A.N.: Hello again, it's me. I have to apologize in advance for this story, it's sad and dark and totally not what I set out to write when I plopped myself in front of my computer chair. I had plans to try and churn out another chapter of DW since it has been a million years or so since I have updated that one, but I just…I don't want to 'churn' out a chapter with no real passion behind it, I don't want to post something I have to force myself to write, you guys deserve better than that. So rest assured that I have outlined the next chapter of DW and will be writing it soon. I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update, life just happens, you know? Anyway this little one shot takes place in an AU S2, pretty much from AHBL part 1. It was beta-ed by the amazing and wonderful smalld1171 and all remaining mistakes are mine. Thanks for all who take a look. You guys are awesome.

Disclaimer: All the words, except for one phrase Sam says, are mine. I own nothing else.

He feels sick as he turns the gun in his hand; the weight from the weapon makes his voice catch in his throat, as if it is safe as long as it's hidden in the fleshy caverns.

He shakes his head with a broken chuckle, his gaze flitting from the gun to his brother's face. His brother's face that is expressionless, his eyes dead.

How the hell did they get here? He never imagined it would end like this.


It all started with Cold Oak. He remembers the pit of his stomach leaping and then plummeting as he saw Sam again.


But...there was a coldness to his face, a regret that shuttered behind his eyes as he raised them to his brother.

A confession shaken from trembling lips as he held up hands stained by death.

'I had to Dean. I had to.'

The man's name had been Jake and he had been out to kill Sam and usually Dean would have cheered his baby brother on, urged him to take out someone who was after him, but this time...

Something was different. Something had changed in the youngest Winchester.

He'd gotten a taste of blood, a taste of a destiny that had been leaked over his lips when he was just an infant.

And he'd liked it.

Dean tried to pretend that things were the same that the necessary evil had not started a ripple effect in his brother, but he couldn't ignore the demented pleasure Sam suddenly took from the hunt.

The way his face lit up as he snuffed out life.

It scared Dean.

More than he'd ever admit to the stone faced warrior he fought beside.

But Bobby...well, he'd never been good at keeping his mouth shut and playing nice and one night he asked Sam what the hell was wrong with him.

A question Sam blew off with a forced chuckle and feigned affection, but Dean could see the twisted desire flare to life in his eyes, the desire to shut up their friend.

For good.

So he wasn't surprised when he had to pull Sam off of Bobby two days later, wondering how many warning flags he had ignored as he and Sam sped down this metaphorically highway to their doom.

Dean remembered forcing his brother into the car, Sam stating with a shrug that 'things got out of control.'

Dean couldn't remember the last time they had been in control.

He'd tried to talk to him then, tried to break through the fortress of solitude that his little brother had erected over his heart, heartbroken when he got the automated response of 'I'm fine.'

And hadn't he learned from the best?

It'd only been two months since he first found his brother in the mud, his arm broken, his innocence washing away with the crimson that tainted his being.

Only two months...and now they are here.

'If your brother ever turns into a monster, you have to stop him Dean. You can't let him become something horrible. You have to, Dean. You have to.'

His father's word boom in his ears in time with his frantic heartbeat, the noise deafening as he sucks in air through his teeth.

"Is it time, Dean?" Sam inquires, his feet crunching dead leaves under his heavy boots.

Dean locks eyes with his brother, a myriad of questions and regrets and sorrow pouring out of his gaze as he blinks heavily. "Yeah, I think it might be."

"What are you waiting for?" he asks, his mouth a bitter and stern line on his face.

"Sammy," Dean swallows around his grief.

"What are you waiting for!" Sam bellows, casting his arms wide, his hand flung to the side in an almost sacrilegious gesture.

Dean screws his eyes shut, rotating the gun in his palm.

"Why did you do it, Sam?" Dean mutters. "Why?"

Sam's face falls for just a moment. "I had to."

"You've already said that! I had to! I had to! Had to what? Ruin everything? Why the hell would you do this?"

"It's my destiny."

"Bullshit! This was never your destiny. It was never our destiny." Tear stings his eyes as he pockets his gun and yanks the amulet from his neck angrily.

The design cuts into his skin as he shakes his fist at Sam. "This...this was our destiny. This is who we are."

Sam grits his teeth as he replies. "Were."

Dean can't stop the watery chortle that break free from his mouth and echoes out into the open air. "Were?"

"We can't go back, Dean."

Dean stares at the necklace for a moment, caught off guard by the wave of love that suffocates him.

He can't do this...he can't.

"Sammy, we can fix this." He mumbles.

"No, we can't."

"We can. We can. We will."

"We can't! I killed someone! Do you understand what that means?" Sam's hands tighten into fists at his sides.

"He was going to kill you. It was self-defense."

"I would have killed Bobby, if you hadn't have pulled me off, I would have wasted him."


"Yes. And what's worse, I would have liked it; I would have taken joy in it. Don't you get it man? I would have enjoyed it."

"We can get you help."

"The only help there is for me is in your pocket."

"Please Sammy, just let me help you."

"Help me?" Sam laughs the sound empty. "There is no help for me Dean; I'm a whole new level of freak."

"I know what you've been doing; I know you've been drinking that shit. It doesn't matter, we'll figure it out."

"It's too late, Dean. It's too late for me."


"Just let me go."

Dean shakes his head. "I said, no."

"I won't stop. I can't stop."

"Dammit, Sam! Why did you do this?"

"For you."

He fights the urge to topple over. "What? How is any of this for me?"

"Yellow eyes, he showed me what would happen, if I didn't kill Jake."

His steady diet of alcohol and coffee clamors to scale his throat.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"If I didn't kill Jake, he would have killed me. And you would have made a deal, just like Dad."

"What? No. Demons lie..." he breaks off, knowing full well that if anything ever happened to Sam he would move Heaven and Earth to get him back.

"I saw it. I saw you make the deal, I died in your arms."

"You idiot! You fucking moron, you don't know that was real!"

"It was." His conviction shakes the eldest Winchester to the core. "I know it was."

"Fine! It didn't happen. You didn't die Sam, I didn't make a deal."

Sam's eyes drop to the ground. "Because I did."

He tastes grinds on his tongue. "What?"

"I made a deal with yellow eyes."

"You didn't? No, no way."

"I'd lead hell; I'd be their leader if you lived."

"Son of a bitch."

Sam smiles and for just that moment looks like the brother Dean lost in the diner.

'Dude, I'm the one who's going to have to ride in the car with your extra onions.'

For just a brief snippet of time, he's Sammy again, every bit as innocent and vulnerable as he mumbles. "The road was paved with good intentions."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not apologizing for it."

"What am I supposed to do now, Sam? Huh?"

Sam smiles at him. "You're supposed to free me. You're supposed to make sure I don't turn into a monster." His eyes flash with something feral. "Because I want to Dean, God, my blood's screaming for it."

"I'll do it okay, I'll keep you safe."

Sam's eyes are sad as he takes another step forward. "You've kept me safe this whole time Dean, you would have done it until your dying breath. I know that. Now, let me go."



"I said no, Sam. This isn't how the story ends. Not our story. Not in some piece of shit field with unnamed graves all around us."

"This is as far as I go Dean. As far as I can go with what I am. Please."

His brother hasn't asked him for anything in the last two months, it makes Dean pause.

"You've always been able to make the hard choices, big brother. I'm asking you for one last favor."

Dean feels the bite of his teeth into his cheek as he chokes on what he wants to say, what he knows won't do a damn thing, but hurt Sam more.

"There has to be another way." he pleads.

Sam snorts. "When have we ever gotten a break?"

Dean chuckles. "The day after never."

His hand moves back to the gun without his knowledge, his knuckles white as his grip tightens around the object.

Sam looks relieved at the piece, his face mirroring a ghost of the man he used to be.

"I can't do this, Sam."

"Please Dean, for me."

He feels a tear spill over and trail down his face.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy."

"Me too, Dean."

The scream of the bullet as it barrels out of his gun sounds like goodbye.

And as his little brother takes his last breath, gathered into Dean's chest, a strange and content smile on his lips as he escapes his cursed destiny, Dean rejoices in the peace his brother has finally found.

His fingers curl around his gun once more.

One last time.

I'm coming baby brother, I'm right behind you.