"Are any of you Bobby's next of kin? Or perhaps be heir to his assets?"

An insurance representative had come up to the hospital room where Bobby lay dying, his bedside surrounded by you, Dean, and Sam. Dean stands up abruptly, his green eyes dark as he throws a punch at the wall beside the man.

"We don't need your goddamn help. Bobby will be fine. Get out."

The man's eyes widen and he hurries away, muttering under his breath about manners while Dean runs a hand through his hair. He sits back down beside you, his leg bouncing as he stares at Bobby.

"Can we go outside?"

Dean whispers to you, the hurt in his voice only audible to you. God, he needed you. The thought of losing Bobby, basically his second dad, was excruciating to him. As if anything else could go awry in his life, now this. What was next? Dick Roman shooting you in the head?

"Yeah."

He hears you whisper back, his hand immediately grabbing yours and ushering you into the hallway. He hated hospitals. So sterile, so gloomy. You don't speak much until Dean gets you both outside, sitting down in the courtyard as the autumn sun shines above you. The audacity.

"I'm sorry."

Dean murmurs.

"I just can't…I don't want anything to happen to him. I just don't understand why I can't have anything good for long."