A/N: OK, so I lied. Enjoy. I hope. Obviously, a tag of "Fresh Blood."

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. I'm still bummed.

Passing of the Torch

"Well, it's time. You should know how to fix it. You're gonna need to know these things in the future. And, besides, that's my job, right? Show my little brother the ropes?"

Sam hesitated, but he bent down into the car's hood and started unscrewing the valve cover. His tried to focus on the task that Dean entrusted to him, but his mind kept wandering.

He was amazed how fast his mind could work.

He couldn't believe Dean just turned let him work on the engine.

"Put your shoulder into it."

Sam unscrewed the bolts faster. He felt a weird sense of melancholy and joy. He was happy that Dean trusted him enough to work on the car with simple directions.

However, the sense of melancholy hit with the realization of why.

"Dean, don't let go!" 8-year-old Sammy gripped the bicycle handles so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"I'll be right here with you."

Sammy felt a gentle push against his back, and the bicycle started moving down the sidewalk. He fought to pump the pedals in rhythm that they were going.

"Sammy, keep your feet on the pedals." Dean's voice came from behind him.

OK, I think I'm getting the hang of it. Sammy glanced down at his feet and figured out the rhythm of the pumping.

"Very good! You're doing it!" Sammy could hear the grin in Dean's voice. It made him feel so good. He was doing something that pleased his big brother.

"Sammy, just keep pumping, OK? I'm gonna let go of the seat, but I'll be right here beside you."

"No! Please don't let go! Please, Dean?" Sammy begged Dean.

Dean suddenly appeared in Sammy's peripheral vision, jogging beside the bike. At that moment, Sammy realized that Dean had let go, and he was propelling the bicycle himself.

"You're doing it, Sammy! You're doing it!" Dean's voice was filled with laughter and pride.

"Don't let go of me!" 6-year-old Sammy begged his older brother, who was holding onto Sammy, making sure he didn't go under the chlorinated water.

"I won't. I'll be right here beside you, all the way." Dean was tall enough to touch the pool's floor. He made sure Sammy's arm floaties were on properly. "But, soon, you're gonna hafta learn to swim."

"I don't wanna!"

"I know. But I'll be right here, right beside you all the time, Sammy." He moved his hands under Sam's chest. "OK, lay down on my arms."

Sammy looked up at Dean, but he relaxed his body onto Dean's arms. He could feel the water against his chin.

"If you get into trouble, remember how to tread water?"

Sammy looked up at Dean, with panic-stricken eyes. "You're planning on letting go?"

"No. But, remember last week treading water? You were good at it."

"Just don't leave me!"

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere." He adjusted his arms under Sam's weight to stabilize him more. "Kick your legs and move your arms the way we practiced, alright?"

Sammy thought briefly, but he could remember what Dean showed him. He slowly moved his arms. "Like this?"

"Very good! Just like that!" Dean slowly moved him through the water, feeling the splashes of Sammy's kicks wash over him.

"Just don't let go of me!" Sammy repeated.

"I'll be right here. Always. I won't let anything happen to you, Sammy."

After several minutes of hearing Dean whisper instructions, Sammy thought he was getting the hang of this swimming thing.

"You're doing it, Sammy! Pretty soon, you'll be doing this by yourself!"

Sammy stopped kicking and moving his arms and floated on Dean's arms. He knew he could swim, because Dean said he could. But, it scared him.

"Just don't let go."

18-year old Sam slammed the door of the Impala and stomped up to the entrance of the bus station. The rain poured around him as he raced to get inside.

"Sam! C'mon! You need to calm down. Dad didn't mean that!" Dean called from inside the car.

"Yes, he did, Dean!" Sam snarled to himself. He couldn't believe Dean could be such an idiot. Why does he always take Dad's side in everything? Doesn't he have a mind of his own?

He ran a hand through his damp hair as he purchased his ticket. He felt in his pocket for his acceptance letter.

He stepped back and ran into Dean. Rain water dripped from Dean's short hair to his jacket. "Look, let's talk about this. You just dumped the fact that you were going to college now on Dad. He flipped out. That's all."

"Dean, this is your life, alright? This isn't mine. It'll never be mine." He couldn't believe Dean could be so obtuse.

Dean reached out and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "OK, just call us if anything happens, alright?"

Sam angrily pushed Dean's hand off his shoulder. "Let me go! I'm gonna have to run my own life. I don't need your help! I've never needed your help!"

He turned and walked away from Dean. Behind him, he thought he heard Dean softly say, "I'll always be here, Sammy. I'm not letting go."

Sam looked over at Dean, who sat on the cooler. A wave of anger swept over him. Ever since he found out about Dean's stupid, suicidal deal, he kept having these waves of anger.

Dean had lied. He had let go.

Sam took a deep breath, and Dean looked up at him. "You're doing great, Sammy."

Sam's sudden feeling of anger passed as quickly as it had come. This was Dean. In his entire life, Dean was his one constant. His one stability.

And now Dean was leaving him. He was passing on the Impala. Sam figured that the car would go to him if anything happened to Dean. But, the truth was that he didn't want to accept the possibility that Dean was going to Hell any more than Dean did, judging by his terror.

He could research until he was blind, and he would do just that, but he knew time was running out for Dean. He just didn't know how to stop the clock.

He hoped that he got through to Dean.

"Don't let go," he whispered to Dean's back, fearing that, in spite of everything, Dean was already past the point of no return.

Dean took a swig of his beer.

Sam looked down at the engine. He hoped that he had fixed the car at least. Maybe I know how to fix something.

Fin.