HEART WEARY

by Spense

Set following the Supernatural episode "It's a Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester", Season 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing, etc.

Chapter One

Sam sat just watching the closed motel door in disbelief. From his place sitting on the far bed, the shut door looked ominous and final. He was truly defeated. Completely. It had begun on the day that Dean had hit him, twice, for using the ESP legacy from Azazel. He knew then that it was only a matter of time before his brother would leave him. He just didn't expect it now.

Sam had been unnerved already from his conversation with Uriel. He was safe only as long as he was useful. That was enough to rattle him. Shaken, he knew he hadn't handled it well when Dean had sat down and asked him calmly why he'd gone back on his pronouncement to quit using his powers. It was like he'd lit a powder keg in Sam.

He wasn't proud of his reaction. Not by a long shot. But the legacy of secrets between them both was gnawing away at the bond, and the double standard Dean held just sent him over the edge. Not a bright thing to do right now, no doubt about it. Dean was like a soldier still on edge from combat, and his reactions were exactly that.

The argument had been short, explosive, and violent. Full of comments from both of them that would have been best never said. At least Dean hadn't hit him this time.

Sam touched his aching jaw absently as he thought about it. He had been pretty convinced that he'd never seen Dean as angry as he'd been that day when he'd caught Sam and Ruby in the act of exorcising the demon. Ever. His feeling of being in another reality had only intensified as Dean had begun pulling his clothing out of the closet. It was a testament to his addled state of mind that all he could think about was the fact that Dean had actually hung something up. On a hanger.

But now, now . . . this time, . . . well, Dean had been madder than ever. Sam had made the mistake of asking him what he'd wanted him to do. Kill Sanheim by whatever means necessary? Or die.

He tried to jumpstart his brain. Dean hadn't answered the question. He'd just said again that Sam 'was turning into something that he would hunt.'

Even the slamming of the motel room door, and the creaking of the Impala's car door didn't penetrate his shock. He sank down to the bed, listening to the distinctive sound of the engine roaring away into the distance. Even that didn't even dim the words still hanging in the air. 'You're something I would hunt'.

Sam wasn't sure how long he sat there, in the room now empty of anything 'Dean'. Dean himself, or any of his belongings. This time Dean really had left. Uriel's words burned over the echo of Dean's comments. "You're alive only because you're useful."

Sam closed his eyes. He'd been forsaken by God. Castiel hadn't even wanted to touch him. He finally had, but only as saying that he was glad that Sam had turned his back on his powers.

He had nothing left. God had forsaken him. Dean had finally had enough. The two constants that had kept him going, kept him making the hard choices, and kept him striving towards the light had given up on him.

Then the heart ache hit. Dean had left. Sam had known that Dean would be furious. But he didn't realize exactly how much.

Dean had left.

The angels didn't like him much. All Sam's prayers were going to go unanswered.

Dean left.

He wasn't coming back.

He hadn't even had to say why. They both knew. It was because Dean didn't want to have to kill Sam when he finally went too far. Because he'd already gone too far. Uriel had said as much.

Sam felt what was left of his heart shatter as he sat in silence on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he'd shared with his brother.

Despite what Dean had always claimed, Sam didn't really cry a whole lot. You didn't survive in the Winchester household without being exceptionally tough. But here he was, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks, dripping of his chin, unchecked and unnoticed.

Sam bit his lip as he sat, completely limp, unable to move. He'd lost everything. Absolutely everything. Jess. Dean. His mom. His Dad.

Jess, who reminded him on an innocent time. A time to take a breather and remember that life was more than darkness and misery. An all too brief time of joy, until the darkness he carried around with him took her too. Her only fault was to cross paths with him and to fall in love with him. He had dared to love her too, and she died.

His mother, who had traded his life before he was even born in order to save John. Dean had told him in the car as they'd driven back. He'd only gotten bits and snatches through Dean's brief explanation of what had happened. Mom was a hunter. Their grandparents were hunters. Dad had died, and Mom had brought him back. At Sam's expense.

Sam had never had a chance. Before he was born, he'd been sacrificed. John had clearly figured it out somewhere along the line. Not about what Mary had done, clearly, but that Sam was tainted. That was why Sam had never been good enough for him. Just a poor pale copy of the perfect son. Dad had appeared to Dean when his elder son, the perfect soldier, had shot the yellowed eyed demon. Put his hand on his son's shoulder, and smiled his approval. Sam had stood on the outside of that warm circle, as he had his whole life, and had rated only an absent smile of notice.

And Dean. Like Dad sacrificing himself for Dean, Dean had sacrificed himself for Sam. And how had Sam repaid him? Lying. Going down the dark road, against Dean's clear wishes. More lies. Some repayment.

Then Dean was raised by an ANGEL. Who had that kind of worthiness? It was so obvious. Dean clearly was worthy. Anybody could see that. Sam was not.

He'd lost everybody. Failed everybody in this life. Dean was better off without him, no doubt about that. It was only right that he'd leave. He should. Sam's taint should not rub off on him any more than it already had.

Dean would be fine without him. He'd have Bobby. Sam wasn't blind to the kind of bond that had developed between them. Bobby was the kind of father that John should have been, but wasn't. It was only right that Dean should have that. Sam had failed Bobby too. He should have stepped in and tried to fill that hole for the man when Dean had died. Bobby deserved that, deserved to have even a pale copy of the original. But Sam had screwed that up too.

Sam sat there as the night grew deeper, tears falling forlornly, lost in thought as the pieces of his life slowly crystallized around him. He'd failed everybody in absolutely every way possible. He was dammed. There was no question about it. He would go to hell because even God had given up on him.

And he was so tired.

It was time to go. The world would be a much better place without him.

But, he could chose how he went out. And he could do one last good thing. For himself, not for anybody else. Not for atonement, or penance. He saw clearly that he was beyond that. No, this was for himself alone.

He would take out Lilith. The seals would remain intact if he did that. Dean would be safe. He could continuing hunting, or live another kind of life. And Sam would be . . . free. In hell, but free of the pain of this life. And that was enough. It had to be, because that was all he had left.