Chained

When Sam woke up the bunker was eerily silent. Dean was always awake before him and by the time Sam stumbled out of bed there was usually coffee and a hot breakfast waiting for him. But this time there was no smell of bacon wafting down the halls and he couldn't hear Dean puttering around the kitchen. He couldn't hear the sound of the shower water running either. It was unsettling how the absence of these norms made this place feel a lot less like home.

It seemed unlikely, but Sam poked his head into Dean's bedroom on the off chance that he was still asleep. He wasn't there, but the bed had clearly been slept in. The bedcovers were a tangled mess, half kicked onto the floor. Sam's feeling of unease grew – Dean had never had his own bedroom before they came here and he was meticulous about keeping it clean. Why hadn't he made the bed?

Sam knew Dean would take the mickey out of him if he was just overreacting and Dean was downstairs tinkering with the Impala or something. When he determined that the Impala was still in the garage, though, and Dean was nowhere to be seen, his search became more frantic. He checked every room in the bunker for some sign of his brother. In his haste he almost missed the fact that the doors to the dungeon were open, but he noticed just in time and skidded to a stop.

"Dean!"

The sight that greeted him left him stunned.

Every inch of the dungeon was covered in salt and Devil's Traps. In the centre of it all was Dean, chained so tightly to the floor that he had to be cutting off circulation. He was huddled into a ball, arms wrapped around his legs, and he was trembling.

"Dean, what the hell-"

Dean's head snapped up. "Stay back!" His eyes were wild.

Sam held up placating hands. "Whoa, easy. It's just me."

"Sam," Dean stressed. "Stay back. Stay away from me."

"Why? What's going on? What is all this?"

Dean pulled up his sleeve. "It's getting stronger," he hissed.

The mark on his arm was red and inflamed.

Sam swallowed. He had feared this day would come, had tried to prepare himself for it, but he wasn't ready. It was all he could do to stay calm, to keep offering the reassurances that had begun to sound hollow months ago. "Okay. It's stronger. But not stronger than you. You can still fight it, Dean. You don't have to resort to – to this."

Dean had locked himself up like an animal and thrown the key as far from him as he could; it lay at Sam's feet. He wanted to pick it up and give Dean his freedom. He was also afraid to.

Dean's nails scraped through his hair. "I can hear them, Sammy. The voices. In my head. Telling me to kill you."

"Dean, they're not real."

"They are. I remember. Dad told me to kill you. You told me to kill you. Meg, Anna, Zachariah, Michael – they all said I had to kill you. I didn't listen to any of them. I fought against it tooth and nail. I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't.

"But then I almost did. I can't do that again. I can't kill you."

"You won't."

"Cain says I will."

"He's wrong."

"He's not. I can feel it Sammy. Itching under my skin, burning in my veins. The need. The thirst. For blood. I need it, and I want yours. I don't, but I do, I dream about it, about tearing you apart, bathing in your blood, and I can't, Sammy. I can't."

"Then don't. Fight it, Dean."

Dean made a tortured sound, deep in his throat. "I'm trying. But I don't trust myself."

Sam swiped the discarded key off the floor and approached his brother. "I trust you."

"Stay back!"

Sam took another step and Dean lunged for him, gnashing his teeth, howling as the chains caught him and yanked him back. He continued to fight, spitting and snarling, tearing the skin of his wrists open until blood spilled over the manacles.

Faced with a wild animal, Sam backed off. As the distance between them grew Dean fell limp, sagging to his hands and knees.

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at his brother. "I'm sorry," he rasped.

Sam tried to calm his racing heart. He refused to be scared of his brother. Dean wouldn't hurt him. "It's not your fault. And I swear to you, Dean, we will find a way to fix this."

Wearily, Dean shook his head. "There is no way. If there was we would have found it by now. I'm a goner, Sam, and we both know it."

"You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"Sam..." There was a deep sadness in Dean's eyes, mixed with resignation and an unspoken apology. "There is only two ways that this can go. If I fight it and somehow manage to keep the demon at bay, the Mark will kill me. I didn't mention it at the time because I thought I was heading out on a suicide mission anyway, but Crowley told me. A human was never meant to bear the Mark. My body can't handle it. If I don't give in, if I don't kill, I get sick. Really sick. The urges get stronger until I'm practically seeing red, and if I don't do something to satisfy the Mark it hurts. It was killing me before Metatron ever stabbed me with that blade, and it is killing me now."

"So we'll go on a hunt, kill a monster, buy some time."

"I've tried that, Sam. I've been trying for months. It doesn't cut it anymore. If I hold back any longer, I'm going to die. But if I stop fighting, if I Hulk out, you or Cas or some other hunter is going to have to gank me. Either way, I die."

"I don't accept that."

The ghost of a smile touched Dean's lips. "You're stubborn, just like your big brother. Must be a Winchester thing."

"Damn straight. And it goes hand in hand with doing whatever it takes to keep your stupid ass alive and kicking. We don't give up on family."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to this time, Sammy. I was a dead man as soon as I took that mark, and now payment has come due. It's my time."

"No. No! You're not allowed to just give up!"

Dean raised the chains that bound him. "This is me fighting, Sam. Believe me, it'd be a helluva lot easier to go on a killing spree and wreak havoc until some hunter takes me down than it is to sit here and force myself to die slow. But I'm fighting it because I promised I would, and I'll be damned if I give up now. When I die I'm going to die as Dean Winchester, hunter, human, stubborn bastard." A wry smile twisted his lips. "You could put that on my gravestone."

"Dean-"

"Sam, please. Let me have this. Let me die with dignity and rid the world of one last monster."

"You're not a monster."

"Let's keep it that way, huh?"

Before Sam could answer, Dean gave a horrible hacking cough. Blood splattered the ground.

"Dean!"

"It's fine," Dean gasped. "I've been coughing up blood for a few weeks now. Could be wor-"
He coughed, choked on it, gagged, then his back arched and convulsions gripped him.

Sam could only watch helplessly as his brother seized, his body writhing against the chains. As soon as the fit passed Sam was rushing forward to unlock him, consequences be damned.

"No, Sam! You can't stop this. You need to go."

"I can't leave you like this!"

"Don't watch me die, Sammy. You've had to do that enough times. You'll only be hurting yourself."

"There has to be a way to save you!"

Dean coughed again, hunching in an attempt to curb the pain even as he hacked up his guts. "Sam... Sammy. I don't wanna be saved. I just want it over, please God let it be over. I can't do this anymore."

"Dean, you can't lie to me. I know you don't want to die."

Dean offered a tired shrug. "Maybe not. But more than anything, I want you to live. When I was four I swore to do everything I could to protect you, and I swore it again every single day. It was my reason for living - looking after my pain in the ass little brother - and as far as I'm concerned it is a good enough reason to die. As long as you're okay, I'll die in peace."

"I'm not okay with watching you die a painful and horrible death."

"Then don't look. Or better yet-"

His words cut off as spasms wracked his body. He barely recovered, weak and shaky as he pushed himself to his knees. His face was lined with exhaustion and his eyes were clouded with pain.

"-put me out of my misery?" It was a broken plea and Dean might as well have stabbed a jagged piece of glass through Sam's heart.

"I can't kill you!" Sam exclaimed, horrified that his brother could even ask that of him.

Dean nodded, the ghost of a sad smile touching his lips. "Yeah, I know. Go on, then. I won't be lucid much longer, you better get outta here. I don't know how long it'll take, but give it three days to be safe and then burn my body til there is nothing left but ash. No take backs, no deals, no reversals this time. It's done. Let me rest."

Tears welled up in his eyes. "Dean-"

"I love you, too, Sam."

Dean exhaled a sigh, sounding almost peaceful. But then his eyes rolled back into his head, the convulsions took him and he started to scream.

"Dean! Dean! Dean, I l-"

Dean couldn't hear him.

"I love-"

The screams drowned him out. Blood bubbled from Dean's lips.

Pain ripping at his insides as he watched his brother die, again, Sam almost fled the room.

"SAAaamm!" Dean cried.

Sam broke. Tears streaming down his face, he fell to his knees and gathered his brother into his arms. Sam held him tightly as the Mark's poison tore him to bloody shreds, feeling his heart die alongside Dean.

It went on for an eternity.

When silence fell and Dean was still at last, Sam lay him down gently and used a sleeve to wipe away the blood from his face. He had done this before, more times than he cared to count.

But as the Mark faded from Dean's arm, leaving only smooth skin in its wake, Sam realized that Dean was gone for good. The Winchesters had learned their lesson at last; there would be no bringing him back this time.

Sam's head bowed over his brother and silent sobs shook his frame.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered.

ooOOoo

End