, I’ll always get better. But if I do… If I do die. Don’t blame yourself, okay? Don’t beat yourself up over it.
Because, one of these days, we will have to part ways. We will have to say goodbye. And it’ll hurt. But it has to happen.
Dean, my big brother. You have always been my hero. Even when i was mad at you, I always looked up to you. You were always my Superman to the rescue.
It get harder everyday, Dean. But, we’ll pull through. We always do.
Dean put the first note down and took a shaky breath.There was no way Sam was suicidal then, no way. He held back the sob in his chest and took a deep swig from his flask. There was one more note and Dean didn’t know if he could make it through it.
He picked up the next one.
I know I said before that this wouldn’t be easy, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard. I’m losing the battle, Dean. I want… I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. You keep asking me all of these questions and I know that you only care about me and that’s why you ask, but… f*ck… It’s hard, Dean. It’s so hard. It’s supposed to be a great day, ya’know? There’s nothing going on. We’re just relaxing and… but… Dean. I’m alone. Even when someone is with me, I feel so alone. I feel disgusting and tainted and ruined and… unwanted. I can’t ever tell you any of this. You deserve a much better hand than life has dealt you. I don’t deserve you and you don’t deserve all the sh*t I must put you through. I should have… You should have just let me stay dead the first time because then… It wouldn’t have been me. There would have been no Lucifer, no apocolypse to try and stop. No Adam, none of this heartbreak I had put you through.
And, I understand that I am human and that I had no part in any of the events God decided for us. I understand that none of this is my fault, but that’s the thing:
It is all my fault.
So, I’m done, Dean. And, please, for my sake. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t even think about blaming yourself.
I am human and that’s the problem.
I can’t handle this.
So, I’m sorry. I really really am, Dean. It just has to happen. The longer I’m here to make mistakes, the longer you get hurt. And, yeah, it’ll probably hurt you a whole hellva lot to lose me, but in the long run and everything. It won’t matter. I won’t matter. I don’t matter.
I love you, Dean. I am human and I will let you down.
Dean put the letter down and took a deep shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears. Then another. And another. Another. One more. Then another. But no matter how hard he tried, he felt them began to streak down his face. Hot and wet. Thick and heavy with the pain he was feeling in his chest. “Oh, god. God. Why?” He began to rock back and forth on Sam’s bed. “Sammy, Sammy. Sammy, why? Oh, Sammy why?” He began to shake. His head was light and his eyes were heavy with tears.
His entire body was trembling and he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Dean?” Castiel’s rocky voice was filled with worried concern. “Dean, come on. Get out of here. Let’s get you to your room.” Those baby blues drilled deep into Dean’s shattered and broken soul. He coaxed Dean to his feet and held him in his arms as Dean collapsed onto his chest, sobbing. Dean clutched his shirt, the tears soaking into that ridiculous trench coat. Dean felt Castiel’s hand rub up and down his back and he reveled in the comfort.
He hurt and he needed. He pulled from the angel and stumbled backwards. Castiel caught him and lead him to his room. Dean’s vision was swimming and he couldn’t go even a few paces without tripping. Dean had sworn he would not cry because he knew once he did, it’d be impossible to stop. Castiel tucked him into his bed and sat on the edge of it, that stupid hand never leaving Dean’s shoulder. He rubbed it with his thumb and sat silently.
“Cas-” Dean croaked out.
“Shh… Dean, just sleep, okay?”
Dean nodded his head and felt his eyelids begin to get heavy from the crying. He fell asleep with Castiel’s hand on his shoulder and those words behind his eyes.
I am human and I will let you down.