AN: So here it is. The last chapter. It's short and should be part of last chapter but I just wanted to separate them for impact. Sorry I haven't responded yet to all the wonderful feedback. I have read each and everyone and squealed with delight at them all. Thank you so much. I may, may, do an epilogue. But so far the muse hasn't spoken to me. We will see. Thanks again my lovelies, Snarkymuch. And if you're looking for a good read, check out Clean Slate by Clowns or Midgets. I beta'd it and it's awesome. It's also completely written, so updates with come fast.

Fell on Black Days-Chapter 6

The shards of wood rained to the floor around Dean. Time seemed to slow as he took in the scene. Sam in the shower, gun pressed to his temple, his face so stricken with pain.

Sam's eyes opened, and he locked gazes with Dean. His hand twitched, and he stumbled back, losing his footing. Just as he did, the gun fired, bullet grazing his head. Blood immediately began to flow from the wound above his eye.

Sam shook his head and pushed himself up, reaching for the gun again. Dean snapped into action and charged forward. He kicked the gun away from Sam and knelt down beside the tub.

"Sammy?" He reached out to touch the wound above Sam's eye, needing to know it was only skin deep.

Sam curled away from him. "I'm sorry, Dean. So sorry. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to see."

"Jesus, Sammy." Dean ran a hand through his hair.

Footsteps came toward the bathroom, and Dean looked over his shoulder. Garth was standing there in shock. Dean put up a hand stopping him in his tracks. "Go get the first aid kit. I've got this."

Garth nodded and then disappeared.

The blood stung as it dripped into Sam's eye. He should wipe it away but he felt frozen where he was. Maybe he didn't care enough to do it. Everything had been so simple, and now it was another failure to add to the rest.

He hated the way Dean was looking at him, like he was so broken. Maybe he was. Maybe he was too broken to fix. If Dean would just let him go …

"What were you thinking," Dean said, reaching out to brush the hair out of Sam's eyes.

"I don't know … I hurt you so much. I ruin everything I touch. You're better off without me."

"I would never be better off without my brother."

"You said it, Dean. You said it all. Everything I'd done wrong."

"When? I would never … Wait, you mean with the penny? Sammy, that wasn't me. It may have used my memories, but it twisted them. It was trying to hurt you. I never meant, and I never will mean, the things it said to you."

Sam blinked away the tears in his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood.

"But—"

"But nothing, Sammy. You have to believe me. Just like I told you before, make it stone number one and build on it. You understand? I would never, ever, want to live without you in my life."

Sam looked up at Dean, and a sob broke from him. Dean leaned over the tub and grabbed his brother, pulling him into his chest.

"I'll take care of you, Sammy. We'll fix this." Dean pressed his lips to Sam's hair. "We'll fix this."

There was a soft knock, and Dean lifted his head to look. Garth was waiting with the first aid kit.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Sam didn't say a word. He just let Dean help him to stand. Dean didn't break contact with him once as he led him into the living room.

Dean guided Sam to sit on the couch, and he took the first aid kit from Garth.

"We're going to need a towel. Make it a damp one. There's blood everywhere."

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

"Shh, no apologies, Sam. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I let you believe what that penny made me say. I ignored the signs something was wrong. If I had been a better brother, this would have never happened."

Garth appeared with the towel, and Dean took it from him. He gently began to wipe the blood away from Sam's face.

It made Dean's stomach want to rebel. The thought that this could have been so much worse. The thought of his brother's blood splattered across the bathroom made him want to sob. He fought back the painful feeling and focused on Sam's breathing, that he was alive and that they had gotten there in time.

The wound on Sam's head had nearly stopped bleeding. Dean opened the first aid kit and took out a piece of gauze. He dabbed at the cut.

"This is going to need a few stitches," Dean said.

Sam nodded mutely.

This was the one thing Sam didn't want to happen. He didn't want Dean to have to take care of him again. He didn't want to be a burden, and yet here he was, a burden in the worst way. He should have died.

Sam sat silently as Dean worked, not even wincing as the needle went in.

Dean tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread.

Sam looked down at his hands. Where were they supposed to go from here?

"Sam, we need to talk about this. There's no sweeping it under the rug this time."

"What do you want me to say?"

Dean ducked his head, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. "I need to know the truth, Sammy. Please tell me the truth. Are you planning on trying this again?"

Sam blinked. "I … I don't know. Honestly, Dean. I don't know."

Sam's confession hit Dean hard, and the painful lump returned to his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from crying.

He just wanted to wrap his brother up in his arms and protect him from the world, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. Not this time. There was no way to protect Sam from himself.

"Sammy..." Dean reached out and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "God, Sammy."

Sam choked back a sob. "I'm sorry, Dean. I never meant to hurt you."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He leaned forward and grabbed his brother, pulling him close. Sam clung to him, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder.

"I'm never going to let you go," Dean said fiercely. "You go, I go. We're in this together."

"Dean..."

"No, Sammy. I won't live without you, not again. We're a package deal."

Sam nodded against him. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to, okay?" Dean said. "You just stick with me and you'll be all right. We'll get through this together."

Dean rested his cheek against Sam's head. It was going to be okay because there wasn't another option.