The silver gun fit perfectly into his palm, a cold and heartless object that stared back at him as his heart began to beat irregularly. Unlike his teen years, there was no rush of adrenaline that forced him to raise the gun to his head. There was nothing but the dead feeling in his chest, a final memory of Sam sitting by his hospital bed with tears down his face. It may have not seemed like a happy memory, but Dean couldn't remember feeling so free as when he learned that his father was dead.

He closed his eyes, allowing the last few tears to escape as he whispered a final farewell to Sam and Castiel. His grip on the gun tightened, his finger settling on the cold trigger.

"Dean?!"

He could heard Sam's voice now, and his jaw tightened at the though of Sam finding him. It would hurt his brother, but he would move on, no longer burdened by a mental brother. Dean would die, but Sam would finally be able to live.

"Live your life, Sammy." Dean whispered, listening to the creaking of the door behind him. A hand slid to the one holding the gun, pulling it back from his head just a little.

"Don't go, Dean. I-I can't lose you too." Sam said softly, taking Dean's finger from the trigger. Dean shivered, shaking his head and slowly pulling away from Sam.

"I'm a monster, Sam." Dean choked out, opening his eyes and looking at his brother with sad eyes. "Staying here, I'll end up doing to you what I did to Cas. It will just get worse, and I need to end it before I become dad." His throat closed, his breaths shaky and broken.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Dean, you could never be our father. You care so much." Sam said. his voice a bit desperate as he held his hand out. "Give me the gun Dean. We can get you help."

Dean shook his head, taking a step back and letting his spine hit the back of the dresser. "I can't Sam. I can't be helped anymore. You can't see what I've seen. You can't see the blood that your covered in or how dead your eyes are. You can't see it." Dean cried, raising the gun quickly to his temple.

"Dean, don't!" Sam shouted, lunging and grabbing at the gun, knocking it away from Dean's head. He tugged at the gun, trying to wrestle it from Dean's hand as the older Winchester struggled against him.

The sound of a gunshot went off, and both of them froze, staring at each other with wide eyes. Blood began sliding from Sam's mouth, bubbling as he shivered before slumping to the ground. Dean stared in shock, his hands shaking as blood welled from a hole in Sam's chest.

"Is this...real?" Dean mumbled, his body quivering as he fell to his knees. He never prayed for something as hard as he did for this o just be a hallucination. He touched Sam's chest, his breath catching his throat.

This was very much real. Dean wasn't sure how he knew. but it sent a panic through his chest as he searched through Sam's pocket, fishing out his phone and dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" An operator asked, sending more panic to his heart.

"My brother's been shot! Please!" Dean shouted into the phone, pulling Sam's head onto his lap and whispering his apologies.

"What's  you address?" The woman asked in more urgency now. Dean gave her the information in a shaky voice. "Sire, while the ambulance is on the way, tell me what happened."

"It should have been me." Dean whimpered, his hand finding Sam's jacket and holding onto it tightly. "I should have been the one to be shot, not him."

"Sir, please tell me what happened." The operator asked again, her voice growing firmer in clear authority.

"He wasn't supposed to be here when I did it." Dean cried, leaning over his brother's body. He could feel a faint throb of Sam's heart, but just barely. "I was too slow, and he came in and tried to get the gun from me and..."

"It's all my fault. I did this to him! I'm a monster!" Dean shouted, his phone dropping from his shaking hand and falling to the floor with a soft thump. "I'm sorry, Sam! I'm so sorry! Wake up! Please wake up!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was a wreck throughout the ride to the hospital. While the paramedics worked to keep Sam alive, Dean curled in the corner the best he could, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth as formal spilled from his lips in sobs.

When they got to the hospital, Sam was take directly to surgery while Dean was led away by another nurse. He shook all over, and the nurse supported him when he doubled over, puking onto the floor despite his efforts to hold it in. When the nurse got him to a patient's room, she helped him into bed.

"Alright, you're being put under suicide watch. Do you have a therapist or will we need to get one for you?" The nurse asked, placing a shock blanket over Dean.

"Terry Hill of Palo Alto Counseling Center." Dean replied, his voice sullen as he bundled the streets in his hand, pulling it to his chest. "Is Sam going to be okay?"

"They're working to get the bullet out. He's lost a lot of blood." The nurse stated, writing down Mrs. Hill's name on the clipboard before looking him over. "We'll call your therapist but while I'm gone, another nurse is going to check you over for injuries."

"No, I'm not hurt." Dean refused, looking around the room. He felt so small, so vulnerable without the comfort of knowing if Sam was okay. "I need to call someone."

"I'm afraid it will have to wait. Right now, you are under suicide watch. Visitation is off limits." The nurse said, her voice firm as she grabbed the clipboard, walking out of the room. Another nurse entered through the open doorway only a moment later, her skin a deep chocolate color and her eyes large and kind.

"I need to see Castiel." Dean said as she walked in, a desperate tone in his voice. "Please, let me call him."

"I'm sorry, but we can't. But you can help this go much quicker by answering my questions." She said, standing by his bed. "Could you tell me what happened?"

"I...I shot him. I shot my brother." Dean said, tears welling up at the very thought. Sam was the one person he wanted to protect, na chis action may have just killed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Hill arrived at the hospital around twenty minutes later. Dean had no clue what time it was, but, judging from the paling yellow sky, he would guess around eight o'clock. She walked into Dean's room with worry in her eyes, letting out a gasp of relief when she saw that he was alive.

"Dean? Are you okay? What happened?" She asked, taking a seat as the nurse motioned her in. Dean took a shuddering breath, his chest tightening and growing more painful by the moment.

"I can't live like this anymore." Dean whispered, his words hanging heavy in the air between the three of them. "Please, I just want to call Cas. I just want to know he's alright after..."

"Dean...What did you do?" Mrs. Hill asked, her voice hesitant. Dean shook his head, scratching at his already sore arm.

"I almost killed him too. I'm a monster." Dean forced out, tears beginning to make tracks down his face. "Please, just let me die. I can't take the blood any more."

Dean felt his heart begin to race, his breaths growing ragged as his fingers found his hair, pulling at it until the pain mixed with anguish. He could feel hands trying to pry away his grip, but he only begged for dead as they tied his hands down. A dizziness swamped over him before it all went black.