Just a vision I had of what was going through Sam's mind while he's sitting there at the end of 12x01. I normally don't tap into Sam like this, because I identify very strongly with Dean and his character, but something about Sam's situation here really struck me as I watched this episode. He has no clue Dean is alive- while he's here, being tortured, he's still under the impression that the most important person in his world just gave his life to save Earth and kill the Darkness. I kind of envision this as the reason he channels Dean so strongly when he's being interrogated. He's angry at the world, not just these women for kidnapping him, and his mind is in dark places without even needing whatever drug they gave him. Say what you will about Dean loving Sam more than Sam loves him-I don't believe this to be true at all.

Characters and quotes belong to CW and Supernatural, not me.

Sam sat shivering on the wooden step in the frigid cellar. Cool drafts of air circulated in the dimly lit basement, sliding under the window panes and the door several feet above him, wafting against his damp clothing and setting off a forest of goose bumps along his skin. The icy water was long since gone but it still clung to his clothes and chilled him to the core.

It had to be a mess, Sam, or you wouldn't believe it was your life.

But, then, Sam thought, it could very well be after effects of the cattle prod that had been used repeatedly on him, both for interrogation and abuse. With every breath he could feel the bruises and abused skin that lined his ribcage and torso, and now that he was really taking stock, the constant pain of the burn to his foot was making itself known in the worst way. A distant, detached part of Sam's brain reminded himself that needed to be properly treated before it got infected.

We're gonna get you to a real doctor. You're gonna be just fine.

I drove you to the ER on my handlebars.

He couldn't bet the odds of that happening were great. The two British Women of Letters meant business, and with one failed escape attempt under his belt, he was sure any and all precautions would be taken to make sure he gave them the information they wanted. They were smart, but even more dangerous, they knew he was smart, and determined. He'd shown his hand, and a sinking pit in his stomach told him he'd be unlikely to get away with it again.

Sam's hand clenched, and the split skin on his hand screamed at the abuse it was under. Everything, everything, hurt so badly, even his head, still shaky and twisting with images on the periphery of his vision, whispering in his ear with echoes of doubt and accusation that had been thrown his way. He could still see Jessica, staring wide-eyed down at him from a flaming ceiling, a scream caught in her throat. Could see Kevin drop like a cut marionette, his eyes vacant burnt holes.

And now? Kevin? No, that is not on you. Kevin's blood is on my hands.

Could see Dean, blood streaming down his face, propped up against the Impala, unable to keep a straight face through the swelling and blood and pain that Sam had put him through. "It's YOUR fault."

Sam wished now he had the energy to get another shard of glass and properly slit his throat, as the image of his beaten brother replayed in his head. Because this time around there was no Dean to save him, no big brother to miraculously swoop in and save the day like he always did.

I'm Batman.

We'll figure it just like we always do.

Looking out for you? It's kind of been my job. More than that, it's kinda who I am.

As long as I'm around nothing bad is going to happen to you.

Dean was gone, lost to Sam forever, and that hurt more than Sam's aching ribs, his burning foot, or his seizing brain put together.

It hasn't been the same without you man.

I can't do this alone.

They'd been pitted before the big bad uglies before, and usually barely got away. Whether it was Azazel, Dick Roman, Michael and Lucifer, or any other larger than life being, somehow they always came out with their heads above water.

Honestly, I think the worlds going to end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin'.

But Amara, the Darkness. The moment she set her eyes on Dean, the second the Mark was lifted from Dean and she was allowed to physically manifest on Earth, Sam knew. The thought fluttered weakly but persisted in the corner of his mind as they found out she ate souls, she was God's sister, and that she had an infatuation with Dean. Every time Dean protested, insisted it was nothing and she was just another thing to kill, another entry in the journal and nothing to worry about.

You said you were close. Dean, how'd she get away? I'm sorry, what part of God's frickin' sister didn't you understand? She overpowered me, end of story.

Dean's not going to make it out of this one, the ominous thought murmured, and Sam shoved it further down every time.

Because to have a date with Death was one thing (and they'd had a few of those, Dean more than him, and look how they'd turned out), but to have a dark desire for the very entity who wants nothing better than to crush the Earth between her fingertips? You don't really walk away from that, even if they did have a past history of seemingly defeating the undefeatable.

Killing things that need killing is kind of our job.

Hey, they'd done that this time too, right? As soon as Sam had seen the Sun shining brightly in the sky, unhindered, he could feel Earth and everyone on it take a deep breath and let it out in a collective sigh of relief. They were ok. The Earth could keep on spinning.

But with no brother to celebrate the win with, and given Sam's current position, he really couldn't put down a W for the team, now could he? Because he wasn't part of a team anymore. There was no we, there was only I. And suddenly Sam felt for all the times Dean had been left alone by the family he tried so hard for, gave up his life and future for.

Always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up. You never told me that.

I just never realized how long you've been cleaning up Dad's messes.

Hunters are never kids. I never was. I didn't even stop to think about it.

The very thought was crushing and all encompassing. Their days of double teaming monsters…

I'll tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches I possibly can.

…riding in the Impala…

Welcome to the Winchester Motel. We don't have cable, but we do have room service.

You steal my baby, you get punched.

…bitching at each other…

No chick flick moments. Alright, jerk. Bitch.

You look more like a... seventh-grader at his first dance.

It's not food anymore Dean! It's Darwinism!

…and eating crappy diner food were over.

Now, your inferior versions, they'll just take one donut, split it down the middle. Boom.

I can't do this man. I can't live on rabbit food. I'm a warrior!

No more Dean asking him for pie…

Hey, see if they have any pie! Bring me some pie!

…losing at rock paper scissors…

Dean, always with the scissors.

…listening to loud, out of date music…

It's the greatest hits of mullet rock. House rules Sammy. Driver picks the music, and shotgun shuts his cakehole.

Shh, just let it wash over you. Just take it in.

You're humming Metallica? It calms me down.

…turning at every attractive girl he thought he had a chance with…

Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real.

…pretending he was tougher than sandpaper…

You're the best damn hunter I've ever seen.

Hold me Sam, that was beautiful.

I'll kill anything! Aw, he's adorable.

Dude! Stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap. It's not helping!

I'm not going to whine about my bullshit problems.

…when there was so much more.

I was just a witness.

You're not a grunt Dean. You're a genius.

How I feel, this…Inside me. I wish I couldn't feel anything Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.

No more Sammy.

Not bad Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?

Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to these kind of things.

Rise and shine Sammy!

Heya Sammy.

But Sammy had been Sam before, right? Right. It's not like Sam hadn't lost his brother before.

I need my brother.

It was 2008, and Sam had lost Dean 100 Tuesdays over, each more baffling and unpreventable as the last. Until it was Wednesday, and Dean stayed dead. Sam had hunted like a thing possessed then, always keeping an ear out for the Trickster and eluding Bobby or anyone else that might make him feel.

Whoever said Dean is the dysfunctional one, has never seen you with a sharp object in your hand.

Dude, how many Tuesdays have you had? Enough.

It was May 2, 2008, Sam's birthday, but in the midst of surviving an attack from Lilith and watching his brother get torn to ribbons, he'd completely forgotten about the big 25. All that had been on his mind then was revenge against Lilith, and he'd teamed up with Ruby to take Lilith and any other demon down.

I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I'm just…I'm scared Sam. I'm really scared.

I mean, if this is my last day on Earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward.

Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you, ok? And remember what I taught you.

It's around May 7, 2012, and Sam was watching waves of pulsating energy come off Dick Roman. He covers his face from the black goo, and then Dean's gone and Kevin's gone and he's all alone with no answers. He doesn't look for Dean, because that's what they promised to do, and he doesn't answer his phone because he doesn't know how anymore, and in the middle of feeling lost and confused he finds Amelia.

You were in Purgatory? For a whole year? Yeah, time flies when you're running for your life.

I had no one. No one. And for the first time in my life I was completely alone, and honestly I didn't completely have a road map. So yeah, I fixed up the Impala and I just drove.

Did you look for me Sam? Good, that's good. No, we always told each other not to look for each other. That's smart, good for you. Of course we always ignored that because of our deep abiding love for each other. But not this time, right Sammy?

It's June 15, 2014, and Sam watches in horror as an angel blade sinks into Dean's chest. Before Dean dies, he says he's proud of them, and then Sam feels the moment Dean stops breathing. And then Dean's body vanishes from the bunker amidst the stink of sulfur, and Sam's learned his lesson—uses all his resources and hunting allies to track his brother down, because that's what they promised and he's making up for last time.

If the situation were reversed, and I was dying, you'd do the same thing for me. No Dean, I wouldn't.

I don't want to use this blade on you! Oh that sucks for you, doesn't it? 'Cause you really mean that!

I'm beat man. One battle at a time. You know? So I'm just gonna grab my brother some cholesterol. And then I'm gonna get drunk.

I watched you die and I carried you…I carried your corpse into your room. And I put your dead body on your bed. And then you just…

Now its Mayish, 2016, because in the middle of the hunt for Amara he's forgotten to keep track of what day it was, and he's watching the sun resume its former glory, and he knows what that means about his brother.

You know, if this works, um, that bomb goes off… I know.

But Sam doesn't know what to do, what to think now—experience tells him Dean can come back to him, because if there's one thing Dean knows how to do, it's how to come back and be there for the little brother that needs him, that will never stop needing him. It's his job.

Don't you dare think that there's anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you.

Not that I blame him. He gave me an order and I didn't listen; I almost got you killed.

I'm going to take care of you. Because that's my job, right? Watching after my pain in the ass little brother.

But logic tells him this wasn't a time loop, a demon deal coming to collect, a magic bone opening a portal to Purgatory, or death by angel blade. This was a few hundred thousand souls crammed into one human man, and set to vaporize. How could Dean have walked away from that when clearly even the Darkness didn't survive?

We know a little bit about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.

Dean certainly didn't expect to walk away. He came at the end like he always did, with arms wide open and a grim smile on his face. After all, when you were raised by John Winchester into the life, martyrdom came easy.

Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.

No matter how many people I save, I can't change that.

Not that Sam hadn't tried to take that choice out of Dean's hands. He'd been willing to take the Mark and lock Amara away within himself, if only to prevent Dean from having to suffer the same injustice as before. The fact that Dean couldn't take it anyway didn't matter—he could see his brother, his rough around the edges, hero of a brother tear more people apart, and the look of self-loathing he wore afterward.

Tell me you had to do this. Tell me it was them or you!

Chuck had agreed with him, thankfully—Dean saved the world too many times before to be shouldering the same heavy responsibility again. It was the least Sam could do.

You saved my life over and over. Man, you sacrifice everything for me, don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.

I've been looking up to you since I was four.

You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit.

Look how well that had turned out.

We need someone to get close to her, someone with a …personal connection.

And where was Dean now that he had saved the Earth and all the people on it?

We gotta save as many people as we can.

Billie's even voice and grim face loomed in Sam's mind.

So the next time you or your brother bite it. Well, you're not going to Heaven or Hell; one of us, and Lord I hope it's me, we're gonna make a mistake and toss you out into the Empty. And nothing comes back from that.

Dean didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be thrown into a giant, black, endless hole for the rest of eternity. Dean, of all people, didn't deserve the Empty.

Why do we have to sacrifice everything?

Dean deserved Heaven, or at least a place to live peacefully without threat of the world ending or the weight of hunting on his shoulders, but Sam wasn't naïve enough to think after sacrificing himself for the good of the world that that was going to change Billie's mind.

I'm just gonna make sure that when you die, you stay dead. Subtle difference.

Sam's fingers tightened around a piece of glass that had found its way into his pocket. The sharp edges pricked the pads of his fingers, but what was a little more blood, really?

Who said he couldn't still meet up with his brother?

Whoa, easy tiger.

No chick flick moments, come on. Yeah, you love chick flicks. Yeah, you're right, I do. Come here.

You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you? I'm not gonna let you die period.

For what it's worth, I got your back.

Thank you Sammy. I love it.

There ain't no me if there ain't no you.