Summary: When it's time to collect the deal, some things have changed, and Sam has now become the target. Apparently someone's gone back on their end of the bargain.
A/N: This started out as a chapter story and a One Shot, but I decided to combine them. There will probably be 1 or 2 more chapters after this. I just wanted to get the first chapter up before the show did. Not a Deathfic. I just like a lot of suspense.
Chapter 1:
Thursday 12:05 a.m.
Sam could feel the cold encase his body. He wasn't sure how this happened, but he was almost glad. This was how it was supposed to be, but he couldn't stop staring at his brother's frozen face. He could see the scream hiding behind his broken eyes. A cold tear ran down Dean's face as he tried to move towards his little brother. It was as though everything had slowed down and Dean was watching it all in slow motion.
Sam's knees buckled as the pain ripped through his body. His back smashed to the ground as his hands flew to his stomach. He knew that his forehead must have taken a good beating since wine red burned his eyes. He might have cared if his stomach didn't feel like it was on fire.
Sam felt Dean's hot breath on his face as he started to press hard against Sam's wounds. "Oh God! Sam! No!" Sam's eyes roamed the room not being about to see Dean clearly anywhere. "Stay with me Sammy!" His hands pushed harder onto the wound, forcing Sam to stay conscious.
The scratching of the Hellhounds' claws continued to echo throughout the room as they tried to finish what they started. Dean grabbed his cell phone as one of the dogs howled at them. Quickly dialing Bobby's number, Dean watched as he realized how much he screwed up this time.
Wednesday 12:56 a.m.
"I'm so sorry Sammy." The words left his mouth as his eyes fell upon his little brother. He couldn't stay there and let his brother watch him die. If he was going to do this, he would do it away from Sam. He didn't want Sam to get hurt in the process.
His fingers grasped the doorknob, wondering what was waiting for him on the other side. He knew that Hell was going to suck, it was literally Hell, but his mind hadn't been able to grasp exactly what it would be like. He knew there would be a shit load of demons waiting to torture him for years, a demon even told him he would be ready and waiting.
As he stepped out of the room, Dean took one last look at his little brother, glad that there wouldn't be a chick flick moment. No mushy goodbyes. No tears. His eyes traced the lines of Sam's face, the way his hair stuck to his face as he slept, how his mouth was opened less than a millimeter, how he seemed so peaceful. He never wanted to forget that. This picture would be the thing imprinted in his mind as he endured Hell. Even if he became a demon, this one moment would always remind him what he really was. Human.
The word echoed through the room. Sam had wondered if he was human. If he was good. If he was worthy of life. It was obvious Sam was worthy of Dean's life, at least according to Dean. Dean adored his brother and to see him question who he was, who they all knew him to be, tore Dean apart. Dean knew that Sam would always be good, no matter what, but could the same be said of Dean? After everything that happened in Hell, could he really still be the same being?
These questions landed on the floor in front of him. Dean turned back to the door and exited, stepping on the unspoken questions. His heart ached at the thought of being alone when he died, but how could he do that to Sam? He knew where he was going and knew that it would be a much shorter trip in the Impala, but it was just a nice night. His feet pulled him towards his destination, leaving his baby far behind. Sam would need her more than he would.
Wednesday 7:32 a.m.
It was the damn birds again. Sam's eyes stitched themselves shut, trying to ignore the annoying sound coming from the birds. It seemed that whenever he wants to sleep they come and chirp in his ear, just to keep him from the thing he wanted. There was another chirp coming from only a few feet away. A mechanical chirp. Sam's arm shot out and grabbed the cell phone that started to move around the nightstand as it rang and vibrated.
"What?" Sam's voice was filled with sleep as he tried to remember what he should be doing.
"Sam? Where's Dean? I've been calling him for the past hour and he hasn't answered his phone." It was Bobby. That gruff and tired voice that only came from their friend: Bobby Singer. At his voice Sam's eyes shot out, realizing that this day was the end of the world. This day would be the thing that killed him. Today was Dean's last day.
Sam's eyes scanned Dean's bed, finding sheets thrown across the bed. He looked towards the bathroom and saw nothing. He couldn't have gone out already. Could he? It was strange for Dean to get up early. It was more than strange actually. It was damn near impossible.
"Sam? You still there?" Sam dropped the phone on his bed, not even noticing as it bounced towards the edge and ultimately falling off. The phone lay flat on the ground, almost like a dog playing dead. The only sign of life was Bobby's voice yelling from the other end of the line.
Sam ran to the bathroom, hoping that Dean was just standing there. He expected a giant smile on his face as he laughed at how ridiculous Sam was being. What he saw was completely different. The bathroom was empty. Void of all life.
He moved back into the room, about to grab his phone when something caught his eye. His brown eyes drew him closer to Dean's bed, trying to read the piece of paper that was left there. Sam's elongated fingers grabbed the paper and brought it closer to his face.
"Dear Sammy,
"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you watch me die. You shouldn't have to see that. I'm going back. Back to the beginning.
"I know you're gonna be pissed, but this is what I want. I really appreciate all you've tried to do for me, but it just wasn't enough. It wasn't your fault. It's what I want.
"I love you Sam. Keep on fighting.
"Dean."
Sam's fingers crumbled the paper, wondering how the hell he would be able to find his brother before midnight. His fingers ran through hair, completely ignoring the fact that he needed a shower. He noticed his phone, still lying on the floor. Bobby was still barking out orders at him.
"Bobby?"
"What the hell Sam!? Why didn't you answer me!?" There was silence for a few moments. Sam didn't want to speak the words written in Dean's letter aloud. It would just make everything worse. Bobby absorbed the silence, realizing what Dean had done. "Did he tell you where he was going?"
"To the beginning," Sam's fingers tightened around the piece of paper, wanting to destroy it, but also wanting to keep it, hoping to hold onto Dean through it. He couldn't help but want to kill his brother and hug him until he explodes in his arms. Some emotions are just tied together.
Sam grabbed his duffle bag along with Dean's. That lazy ass doesn't even take his own bag! Sam walked outside, the cell phone still clinging to his ear as Bobby rambled on about something Sam didn't care about. Sam started towards the road when something shiny and black caught his eye.
The Impala only lay about 30 meters away from where Sam stood, sunbathing as the sun continued its journey into the sky. "He left her."
"What?" Bobby's voice vibrated through the phone, actually catching Sam's attention this time. Sam walked towards the Impala in absolute awe as he answered Bobby.
"He left the Impala."
"What?! Why in the Hell would he leave his car!? How would he get to Mississippi without the Impala?"
"Who said anything about Mississippi?" Sam asked as he reached his hand into his pocket, pulling the keys out with it. Dean must have given them to me before he left. Which was when? How early had Dean gotten up to leave me? How long has he been planning to leave me? It couldn't have been a spur of the moment thing. Could it?
"Rosedale…Mississippi. The Crossroads. Where it all began." Sam wasn't listening. "Hello? SAM!"
"Ah, you don't have to yell. What?"
"Obviously I do since you haven't listen to a God damned thing I've said our entire conversation. I said Rosedale, Mississippi. The Crossroads. Where Dean sold his soul. That's where it all began."
"No it's not Bobby."
"What?! Where did it all begin then, Hot Shot?"
"Back home. In Kansas. He's heading to Lawrence."
12:48 p.m.
Dean was only a few miles away from Lawrence. But once he got there, he really had no idea where to go. He couldn't go back to his home; it was already someone else's. And he planned on going to Missouri's, and asking her to tell Sam a few things and to give him a few odds and ends, but not yet. It was too soon. She would tell Sam and then he would come running (driving) down there.
And Dean just couldn't let his brother watch him die. It nearly killed Dean, ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest and poking the insides to be correct, to watch Sam fall to his knees, dying. He could still feel the heat of Sam's body fading as he held onto him for dear life. The light that faded from his eyes, the blank stare that remained on his face. He couldn't bear to let his brother see that. No, Sam would not have to bare the same pain as Dean had.
He sat down on the curb, watching the cars drive by, letting the noise sooth him into tranquility. He started to think of the many things that he loved. Sam. His mother and father. Cassie. Cassie… She was the only person that ever got so far under his skin that he felt safe enough to tell her his family secret. She was the loophole in his rule to keep his real life a secret. Cassie was the only one that made him think of coming home to a warm meal and going to a day job.
His fingers traced the buttons of his cell phone. He could see the small letters that spelt out her name along with her phone number. Dean wanted to call her, wanted to tell her that she was the only woman he truly loved, the only woman that really made him feel whole. But how could he call Cassie, but not Sam? Sam was his brother, the guy that loved him for everything he was and everything he wanted to be, while Cassie threw him out when he opened up to her. Sam fought to get Dean to open up, while Cassie closed him out.
What kind of brother would he be? Did he really want to die with Sam angry at him? Did he really want to die not ever truly closing it with Cassie? His cell phone felt like it weighed a ton, causing it to fall out of his hands.
It fell on top of the concrete ground, bouncing slightly, waiting for Dean to pick it up and make sure it was okay. He didn't. Instead a little boy, about six years old, ran over, picking up the phone, and handed it to Dean.
The little boy's face lit up, the glow from his eyes almost matching the bright blonde hair that lay on his head. Speckled across his face were summer freckles, only appearing as the sun beat down upon his face. He was missing one of his front teeth, almost looking like a hockey player that lost a fight.
His smile faded as he noticed the sullen look on Dean's face. Maybe if he was older the boy would have tried to comfort Dean or at least ask if he was okay, but the little boy just turned and ran away. His responsibility was only towards the ball that lay across the street, on the boy's front lawn.
Dean remembered his childhood. He was never able to really live like that little boy. He was always taking care of Sam and his father, making sure they were safe and as happy as he could make them. The only difference he had between Sam was that he wouldn't have his childhood any other way.
1:02pm
11 hours left. Sam knew that he needed to hurry. He wasn't that far from Lawrence a few hours at the most if this damn traffic didn't move. Sam never realized how much traffic there could be during the day. He figured everyone was at work and off the roads. His eyes shifted between his cell phone and the road, waited for one of them to move.
He wanted Dean to call him, wanted to hear Dean's voice, wanted Dean to tell him this was all a dream. Sam couldn't deal with the fact that Dean was dying. He tried to prepare himself, as did Dean and Ruby, but in the end, the brain can't function without the heart. If Dean was dead, then so would Sam.
The cell phone buzzed against the leather-lined seats of the Impala. Sam's brown eyes were ablaze as he quickly answered the phone, waiting for Dean's voice to echo through it.
Instead Bobby's voice greeted his ear. "Sam, I'm gonna be there in a few hours, you there yet?"
"No," the depression and disappointment were clear in Sam's voice.
"Sam we'll find him."
"That's not gonna change anything."
"Don't talk like that."
"Well Bobby, it's over. There's no way to save him. He's as good as dead." Sam couldn't believe the harsh words coming out of his mouth. Did he really believe that? Or was he just speaking the truth? "I'm sorry Bobby."
"Boy, if you give up on Dean, then you'll—"
"Bobby, I know. I'll call you when I find him. Bye."
"Bye Sam."
2:49 p.m.
Before Dean's knuckle even hit the door he could feel a swift smack coming. He knew he was going to get it, but he knew he had to do this. He knocked, not really wanting to do this, instead of the ringing the doorbell, which would attract Missouri's attention quicker than knocking.
But all the same, there she stood. An angry glare already on her face as her eyes set upon him. He gave a sad smile, trying to lighten the mood, but he could almost feel her harsh unspoken words ripping him apart. "Hey Missouri."
"Dean Winchester." She moved away from the door, allowing him to enter. Dean stepped inside, making sure not to track any dirt or mud into the house as he did. He could see the annoyance on her face as she tried to hold back everything. She wanted to scold him for leaving Sam, for selling his soul, for being so damn self-destructive.
Dean sat down on the same couch he had sat in more than 2 years ago. He felt like he and Sam were back there, trying to figure out what was going on in their old house. He wanted to go back there. Back to simpler times.
"Dean, what are you doing here?"
His head popped up at her, not truly expecting that question. Dean knew that Missouri already knew what had happened, but he answered the question anyway. "I need you to do something for me. For Sam."
"What?"
"I need you to give him some things." He picked up the bag that he had placed on the floor subconsciously. His fingers led the zipper towards the other end of the bag, opening it up.
"Why are you doing this? Why did you run away from Sam?" Her voice was calm and quiet, the voice you would use to console someone who just lost their love. The voice she would be using for Sam when he got there, Dean knew it would be.
"You know why."
"No I don't."
"He doesn't need to see this. It'll just be too much."
"Then why did you make the deal to begin with?"
"Because I couldn't live without him!" his voice was harsh, tired of everyone asking him that question. Tired of trying to get himself to stop asking the question. I did the right thing.
"And what do you expect him to do?" Dean's head popped up, thoughts of Sam disrupted by her voice. Tears were threatening to escape, but he took in a deep breath, making sure they were secure. He hadn't expected Missouri to be so…calm. He thought she would be chewing him out, but really, all she wanted was to understand. "Do you expect him to just keep on living? To go back to college? To live with the knowledge that his brother, his hero is dead because of him? He has no family, no one to turn to!"
"Neither did I!" Dean didn't mean to be so rude, but he knew what he was doing was extremely selfish, and he truly didn't care anymore. "Sam was the only thing keeping me here after Dad died, the only thing keeping me sane, keeping me alive. And then he leaves. Died in my arms. How many times do I have to be abandoned before I have the right to be selfish?"
He paused, letting out a breath, still trying to hold back his tears. "Your father wouldn't—"
"My father!?" Dean stood up, throwing his arms into the air and taking an aggressive step towards Missouri. "The man that sold his soul for me? How is he any better?!"
Missouri's mouth opened to speak, but closed it quickly. She didn't know what to say. John truly wasn't any better, leaving such a burden on his son's shoulders and almost destroying Dean, body and soul.
"I had to live with the fact that he was dead because of me! Like father, like son." Dean let out another breath, this time calming himself down. He didn't like yelling at Missouri. He didn't like that he was making excuses and blaming his father. He hated feeling like he deserved to spend eternity in Hell.
"Then why?" Missouri's voice was barely a whisper, trying to sooth him.
"Why what?" His voice was still filled with anger.
"If you know the pain. If you know what it's like to have someone die for you. Why would you knowingly place that pain upon your brother?"
"Because he's my brother. I love him. I can't live without him." He paused for a moment, looking at the coffee table, but not truly seeing it. "When he went to college, those were the 4 most miserable years of my life. I am being selfish." Revelation and hatred spread across his face, but he was too fast for Missouri. He ran past her and out the door, finally allowing the tears to stream down his face, staining the sidewalk leading away from Missouri's house.
Missouri stood at her door, watching as Dean continued to run down the street, hiding his face from the world.
"Bobby, I'm almost—"
"Samuel Winchester, how could you mistake me for Bobby Singer?"
"Missouri?"
"Yes, boy. Now when are you getting here?"
"Oh, Missouri." He paused, did she know about Dean? How was he going to explain all this to her? "Uh, something has—"
"Yes I know. Your brother has already been here to see me."
He went to Missouri's? Why? Why was she so much better than him?
"He's staying at the same motel you stayed at 2 years ago. He doesn't know that I told you that."
"Thanks Missouri."
"You're welcome." She paused a moment. "Oh, and Sam?"
"Yea?"
"Knock some damn sense into that brother of yours for me. Okay?"
Sam chuckled softly, half-heartedly. "Will do." And with that, the phone call was terminated.
3:58p.m.
She could see how much it tore him up inside to watch his brother wither away. She could taste the bitter feelings and torment that ran through his veins as they waited for the end. The smell of fear from the elder brother made her feel warm. She couldn't get enough of it. It was almost as though she was at her highest peek of happiness.
She noticed the cold eyes in both brothers as they waited, but she knew something they didn't. In the end, Dean wasn't the true target. Sam was always the one. Always the one that actually mattered. Dean was just an annoying thorn in everyone's side, but he was tolerated. Sam, on the other hand, was always important. Just in this case, he was so important he needed to be killed, again.
She had guaranteed Dean 1 year in exchange for Sam to remain living. She hadn't cared; Jake looked to be the actual threat. When Sam killed him, she hoped that that was the end of it. No more "Boy King". The words ran off her mouth like vomit.
It seemed like Sam was not easily killed, but there was one thing that was on her side: the element of surprise. They knew she was sending the Hellhounds. They just didn't know that they were going after the younger brother.
A smile crept across her face as she continued to wait until midnight.
A/N: I'm not completely sure I got the brothers down. I really didn't know what Dean would leave in his letter to Sam, so if you guys have any suggestions I'm open to changing it. Thanks!