‹ Prequel: Big Brother Doesn't Always Know Best
I'll Follow You Wherever You May Go
I'll Follow You Wherever You May Go
It had been two months since they had buried Dean. Two months since he had to say goodbye to his brother and his best friend. Sam was stood, staring at the grave; the grave that Bobby had so thoughtfully placed by their parents' graves. It was all too much. How could Sam be expected to cope without Dean? Dean had been the only thing really holding him down. He wiped a tear and sniffed before kneeling down, leaving the bouquet of flowers against his grave stone before turning around, walking back to his apartment.
Bobby had stayed true to what Dean had requested. He had sworn on his grave and gotten Sam out the hunting business. Sam had found an apartment back in Lawrence; he'd wanted to be close to his family. Bobby came to check on him whenever he wasn't out hunting things that go bump in the night and it was nice. If you could call a secluded life with no one to see, nowhere to go and nothing to do nice. He had no choice. Every time he tried to get close to him, the vision of his brother laying on the brink of death, blood pooling around his wrists sprung to mind and forced him back. He couldn't develop relationships anymore. He just couldn't. He was too scared of someone else leaving. Everyone left in the end. Castiel. Dean. What was the point in continuing to try?
..
It was coming up to the third month anniversary of Dean's death. Sam wasn't able to sleep. He kept tossing and turning, trying to think back to that night; no, he didn't need to think back. It was still as fresh in his mind as though it were three minutes ago. Surely there was something he could have done to stop Dean. Maybe if he'd been a better brother, Dean wouldn't have felt like he needed to do it. Maybe if he were a better person than people wouldn't keep dying. People, innocent people wouldn't keep losing their lives. And that was it. It was all he could bear.
..
Dean felt something was wrong. His eyes snapped open and he focused. Sam was in trouble. Was there some kind of creature after him? No. Was he in danger from a human? No. Was he- Yes. He was considering ending it. He could tell from the way Sam's head was bowed down to the grave. To his grave. Dean could have sworn he felt his heart break. His little brother, the baby brother he had fought so hard to protect, had died to protect, was going to end his life. He couldn't let him do this. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would do what he could to prevent this. Sam deserved a long life. Not this.
..
Sam had been home for about an hour. He'd gone to Dean's grave to say goodbye. To apologise. To say that he'd be there soon. Maybe he wouldn't be with his parents but he would be with Dean. Surely they would be in the same place; they'd both committed suicide.
Sammy, no.
He froze he could have sworn he could hear Dean. But that was impossible. Unless he had unfinished business. But what?
Protecting you. Now don't you dare end your life.
Sam shook his head and got up. It was his imagination. Nothing more than stress. Stress. Dean. He needed to be with Dean. He shuffled through to the bathroom and slipped into the shower.
Sammy, please, don't do this. You do not want to do this. Think of Bobby.
Sam ignored it. He kept ignoring it, washing and getting out. He stared at himself in the mirror. Thin, pale. He already looked dead. He brushed his teeth quickly before slipping through to the bedroom, slipping some pajamas on. His landlord would come round a little later in the evening to collect his rent and he would be found then.
Sam slid under the covers and closed his eyes before reaching out for the anti-depressants he had been prescribed the months before.
SAMUEL WINCHESTER I SAID NO.
Sam through his head back, downing the bottle. He let the bottle fall to the ground and swallowed. It took him a few goes but he eventually got it all down. Licking his dry lips, he curled up before straightening. Shit. He hadn't written a suicide note. Groggily he groped for his phone, typing out a messy 'I'm sorry' text to Bobby before dropping the phone and closing his eyes. The darkness was so comforting.
..
Dean was standing in front of him, tears pouring down his face from pitch black eyes. He looked scared, upset, disappointed. It killed Sam to see his brother looking at him like that. Dean shook his head before looking away, beginning to walk off. It didn't take Sam more than a second to follow him. He didn't care if he died. He just wanted his big brother. A yell echoed in his ears.
"SAMMY NO! NOT YOU AS WELL! NOT MY SON!"
Silence.
Bobby had stayed true to what Dean had requested. He had sworn on his grave and gotten Sam out the hunting business. Sam had found an apartment back in Lawrence; he'd wanted to be close to his family. Bobby came to check on him whenever he wasn't out hunting things that go bump in the night and it was nice. If you could call a secluded life with no one to see, nowhere to go and nothing to do nice. He had no choice. Every time he tried to get close to him, the vision of his brother laying on the brink of death, blood pooling around his wrists sprung to mind and forced him back. He couldn't develop relationships anymore. He just couldn't. He was too scared of someone else leaving. Everyone left in the end. Castiel. Dean. What was the point in continuing to try?
..
It was coming up to the third month anniversary of Dean's death. Sam wasn't able to sleep. He kept tossing and turning, trying to think back to that night; no, he didn't need to think back. It was still as fresh in his mind as though it were three minutes ago. Surely there was something he could have done to stop Dean. Maybe if he'd been a better brother, Dean wouldn't have felt like he needed to do it. Maybe if he were a better person than people wouldn't keep dying. People, innocent people wouldn't keep losing their lives. And that was it. It was all he could bear.
..
Dean felt something was wrong. His eyes snapped open and he focused. Sam was in trouble. Was there some kind of creature after him? No. Was he in danger from a human? No. Was he- Yes. He was considering ending it. He could tell from the way Sam's head was bowed down to the grave. To his grave. Dean could have sworn he felt his heart break. His little brother, the baby brother he had fought so hard to protect, had died to protect, was going to end his life. He couldn't let him do this. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would do what he could to prevent this. Sam deserved a long life. Not this.
..
Sam had been home for about an hour. He'd gone to Dean's grave to say goodbye. To apologise. To say that he'd be there soon. Maybe he wouldn't be with his parents but he would be with Dean. Surely they would be in the same place; they'd both committed suicide.
Sammy, no.
He froze he could have sworn he could hear Dean. But that was impossible. Unless he had unfinished business. But what?
Protecting you. Now don't you dare end your life.
Sam shook his head and got up. It was his imagination. Nothing more than stress. Stress. Dean. He needed to be with Dean. He shuffled through to the bathroom and slipped into the shower.
Sammy, please, don't do this. You do not want to do this. Think of Bobby.
Sam ignored it. He kept ignoring it, washing and getting out. He stared at himself in the mirror. Thin, pale. He already looked dead. He brushed his teeth quickly before slipping through to the bedroom, slipping some pajamas on. His landlord would come round a little later in the evening to collect his rent and he would be found then.
Sam slid under the covers and closed his eyes before reaching out for the anti-depressants he had been prescribed the months before.
SAMUEL WINCHESTER I SAID NO.
Sam through his head back, downing the bottle. He let the bottle fall to the ground and swallowed. It took him a few goes but he eventually got it all down. Licking his dry lips, he curled up before straightening. Shit. He hadn't written a suicide note. Groggily he groped for his phone, typing out a messy 'I'm sorry' text to Bobby before dropping the phone and closing his eyes. The darkness was so comforting.
..
Dean was standing in front of him, tears pouring down his face from pitch black eyes. He looked scared, upset, disappointed. It killed Sam to see his brother looking at him like that. Dean shook his head before looking away, beginning to walk off. It didn't take Sam more than a second to follow him. He didn't care if he died. He just wanted his big brother. A yell echoed in his ears.
"SAMMY NO! NOT YOU AS WELL! NOT MY SON!"
Silence.