Disclaimer: Sadly, I still own nothing. Supernatural belongs to E. Kripke – and I suppose a bit to CW.
A/N: The end of the season looming has me going batty. This is my prediction of how the last episode could play out. Most of this scene is pure wish fulfillment for me, but the last scene is exactly how I think it will play out on screen before they fade to black for 3 or 4 months…
T Minus 60
Dean checked his watch. It was almost time. Well, he figured it was almost time. He really didn't know exactly what time to be counting to. Sure, he'd known the date, but he hadn't bothered to check his watch at the time for the exact time he'd made the deal. He was hoping that midnight was a nice round number and would be acceptable. Seeing as how it was now exactly 11 pm and he hadn't heard anything that could remotely be construed to be a hellhound, he was betting he'd guessed right.
They'd had a nice dinner. Sam hadn't really eaten much, and really, now that he thought about it, neither had Bobby. Dean, on the other hand, had eaten one of the best steaks, maybe ever. The pie had been damn fine too. Sam didn't need to know that when he excused himself after dinner, it had actually been to throw up his entire dinner. Dean decided that it had definitely tasted better going down.
It had seemed like so much time. Well, not ten years worth maybe, but still a whole year. And now it was less than 60 minutes. Dean heard the door next to their room open and close. Bobby must be getting some air. Dean moved to the door.
"I'll just be outside, Sammy, ok?" Dean glanced at his brother hunched over the computer, typing madly. His cell phone, which had rung annoyingly almost all day, now lay silent beside him on the table.
Sam merely grunted in response.
Dean sighed and stepped outside, joining Bobby in the cool May night.
Bobby smiled when he saw Dean. It was a tense, sympathetic, sad kind of pull at the corners of his mouth, really, not a real smile. Dean had managed to get a few real smiles from Bobby at dinner by talking about the past.
It wasn't the past that Dean needed and wanted to talk about now. Now, he needed to talk about the future.
"Bobby." It was almost a growl. It wasn't quite the way Dean wanted it to come out, but he seemed to be having a little more trouble than usual controlling his voice.
"Dean?" Bobby pulled the ever-present flask from his pocket. Twisting off the cap he took a swig and passed it to Dean, who gratefully took it. He didn't want to be drunk. He'd be damned (he smiled at the irony of that statement!) if he was gonna be accused of seeking liquid courage. But he was so cold, so he welcomed the warm burn in his belly. He hoped it would quiet the shivering.
"Bobby. I need to ask you a favour." Dean began and cocked a questioning eyebrow at his friend. At his almost-dad.
"Son. You know you can ask me anything." Bobby's voice was a bit gruffer even than usual. Dean knew he was trying to keep his emotions in check to be strong for Dean.
"I need you to promise
me something."
"Told you. Anything."
"Ok. Well, really,
it's more like two things."
"Jesus, Dean. Just spit it out
ok? I'm not holding you to a specific number!"
Dean searched Bobby's face, holding his eyes with his own.
"I need you look after Sammy for me," Dean said in such a low voice that Bobby almost didn't hear them. He knew how much that alone was killing Dean, leaving behind that with which he had defined his life.
"You don't even have to ask that." Bobby grasped Dean's shoulder and squeezed. "What else?"
Dean's gaze fell to the ground.
"Help him…help him get rid…help him do the salt and burn." Dean looked up at Bobby though his lashes. "No fucking around. No waiting."
Bobby swallowed convulsively as he squeezed Dean's shoulder again. He couldn't force the words past his lips and his eyes filled with moisture, but he nodded. Dean was satisfied.
"Bobby."
Bobby just waited.
"Hmpf," Dean snorted mirthlessly. "Guess it was three things…"
Bobby waited.
"If. If I…" God. This was so hard. It was almost impossible to give up a lifetime, however short, of keeping up the walls, of keeping all the fears hidden and let any of them out. Dean cleared his throat.
"If somehow I come back…I need you to promise me you'll do the right thing, Bobby. If I come back, in any form, you have to kill me. Sam won't want to, but you can't trust what'll come back. You know you can't."
"Damn it Dean!" Bobby couldn't hear this. He refused to hear this. "You can't trust a demon! Your daddy was in Hell for almost an entire year. He got out and wasn't anything wrong with him."
"I'm not my Dad."
"Why do you always say that like it's a bad thing? You don't have to worry about the first two, but you'll have to trust me to use my own judgment on the last one."
Dean looked at the older hunter. No one outside their own circle could ever know the size of the heart that beat beneath that vest and trucker hat. Dean smiled gratefully at him.
"Just so long as you don't leave it up to Sam. Don't let him make the decision or… or do it. Please, Bobby?"
"Course not. I already told you I'd look after him for you. I'll look after him whether he wants me to or not."
"Thanks." Dean said simply and his own eyes filled with moisture. Bobby pulled him into a rough hug, and Dean let him, soaking in the smell and the comfort.
Dean broke the contact when he heard the sound of flesh hitting something solid.
"Sammy," he breathed and turned back to the room door.
"We'll need to leave in about 20 minutes, Bobby. You ok with that?" Dean paused with his hand on the door knob.
"Yeah." Bobby said out loud, but his heart screamed NO!
Dean entered the room to find his brother pushing up from his place at the table and heaving the computer up, looking as if his greatest wish at that moment was to send the computer smashing to pieces on the opposite wall.
"SAM!" Dean shouted, halting his brother in mid heave. It would have been comical if not for the look of absolute desolation on his brother's face.
"You so do not want to do that to your pride and joy! You don't hustle pool well enough to be able to replace that anytime soon."
Ashamed of losing control and looking weak and unsupportive in his brother's eyes, Sam put the computer down. Sam just stood at the table, his eyes downcast, his abandoned chair tipped over lying on the floor.
Dean sighed for what felt like the billionth time that day. He felt so bad for the pain his brother was in, it almost physically hurt. It almost made him regret making the deal. Almost. But not quite.
Dean gently took his brother by the arm and lead him over to the beds, encouraging him to sit on one while he sat across from him on the other.
Sam's puppy-eyes were in full force. Funny that one brother worked his whole life to ensure that his face was devoid of emotion as much as he could and the other wore his heart on his sleeve. Dean couldn't help but smile just a little at that.
Maybe one allowed the other. Maybe he hadn't done Sam any favours by allowing him to always express his emotions. If Dean had tried to harder to make Sam just suck it up, he wouldn't have fought so much with Dad. That would have made life easier…. And Dean wouldn't have had to suffer through so many chick-flick moments – like the one they were about to have.
But then, Sam wouldn't have been Sammy without all the girly-bits thrown in. And if there was one thing Dean knew for sure, he knew there was nothing about his brother that he would change. Oh, he'd take away his pain if he could, but that would be it.
"Look. I don't want you beating yourself up about this. You did everything you could. If there was any way out of this you would have found it. I know that. I appreciate it." Dean watched as his brother's eyes filled with tears. His own breathing hitched in his chest.
God. This was just so hard. It didn't matter that it was him dying this time. It hurt just as bad as when Sam had died in his arms. Cuz Sam was dying again right in front of his eyes. And he was never going to see his brother again after tonight.
Dean ran his hand over his face and scrubbed it through his hair. It was a little longer than he normally kept it. He'd missed his last haircut. He'd just thought what the fuck?
"Dean," Sam fought to keep the tears at bay. He knew that Dean hated chick-flick moments. He didn't want to make this any harder on his brother than it was already. This wasn't about him, it was about Dean.
"I'm not giving up." Sam's voice and face were earnest. He raised his hand as soon as he saw Dean begin to object.
"I don't want to hear all the what's dead should stay dead crap! Since when did anyone in our family ever respect that little tenant?" Sam's eyebrows knit into a frown. "I don't care how girly you think I am, damn it. I love you. You're my big brother damn it, and I'm not just gonna take this. I won't! And you won't be here to make me!"
Sam's eyes flashed defiantly.
"Please Sammy. I don't want to fight. I… I can't." Dean's voice was quiet. He looked up at his little brother through his lashes and smiled sadly.
"I'm so proud of you, ya know? I was proud of you going to Stanford, and I'm proud of the man you've become."
"If you are about to say that I'm a better man than you are, you can stop right there." Sam interrupted and put his hand on his brother's arm. Ordinarily, Dean might have pulled out of the contact, but he just stared at Sam's hand.
"A man's entitled to his opinion."
"I'm proud of you too, Dean. I've always been proud of the man you are. Proud to call you my brother, and I'm just not ready to give that up."
"It's out of our control now, Sammy. I need you to promise me something."
"I've already told you: I'm not giving up!"
Dean sighed. He felt bad that he'd left that little can of worms in Bobby's lap, but he trusted Bobby to be able to do the right thing when he knew that Sam would be blinded by his grief the way he was when Sam died.
"We'll just have to agree to disagree on that one, ok sport?" Dean's mouth lifted in a half-hearted attempt at a smirk.
"What then, Dean?"
"Promise me that you'll do what's best for you. I know you feel responsible for Lillith and the other demons and you won't give up hunting until she and the rest of them are taken care of, but after that. Go back to school. There are other ways that you can make a difference without living this life. It was never a good fit for you. I want you to have so much more. I want you to have the things you deserve."
"Dean," Sam choked on his brother's name. He had always wanted so much more for Dean. Well maybe not always. He'd been blind when he was younger, not seeing all the dreams that his brother had slowly but surely repressed and hidden and eventually forgotten.
There was a soft knock on the door. Bobby's voice came through. "Sorry boys, but if we're gonna get there by midnight, we have to leave now. Sorry."
"Coming Bobby," Dean raised his voice to answer. He stood.
Sam mirrored Dean's action and stood as well. There was less than a foot between them but Sam closed the gap between them to wrap his brother in a hug.
It was both their undoing as they breathed in the familiar scent of the other, willing it to memory for all time. Their breathing hitched in unison. Sam shook silently but a single sob escaped from Dean. They clung to each other for a moment before Dean broke away and moved quickly into the bathroom, closing the door.
He turned on the cold water and leaned over the basin, splashing water on his burning face and eyes. He straightened up and glared at himself in the mirror.
Get a grip, Winchester. What would your father say? Suck it up. You know what you have to do.
He had to be strong for Sam.
The walls were firmly back in place when he left the washroom.
"Ok, Sammy?"
Sam had erected his own walls and met Dean with his own stoic face. He didn't trust himself to answer with more that a curt nod, however.
Dean moved to the door.
"Don't you want your jacket? It's not that warm out," Sam said.
"No. I want you to keep it. And I don't think I'll be cold for long." Dean couldn't help but smirk at that.
"Not
funny."
"C'mon…it's a little funny."
"No. Not at all. There's no reason to think they'll take your body, Dean. Put the damn jacket on," Sam fairly growled.
In the end, Dean put the jacket on. He and Sam rode in the Impala. Bobby followed in his truck. Dean and Bobby had decided that Sam probably wouldn't be in any shape to drive back, so Bobby could tow the Impala. Dean was glad he wouldn't be around to see that.
Dean needed to drive though. He had to feel in control. Feel that he was calling the shots, coming on his own terms. He was man enough to live up to the bargain he'd made. But he also needed the comfort that he only got in the Impala. With his music. With his brother.
Too soon they were at the crossroads. It was 5 to midnight.
The brothers exited the Impal: the only home they'd ever really known. The doors creaked home in unison. Bobby walked up from where he'd pulled the truck in behind them.
And then they heard it. Baying. The hounds were out there. But they shouldn't attack because Dean had lived up to the bargain. He was at the crossroads and ready to pay. Well, maybe not ready, but he was there.
"Dean," Bobby's hand came up on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned to face the man who had become such a stalwart presence in their lives. Who was like a father to him.
Dean turned and pulled him into a hug.
"Thanks, Bobby. For everything. You've been like a father to me, and I've been so lucky to have you."
"Dean. Damn it. I would have been proud to have been able to call you my son." Bobby didn't try to hide the tears that fell as he returned the hug.
Releasing Bobby, Dean turned once again to his brother. His Sammy. And reaching for him, pulled him into an embrace.
"Never doubt that I did this willingly, Sam. It was worth it. Live for me, Sam."
"Dean," Sam sobbed as he held his brother to him tightly.
"I love you, Sam. That will never change. Nothing can ever touch that." Dean felt oddly detached, almost as if he wasn't really there, like he was watching himself and his brother say goodbye.
"I love you too, bro." Sam managed to choke out.
And then Dean was breaking away and walking to the centre of the crossroads. Sam moved as if to go with him and Bobby put a restraining hand on his arm.
Dean stood at the centre of the crossroads and slowly turned a circle, looking down each of the four roads, wondering who or what was coming and where it would come from.
Suddenly, he stopped and cocked his head as if he could hear something that Bobby and Sam couldn't. He was in profile to his brother and friend.
Suddenly, Dean flung his head back and arched his back. A grunt escaped from his grimacing face as a wave of intense pain shot through his body. And then he was collapsing limply to the ground.
"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he watched the light go out of his brother and his chest still.
A/N: So. As of now, this is how I see the season ending. Most of the dialogue is wish fulfillment, but the final scene is pretty much exactly like I think it will end – Dean's lifeless body falling at the centre of the crossroads. I was scarily accurate in my prediction for last year's final scene – written long before it aired – boys leaning against the Impala and all…I'll be surprised if I don't write another prediction between now and the last episode though….
I do have a second part to this in mind that is pure wish fulfillment on my part – because I honestly have no idea how Kripke is going to save/rescue our boy…. So if anyone wants the second part, let me know….