Dean is dying. It doesn't matter how or why he got here, all he knows is that he's slowly bleeding out into the dirt. A couple feet away, Dean's phone lies buzzing. It's probably Sam, updating him on research from the motel, but Dean can't muster the strength to crawl over and answer.
He blinks his eyes, breath ragged and shallow. Dean doesn't want to die, not like this, not now. With his last bit of strength, Dean manages to gasp out a name. The only one who can hear him now.
It's barely audible, even to Dean's own ears. He waits, for all he can do is wait. No one comes. Dean knows he won't come. After all, Dean had pushed him away. Why does everyone seem leave you? There's only one common denominator here and it ain't Sammy. Dean squeezes his eyes together, but it doesn't stop the sudden flow of tears. He's going to die completely alone, and it's all his fault. He can feel the life slowly draining out of him.
"I'm sorry." His mouth forms the words, but no sound comes out.
"I'm sorry." Dean doesn't even know who he's apologizing to. He's failed too many people and it's too late to make amends. As his world fades to black, Dean breathes his last.