He thinks again and again—like a mantra to shut up the voices that clamor in him to stop in case it doeswork—as he puts Dean’s body on the pyre, that he has to try this, has to, that he’s being selfish. Dean deserves a goddamn chance at peace, and how he is now—it’s not peace. He can’t do anything, can’t touch, sleep, eat, fuck—he can’t even protect Sam. He just gets to stand by and watch, feeling useless, and for all Dean’s sometimes been a mystery to Sam, Sam knows that those things there, those things he can’t even try to do now, pretty much outlined Dean’s purpose in life. And it’s fucking unfair to expect Dean to live like that just because Sam thinks he can’t live without his big brother.

(Source: lazy-daze.livejournal.com)