Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor any of the characters. I only own the plot and the poems.

Saying Goodbye

Chapter Two

00000

Losing is difficult

Especially for me,

But all I see

Is that you belong here

Always standing near.

And yet you're leaving.

After all these years

Of protection and faith…

You're finally saying goodbye.

00000

"No," Dean dropped Sam's hand on the bed and shot to a standing position, "I'm not going to lose him." He paced the floor. "He saved me. I'm gonna' save him now. There's a gotta be way! Maybe a life force demon or maybe I should just summon a freaking Reaper-"

"Dean," John stood up and reached out, grabbing Dean's arm and forcing him to stand still, "you can't stop this. Like you said, he only has a few days. Don't waste them."

Dean's once hopeful expression fell to nothing. His eyes dropped to the floor and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Why him? Why our Sammy?" Dean whispered quietly, knowing there was no answer, at least, not a verbal one.

Before either man could register what was happening they had embraced again. Dean's composure fell, as if hugging his father allowed him to open locked doors.

He finally cried, gripping his dad's jacket with all his might and sobbing into his shoulder.

John silently allowed his own tears to slide out, the pain of hiding them lessening only slightly. He tightened his grip on Dean, wishing he could allow himself the luxury of sobbing too, but deep down he knew he had to stay strong.

Dean's thoughts sent words tumbling from his mouth, words that had been burned into his tongue.

"I'm going to miss him so much."

Dean sobbed heavily, his nose running. He sniffled, trying to regain his composure. After several moments of gulping and deep breaths he finally pulled away, slightly embarrassed by his emotional display. But, he was even more embarrassed when he found that his father was wiping away his own tears.

"I'm sor-"

"No, we both needed that." John cleared his throat and made his way back to the chair he'd been sitting in. He sat down stiffly, staring at Sam the whole time.

"Dad," John looked over, his eyes landing softly on his oldest son, "all I wanted was for us to be a family again. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"This," John motioned to Sam, "was not your fault. I know that Sam wouldn't blame you- no one does. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself when it wasn't your fault."

Dean looked away, the use of past tense digging into his heart. He nodded, even though he didn't agree.

"Is there any chance that he'll wake up?" John's voice was hoarse and flat. Dean looked once more at the back of his dad's turned head for what seemed like the millionth time.

"I don't know. They-um- they gave him a ton of medication."

The silence engulfed them again. Dean walked to his seat and sat down slowly. He reached over and smoothed back Sam's bangs again. They sprang back defiantly in to a sloppy heap.

"I love you." John's voice cracked and he looked at Sam then Dean. "I love you both."

000000

"Next time I am so not digging the grave," Sam mumbled grumpily as he limped out of the graveyard they'd just burned a skeleton in.

"Dude, I'm the one who always digs the grave." Dean closed the gate behind him, as if that would somehow hide that there was a body missing.

They made their way silently to the car and got in. Sam kept glancing over at his brother, but Dean ignored him.

When Dean finally started the car he reached for the volume dial on his radio and turned it up with a flick of his wrist.

"DEAN!" Sam leaned over and turned the music down until it was only a slight hum in the background.

"I've told you a million times Sammy, driver picks the music and shotgun-"

"Shuts his cake hole. I know, it's just that I'm not really in the mood to listen to grown men yell at me." Sam mumbled while unconsciously rubbing his head.

"Hey, you alright?" Dean glanced over at Sam's weary face and tried to catch his eye.

"Yeah… my head just hurts a little." Sam rubbed his forehead a little bit rougher.

"Want anything? Like a Tylenol?"

"Nah- that's alright." Sam shut his eyes and leaned his head against the window.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes, Dean!" Sam snapped, a little bit harsher then he'd meant to. At the moment, he honestly didn't care; his head was bothering him more than normal. He let his mind drift…

"Sam, wake up… come on man!" Dean was shaking his shoulder, but Sam didn't want to move. His head felt like a ton of bricks and he had no will power to lift it.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was panicked. Sam felt two fingers rest on his throat as Dean searched for any sign of life.

Sam chose that moment to open his eyes and Dean jumped almost a foot, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car.

"Dude- don't you ever scare me like that again!" Dean was holding his chest while Sam sat up with extreme effort.

"Sam?" He was moving way too slowly. And his eyes- they just didn't look right.

"Say something!"

Sam continued to try and sit up and also to speak, but he was having an extremely difficult time with both.

Dean reached over and shoved him back onto the seat. He waited for Sam's sluggish gaze to land on him.

"Can you say something? Anything."

Sam closed his eyes in a slow blink, but they never opened again.

00000

Dean gratefully took the coffee his father offered him in the waiting room. The doctor from earlier had kicked both of the men out very suddenly.

Sam had apparently had some complications that needed all of the doctor's immediate attention. He did not wish the Winchester men to survey his every move.

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He reached across the table and picked up a magazine. The front cover had a wonderfully decorated granite rock with names scripted deeply into the stone. He jumped slightly when Dean's irritated voice broke through his foggy mind.

"What's taking them so long?" Dean swiped his fingers through his short hair while sipping at his coffee.

Just as the words settled in and were sparking for an answer, the doctor from earlier entered the room. This time, his face did not hide the truth.

000000

The funeral had been quick. Only a few family friends showed up, or in that case, were even invited, one of whom was Missouri… she admitted to knowing, but refused to say why she didn't tell the men.

Dean had given a small speech… very small. John had said a few words also.

Neither man cried… at least, not in front of each other.

They had thought it would be best to cremate Sam's remains so that no one like them would dig up his bones in the years to come and torch them… but they also decided to go back to Lawrence and give Sam a gravestone next to their mother's.

Somehow it just seemed fitting and, in his heart, Dean promised that he'd have both his and his dad's gravestones put there too. That way, wherever it is they end up they'd all be a family again.

The End