The Long Way Home

Notes: Finally! I've been meaning to start uploading this forever, and now the time has come at last!

I've always been a bit startled at how the whole trial business ended up doing so much more harm than good. At the very least, I expected all the energy Sam gathered throughout the trials to be good for something, like a special Angel power or something. Or, once the Trials would have been finished, it might have turned him into an Angel all along.

So, in the good old plot bunny manner, that idea wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing it down, which happened some months ago. That considered, it's not exactly in sync with more recent developments in the show, but considering it branches off at the end of season 8 anyway, don't let that bother you :)

In any case, this story's grown onto me quite a lot - and I hope you'll grow to like it, too :)

Setting: AU from 8.23, Alternative Season 9

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Part One: The Long Way Home

WEEK ZERO

NOW, with Sam

"I don't think I can go on without you, Sammy."

As the car hit another bump in the road, the younger Winchester shifted in his seat before adjusting the jacket his head was resting against to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," he assured his brother in a tired, muffled mumble, "Just wake me again when you want me to drive."

Dozing off again, he vaguely realized Dean had probably awoken him for that reason in the first place. Then again, he doubted he was up for driving anyway.

He felt exhausted enough to sleep for days.

On that notion, if Dean let him, he probably would.

"Sam, can you hear me?"

Blinking tiredly, Sam noticed his body rocking along slightly on the bumpy road even before he opened his eyes properly.

So they were still driving, huh?

Yawning, he stretched his arms and legs as far as the relative comfort of the Impala allowed it. "Dude," he commented slowly, squinting at an annoyingly bright spot within the darkening landscape outside, "did you even take a break?"

Given the fact his brother had on occasion spent up to twenty hours straight simply driving, the casual shrug Sam received in response came as no surprise - the strained expression on Dean's face, however, was certainly disconcerting enough for him to bother waking up at last.

"Listen," Dean went on and turned his eyes back on the road, "I know I've been promising all kinds of stuff lately without any plans whatsoever." He grimaced unhappily. "But I'm working on it, okay?" he went on with his voice so close to breaking, "I'll find a way, so just wait, all right?"

Inhaling deeply, Sam failed to follow. "What are you talking about?" he asked slowly, straightening in his seat to see his brother's face better.

"The trials, Sammy," Dean offered tonelessly, "They messed you up pretty badly."

Opening his mouth, Sam could not bring himself to say it. "I'll be fine, Dean," he assured his brother gently, "after all, you're with me, aren't you?"

At the very least, that got a brief yet fond smile out of his brother. For a while, they sat in relative silence, snacking chicken wings and listening to AC/DC as they drove into the night. As every so often, Dean began humming along eventually.

Glancing over, Sam could not help smiling. This was so much like the many precious moments they had shared in the past, and even though he had refused to acknowledge it back then he enjoyed every second of it now. No matter what, they would just keep on driving - keep on fighting.

And yet, staring at his own, pale reflection in the mirror, Sam could not get rid of the feeling he had stopped fighting at some point.

There was no way he could have recovered that quickly.

There was no way they would be driving to Bobby's of all places.

And yet, Sam caught sight of a familiar salvage yard mere minutes later.

It looked exactly as he remembered it had... before their friend's house had burned down more than a year ago.

Closing his eyes, Sam leant back against the passenger seat.

No matter what his brother might be saying, the last trial must have killed him after all.

This was exactly what he expected his own heaven to be like.

FOUR DAYS AGO, with Dean

He could care less about the speed limit. He could care less about parking the Impala properly.

All that mattered was Sammy, and if he couldn't get to him in time...finishing the trials would kill him.

Tumbling out of the car, Dean made a mad dash towards the chapel.

Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Why hadn't he realized the very real risk of losing his brother rather than watching him hurt due to this entire ordeal?

Nothing, not even closing the Gates of Hell, was worth losing Sammy over it.

And if it was too late...

"Sam!" Kicking the door open, he felt pure ice running down his spine. Nearly out-droned by Crowley's pained wails, Sam was chanting what Dean feared to be the final words of the spell. "Sam!" he called out again, desperate.

Finally, he saw his baby brother's head turn around, unfocused eyes wide in either disbelief...or pain.

As Crowley collapsed on the spot, an excruciating second of silence passed before Sam even as much as recognized his brother.

"Dean?" Sam asked incredulously. His voice sounded as hoarse and broken as he looked, yet he was smiling at least. "It's done, Dean," he whispered softly and staggered slightly, "It's over."

Closing the distance in few hasty strides, Dean was at his brother's side in an instant. "Sammy," he croaked, barely even trusting his voice, "how are you feeling?"

Meeting his brother's eyes, Sam just smiled weakly. "I could be worse," he whispered and rested his forehead against his brother's shoulder.

Dean flinched when he sensed the sheer heat produced by the energy that was running through Sam's veins. Catching him in a tight hug, he felt more and more of his brother's weight resting on him, and it terrified him. "You did great, Sammy," he whispered and tightened his grip. He was trying hard to keep it together, but the truth was...

He was too late.

He had not managed keeping his brother from finishing the final trial. As a result... Sam was burning from the inside.

Easing them both to the ground when Sam's legs refused to support him at last, Dean stroked his brother's hair gently. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered.

He did not even care that they had succeeded - that the reddening sky introduced the Gates of Hell falling shut.

He did not care that countless shooting stars meant that something must have happened in Heaven.

He was losing his brother, and he did not even find any words to comfort him. Just as the ground beneath their feet started shaking, Sam was fading so very quickly.

All too soon, his body started trembling in Dean's arms. "If I'd known," Dean tried again, fighting his tears in vain, "I'd never have let you take those trials."

Inhaling shakily, Sam held on to his brother like a life line. "You think I'm dying?" he cackled and leant back to send Dean a lopsided grin. "I feel like shit, but it's not that bad," he whispered as his expression softened, "I can't leave you alone again, can I?"

"Damn right," Dean agreed grimly. But he could not be fooled. After all, Sam only noticed in that moment, and with a soft, powerless gasp, that it was no longer only his forearms that were glowing dangerously.

A fit of coughs and a painful spasm later, understanding dawned upon him at last. "Dean," he rasped, his expression one of sheer terror. Shrinking away in agony, his clutched his head tightly and went entirely still as he coughed out one final plea, "Wait for me."

His voice broke just as Dean's heart did.

"Of course I will," the older Winchester promised weakly and reached out to offer his brother what little comfort he could.

Suddenly, and far too soon, a deafening, high-pitched noise split the silence and shattered the windows. Sam's head flew up in a silent scream and... any life left in him burned its way out of his body with blinding intensity.

Having no choice but to watch helplessly, Dean felt that it should have been himself burning.

Finally, what little was left of Sam slumped to the ground, hurt and motionless. With much of his skin torched off, there was little to hope for.

And yet...

Dean's heart leapt up when he realized that in spite of all that Sam was still breathing.

Gathering his brother's limp body in his arms once again, Dean whispered, "Don't you worry, I'll get you back in shape in no time."

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled him closer.

"I don't think I can go on without you, Sammy."

- Week Zero: End -