Dean had put together Rachel's funeral for the following Saturday. He had made it a small funeral, inviting her family and the rest of his that were still living.

Devon had stuck with his uncle Sam during the funeral. He understood that his mother was gone forever, but he didn't understand why she had to go.

Jamaica and Thomas had made it to the funeral as well. They stayed strong for their uncle, cousin, and father, so they took turns comforting each of them and just checking on them in general.

After the funeral, Dean needed to go calm down and try to relax, so he left Devon with Sam and headed to a bar, where he decided to get so drunk, he passed out.

When he came to, his head was killing him and he didn't know where he was. But, then he realized he was at Sam's house.

He got out the bed and went to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and took the strongest pain pills he could find, then shuffled back to the bed and laid down.

As his headache started to go away, his moose of a brother walked in. "Hey Sammy..." He muttered and glanced over at him.

"Dean, what the hell?"

Dean looked over at Sam, eyebrows furrowed. "What?" He asked as he sat up, leaning against the headboard for support.

"Your wife -Devon's mother- has just died, and instead of being their for your son, you leave him with your brother and go get bat shit drunk!" Sam shook his head. "I've done some bad shit in my life, but what you did is worse than anything I've done and anything else you've done put together!"

Dean looked away from Sam, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Sam, i-it hurts too much... How am I gonna comfort him when I can't even comfort myself?! I want to be strong for him, but I can't!"

"Dean, you've both lost someone dear to you! It's okay to not be strong right now! You know what Devon told me last night?"

Dean looked up at him. "W-What?"

"His exact words were, 'I wish daddy was here.' Dean, he needed you last night, but you weren't here! He doesn't need me, his uncle! He needs you! His father!"

Dean put his head in his hands, quietly crying. He felt like such a screwup.

The bed dipped beside him and he looked up. Sam had his arms open, and Dean went into them. He suddenly didn't care if he looked weak.

He cried into his little brothers chest for a few minutes, mumbling sorry the whole time.

"Dean, you need to take him home and just be with him, OK? You both would find comfort in each other."

Dean nodded against his chest. "Ok... Thank you, Sammy."

"You're welcome, Dean."

About an hour later, Sam was waving to his brother and nephew as they backed out his driveway.

He went inside and sighed softly, but smiled a bit nonetheless. He knew he had gotten through to Dean and was very glad.