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The hunt had been going sideways from the beginning. Sam should have listened to his gut and called it off, but he was determined to prove himself after the last mess up.
Now Dean lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines keeping his broken body alive. Sam sat beside him, trying to keep the tears from streaming down his face like a broken dam as the doctors words echoed in his head - 'it doesn't look good.'
He had failed his brother, the one person he always swore to protect. The person who always swore to protect him. And he did. Dean jumped in-front of a vampire last second, almost screaming at Sam to run. Sam didn't know how he could ever forgive himself if Dean.. no, he couldn't even think it.
The door opened and Bobby walked in, taking in the scene with sad eyes. "Any change?" he asked gently, already knowing the answer. Sam just shook his head, not able to speak through the tears that were now spilling from his eyes. He bit his knuckles to hide the sounds of stifled sobs. Bobby put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It ain't your fault, kid. He’s a fighter. An idjit, but a fighter nonetheless.”
But Sam knew better. He should have told Dean the truth about his doubts with the hunt. Instead, he kept quiet, and now Dean was paying the price. Guilt and sorrow crushed Sam under their weight. All he could do now was pray to whatever god might listen - don't let his brother die.
He knew he wouldn’t get a worthy answer. He stopped believing years ago. ‘Atheist’ wasn’t the right word. He knew God—Chuck—existed, and was one bastard of a man. Cass was dead too, so there was no use in asking him for help. His life had gone to shit at this point.
He didn't think he would survive in a world without Dean. He could, but he didn’t want to. Not ever.