Summary: AU. The time of the Apocalypse has arrived and Sam and Dean find themselves on opposite sides of the board.

The Last Days

Dean stood upon the barren precipice, gazing out across the blackened valley below him, taking in the high-rises and city blocks reduced to ruins, the innumerable cars overturned, one on the top of the other, the glossy paint burned away. Once flowing trees now stood as blackened, grotesque skeletons, lining the sides of a torn and ravaged road, while anything left standing cast great shadows across the land like a stain, threatening to swallow everything in its path.

This had been Los Angeles.

It had fallen, blown away, along with the rest of the world, with the coming of the Apocalypse and the rising of Lucifer

Gone.

Dead.

He was all that remained.

He could swear he could still hear the screams, the anguished cries of fear and pain from billions of people as their flesh had been stripped away, burning into nothingness.

Why was it that he should live while the rest of humanity was wiped from existence?

Because he was an angel. That's why.

He flexed the white feathery appendages that sprouted from between his shoulder blades, his so-called gift from a God he'd never met. When he'd agreed to submit to God's will, he hadn't expected this…and it was damn inconvenient. He was immortal. A friggin' angel. Doomed to live forever, never changing, never aging, unless someone cared to stick him with Lucifer's sword.

Which he wished they would. He couldn't fulfill 'God's will.' Not this.

He couldn't kill Sam.

Sam, Sammy, his brother, his only family…

The Antichrist.

No, he couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. It was too much. Despite what his younger sibling had become, what atrocities he'd committed, Dean couldn't bear the thought of lifting a hand to hurt him, let alone kill him.

But he'd promised his dad, he'd promised Sammy…

"If I ever become something I'm not, you have to kill me. Promise me, Dean…"

His heart was conflicted.

He should've asked when they'd made him an angel to make him dick-ish like the rest of the lot, so that he wouldn't be having this problem.

Then again, when had things ever gone the way he'd wanted them?

You promised him…

This was his mission, and he had to complete it.

There was no longer Sammy, or even Sam, but Samael, the son of Lucifer. Not his brother anymore, but a monster.

He had a job to do.

With a great flurry of his wings, he launched himself into the dark expanse.

--

Yeah, short, I know. I'm debating whether to add another chapter or not. Anyone interested? Yes, no?