Okay, guys, fasten your seatbelts. I'd been thinking, we've got angels, demons, Lucifer, the Anti-Christ…there's someone missing.

One more time: geminigrl11, awesome beta.

00000

Chapter 3

It seemed that each time Castiel killed a demon, two more took its place. The two dozen or so in the room were being reinforced by others who were slipping past the angelic army outside. He and Gabriel were no closer to Lucifer, Michael or Sam than they had been when they arrived.

Finally, Gabriel raised his hands. "Time to change the channel fellas," he quipped, snapping his fingers. Instantly, every demon within thirty feet vanished, transported to some other reality that the mischievous archangel must have found amusing. Castiel blinked, but shook the surprise off. They had a clear shot at the altar, now, and he moved in that direction. If they could get to Sam before more demons entered---

The sound of Sam's neck snapping brought the entire room to a momentary halt.

Castiel and Gabriel stopped in their tracks and stared in shock. A glance to his left, and Castiel saw Michael---Dean---staring in horror. Even Meg and the demons were startled---they'd been expecting Lucifer to take Sam as a host.

Even from where he stood, Castiel could tell that the life in his friend's body had been blasted out by Lucifer's enraged attack. Restoring human life normally would have been relatively easy for an angel, so long as the soul was intact. Sam's was…gone. Utterly destroyed. Lucifer's power had left only a burned out shell of flesh.

Zachariah, still standing near the altar, was the first among the shocked crowd to speak. He sounded appalled. "What--- What have you done? He was your vessel…."

Cas watched, stunned, as Lucifer spun on the Machiavellian angel, grabbing him by the throat. "Do you think I give a damn about your plan, old man? Did you honestly think I would play along, let Michael kill me and give you the Paradise you wanted?"

With that, Lucifer punched through Zachariah's chest with his free hand, instantly killing the human vessel. A moment later, blinding white light exploded outward, obliterating four demons that got too close. Meg barely leapt behind the altar in time to avoid the blast.

Zachariah was dead.

Castiel felt a very human disappointment. He'd wanted to dole out the manipulative traitor's punishment himself. He immediately squashed the selfish emotion. I am becoming too human.

Lucifer let the body slide off his fist, then casually picked up the fallen angel's sword and wiped the gore from his hand on his jeans. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure, and nodded to the demons. "Kill them all."

The demons, apparently not wanting to argue, resumed their battle with Michael. Castiel looked over, not sure what to do now. His friend was dead. His quarry was dead, and Dean---

Even possessed by Michael, the look on Dean's face was devastated. Cas shared a look with Gabriel, who appeared at a loss. He looked back at Lucifer, who stood smugly watching his troops fight and die for him, occasionally glancing back at Sam with obvious disgust. Cas turned back to Gabriel, adjusting his grip on his sword.

"For Sam."

The archangel stood a little straighter and nodded. They charged.

00000

Sam was…gone. Dean saw his brother go down, but even more, sensed what Michael saw. Lucifer had eradicated Sam, leaving only a cooling corpse. He wouldn't even be able to use the vessel. For a few long moments, Dean was in shock. This can't be happening….

Dean slumped, retreating in on himself, even as Michael resumed his battle with Lucifer's minions. The archangel still spared a fraction of his attention to his vessel.

"Dean…forgive me. I--- I didn't want this."

"Dean?"

He didn't bother answering. Dean caught glimpses of Sam's broken body, draped over the altar where he'd landed, as the archangel riding him fought his attackers, pushing inexorably toward where Lucifer stood, and all he could think was that he had failed. His big plan, what seemed like his last chance to get Sammy out of harm's way before the end, all gone. Wasted.

Once, Dean would have felt the urge for vengeance, would have pondered hunting down those lying, treacherous angels---all of them---for what they had done. What they had taken from him, from his family. The instinct to protect Sam used to burn hot, like a sun inside him.

Now, he just felt a black hole, as burned out as Sam's empty, shattered body. Just like Famine said….

Dean also sensed what Michael knew. There would be no resurrection this time. The damage was too great. The angels couldn't help his brother, even if they wanted to, and Dean figured they probably didn't anyway.

He could still feel his body moving, taking and delivering punishment. He could hear Michael whispering to him, concerned. Dean tuned it all out and disengaged himself as much as he could. He had nothing left.

Maybe Michael---the lying bastard---would lose, or maybe he could ask the archangel to leave him a comatose shell when he won. Either way, it could all finally be over.

00000

More demons were pouring in all the time. Castiel and Gabriel managed to get halfway to Lucifer, but demons were coming faster than he could kill them or Gabriel could will them away. The archangel had given up being creative, and simply dumped them en masse back into Perdition.

They kept coming.

00000

Michael had had enough. Zachariah had betrayed him, Lucifer mocked him, and Dean was so withdrawn he wasn't sure the human could still hear him.

When he'd first confronted Dean, Michael hadn't been sure why the stubborn, mouthy human was so concerned with Sam Winchester. The younger brother had turned on him, let himself be manipulated and tainted by a lowly demon, tempted by power and blinded by vengeance. Sam wasn't worthy of Dean's loyalty.

Yet that loyalty was there. He didn't understand it, until the moment Lucifer struck Sam down. The explosion of emotion in Dean's mind…was staggering. It had taken that for Michael to remember.

He'd felt that once. When he'd been ordered to cast his rebellious, ambitious younger brother into the Pit all those eons ago. He'd obeyed, even while doubting his Father's wisdom. Surely there was another way, he'd thought. The confrontation with Lucifer had proved to him otherwise. There could be no forgiveness, no absolution.

Which was why Dean's stance confused him so much. Surely these mere mortals would understand that. If they were as perceptive and worthy as his Father had said, surely they would agree. Betrayal shouldn't be forgiven. It only led to chaos and pain.

Yet Dean grieved so much for Sam now that it was like a vacuum inside him. Michael couldn't change what had happened, probably couldn't regain Dean's trust, but he could end this. He could fulfill the plan, bring Paradise.

Dean would be at peace then.

Michael concentrated his energy, then released it in a mighty blast from his hands. The demons that weren't incinerated were blown aside. He had a straight shot at Lucifer. A flap of his wings and he was there, at the altar, face to face with his fallen brother, crossing swords again at last.

"You won't win, brother. My legions outnumber yours." Lucifer taunted.

Their swords clashed with force that shattered the air around them. Michael didn't reply to the barb, pressing home his attack until Lucifer was slammed back against the altar, near Sam's body. Michael raised his sword, preparing for the final blow, and let himself feel a surge of pride at the ease of his victory.

At that moment, Meg appeared from behind the altar, brandishing her own blade, and lunged. Michael stepped back, barely dodging the strike, and replied by swinging his left fist out. He channeled some of his energy through the motion, and hit Meg hard enough that the demon inside was killed instantly.

Fortunately, the human host was already long dead, so his attack did no harm to her.

Unfortunately, Lucifer took advantage of Meg's distraction and catapulted himself off the altar. Michael couldn't turn back in time, and Lucifer's sword plunged deep into Dean's gut, skewering human and angel alike. Pain struck like a wave, and Michael staggered back. Lucifer twisted the sword, finishing it.

00000

Castiel was surrounded. Fighting exhaustion, he kept going. He'd been killing most of the demonic horde, but had switched to simply banishing them to conserve energy. Gabriel did the same.

He couldn't shake the feeling that they were losing. Sam was gone. The angels outside seemed to be losing ground and letting more demons through. Dean had no doubt given up---the bond between the boys was too strong. One couldn't function without the other. What had allowed Lilith and Zachariah to get what they wanted would also hamper Michael from achieving victory. Any other time, Castiel would marvel at the irony.

A cry of pain broke through Castiel's perception. He sensed the death throws of the source before he had time to look and see Michael stumbling backward, Lucifer driving his sword home through Dean's body.

"No," Gabriel gasped. "Impossible...."

Castiel shared his shock, but that didn't change the fact that Michael, prophesized to slay the Beast...had just been slain by the Beast. Hopelessness filled him. Lucifer was going to be victorious after all. All their efforts, all the fighting, all the loss, had been for nothing.

Movement in his peripheral vision drew his eyes back toward the altar, just as he felt a kaleidoscope of emotion from Gabriel, from shock to elation. A crack of thunder sounded, seeming to rend the very air around them. The sound grew and the church began to tear itself apart around them.

Gabriel stepped forward, away from Castiel, and raised his voice. "Behold!"

A hum drew his attention downward. Cas reached into the pocket of his trench coat, and pulled out Dean's amulet.

It was glowing.

00000

Dean felt the sword pierce his stomach. He'd been impaled a few times in Hell, so he knew what it felt like…he didn't like the sensation any better now. Michael seemed to agree. They fell to the floor together, Lucifer's weapon still lodged near Dean's spine.

Michael was mortally wounded, unable to disentangle his being from Dean's. They lay there, helpless, as Lucifer sauntered forward and kneeled beside them.

"You shouldn't have come here, brother. Just ask Dean. I told him. I win."

Michael couldn't reply. Dean was still partially blinded by the archangel's---fading---brilliance, but he had regained control of his eyes as Michael weakened. He moved them to look up at Lucifer, who was staring back with an expression approaching sympathy.

"Well, Dean, I guess we didn't need to wait five years after all. For what it's worth, it wasn't personal. This is just how it had to be."

Thunder rolled outside, so loud it rattled the church rafters. The rumbling grew in intensity, until dust was falling from the old beams, and the stained glass in the windows cracked.

Dean couldn't move anything but his eyes, but had a fairly good view from where he lay. Lucifer stood, looking around the room in confusion. Castiel and Gabriel had stopped fighting and stood, appearing as puzzled as Lucifer. He felt Michael's curiosity from inside him, even as the archangel's life force ebbed. Something strange was happening.

With a thunderous roar, a mighty wind blasted into the room, shattering windows. Wood and metal screamed in protest as the church's roof lifted off the walls and segments exploded outward in four directions. Distantly, Dean could hear unearthly screams from the embattled demon army outside.

The wall behind the altar split, ceiling to floor, and the altar broke into halves, dropping Sam's body unceremoniously to the floor. Dean felt remorse at that; Sam couldn't even have peace in death.

Cold was setting in as he lay there. Dean knew wounds to the gut were slow and painful ways to go. He was bleeding out around the angelic sword. He could see Michael's radiance dimming. As soon as the archangel went, Dean reasoned, his end would come rapidly. He couldn't say he was unhappy about that. At least he wouldn't live to see the horrors that were coming to the world. At least he wouldn't have to live through it without his brother.

Lucifer looked to his minions, baffled. They stared back at him. None of them knew what was happening as the building seemed to rip apart around them. Behind the Devil, Dean caught movement in his peripheral vision. His slowing heart rate sped up when his eyes finally focused.

Sammy?

Sam was rising slowly to his feet, haltingly, as if he was unused to moving around. It wasn't possible, though. Sam was gone. Lucifer had murdered him. Dean frowned. Were hallucinations setting in already?

Gabriel's voice boomed, shaking the room and knocking many of the demonic horde off their feet. The devious trickster appeared ecstatic. "Behold! The son of Mary has returned!"

Dean's frown deepened. What does Mom have to do with this?

His attention moved back to Sam, who was on his feet and moving toward Lucifer.

The Devil turned, and lurched back, almost tripping over Dean's legs. "NO! You're dead!"

Half a dozen demons stepped toward Sam. He looked at them…and they vanished. Dean would have gasped had his lungs been capable of anything more than their shallow panting. Sam had never shown that kind of power before.

Lucifer seemed panicked. He turned and yanked the sword from Dean's stomach. Dean and Michael cried out together, back arching off the floor. The blood flowed faster now. As the weapon swung around toward Sam, Dean watched as his brother raised his hand…and the sword turned to dust.

The Devil frantically gathered his energies, bringing his hands together. Dean had some idea what these angels were truly capable of, but this looked like some special attack move from Mortal Kombat. Sort of what Michael had been doing. He shivered at the thought of all that power being directed at someone.

Or maybe the shivering was from the blood loss, Dean was sure anymore. The world had gone mad around him.

Sam beat Lucifer to it, raising his own hands and pushing them forward. The Devil screamed as he was knocked backwards off his feet. Dean vaguely registered that the wall behind him had also been blown away.

Michael's control had slipped enough for Dean to shift his neck muscles. He rolled his head around in time to watch Lucifer…get his butt kicked. Go Sam. Dean didn't understand how Sam had come back, but maybe one of his freakish abilities was working for them for a change.

A smaller voice in his mind prayed that Sam was still human.

Whatever Dean's misgivings, it didn't change what he was witnessing. Lucifer landed in the rubble left where the wall had blown out. He struggled to rise, but Sam was already standing over him. He spoke quietly to the fallen angel…Dean blinked when his blood-starved brain processed the words.

"I'm sorry, my child."

"No, please!" Lucifer cried, but it was too late. Sam directed another blast at him, and Lucifer simply exploded. There was no other word for it in Dean's vocabulary. It was like a supernova from a movie. A bluish-white energy wave erupted from Lucifer, expanding out and blasting across the landscape. Angels were thrown to the ground, and demons were obliterated when it struck.

Lucifer's army died with him. The shockwave traveled all the way to the horizon. Through the flattened church's walls, Dean saw nothing but scorched dirt and dying foliage.

Dean was astonished. Confused, but astonished. What had just happened? What had Sam done?

The brother in question stood, surveyed the blackened landscape, and turned back toward Dean. Tears glistened on his face. Sam walked back to where Dean lay, and stepped around him. He spared a moment to glance toward Gabriel and Castiel, nodding to them.

Sam knelt as Dean strained to roll his head back and look up at him. It was Sam, but…the eyes were different. Not black like a demon's or dilated like when he was high on demon blood, just…different. Bigger, maybe. Clearer. Luminous. Dean felt like he was falling toward them, even though he knew his body wasn't going anywhere.

With a sigh, Sam reached down and lay his hand on Dean's stomach. Instantly, the cold was gone, replaced by a warmth so encompassing that Dean wanted to curl up and sleep. Sam looked up and surveyed the area around them, then spoke softly.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Michael."

The archangel stirred inside Dean, his brilliance slowly returning. "Father? Is that you?"

Dean paused. Father? But--- Gabriel's words clicked in his mind. Son of Mary. Had Michael not been back in control, Dean's eyes would have widened. Jesus Ch--- Er, Holy CRAP…. Michael sounded just as amazed.

"We thought you had left us. We thought you were dead."

Sam frowned…that patient frown he often leveled at Dean. "I am. You, of all my children, should have understood."

That didn't make sense to Dean, but it definitely struck a nerve with Michael. The archangel was agitated, yet fearful at the same time. "Father…we were following your plan. We were trying to bring Paradise to this world. We were only trying to make these two humans follow their destiny."

Sam's frown deepened. "Free will, Michael. Their choice, not yours."

"But, Father---"

"Go home, Michael." Sam sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was frustrated. "Pray for enlightenment."

Just like that, the archangel was gone, and Dean was back in control of his meatsuit. Not that it mattered; he couldn't move, and reeled from Michael's sudden absence. Sam smiled faintly at him, and extended his hand.

"Will you walk with me, brother?"

Dean should have balked and scuttled away---wondered why he wasn't doing just that---but instead found himself reaching up to take the offered hand. Sam lifted him effortlessly.

00000

The sand was hot under his feet. Dean's gaze shot down; he saw his bare feet sinking into the beach sand. He had been lying on his back in a devastated church an eye blink before.

He was next to Sam---God? Jesus? Dean wasn't sure. They were walking on a beach, the sun was bright in the sky, and waves crashed loudly off to his left.

"Do you know where we are?"

Dean blinked. The beach, d'uh, was his first, reflexive answer. But, then he remembered that he wasn't walking next to Sam, not really. "Uh, well...."

He looked at his companion, who was staring off to the right. Dean followed his gaze, finding two children building a sand castle. The older one said something, and the younger broke out laughing.

It took a few seconds longer than it should have for him to realize that he was staring at himself. A lifetime ago. "Uh...Tampa. This was...god, twenty years ago?"

"Nineteen," Sam replied quietly.

This was the summer of 1991. Their dad had worked a job in Tampa, and before they moved on, he took them to a quiet, barely populated stretch of beach. They played all day. The tide had wiped out Sam's first small sand castle, so Dean had helped him build a massive replacement. The new castle stood at least three feet tall.

They'd had so much fun that day. Dean's smile faded. Five months after this trip, Sam would get hold of John's journal, and their dad would miss Christmas after promising Sam he wouldn't. Nothing would the same after that. Their next trip to a beach was marred by a broken bone, and a fast getaway. This was the last summer that Sam had been innocent. Happy.

Dean looked back. "Who are you, really? I mean, you look like Sam, but...." He already knew, but needed to hear it said.

"Would you prefer a pillar of fire? An old man? Alanis Morisette?"

"I---" Dean had to stare for a moment. "I didn't expect you to have a sense of humor."

"I have many faces, Dean," he said, staring at the children playing in the sand. "Your brother was kind enough to let me borrow his."

The reminder of what had happened was like being doused in ice water. Sam was dead. This wasn't Sam. "My brother...can you---? I mean, is he---?"

"He has a choice to make, first. His destiny is his own, as it always has been. You know, the last time I was on a beach like this in human form was...ages ago."

Dean shook his head, the pent-up emotion of the past year spilling over. "Why? Why are we here? Why did you let all this happen?"

The expression shifted, turning sad. "I could have destroyed him in an instant, the moment he turned against me. But, I couldn't. He was my most beautiful creation. I thought exile would work, but I was wrong."

"But, is it over?" Dean asked. "The Apocalypse, the big showdown. It's done. We won, right?"

"Aborted, I suppose is the best word for it. It wasn't your choice to open that first Seal, nor was it Sam's to open the last. Zachariah and his supporters were wrong to let Azazel and Lilith get so far. I…hope you will come to forgive them for what they've done."

"What they've done?" Dean exclaimed, outraged. "They let demons murder my family! They pushed Sam into doing something he---his life was ruined!"

"You have every right to be angry."

"You're damned right I do!" Dean turned away, watching his younger self add another turret to the growing castle. Sam was carving long, narrow windows into the walls…to 'make it more accurate.' The geek.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that he was screaming at a being that could wipe him out of existence with a word. Not really the best plan…. But, then, did it matter anymore?

"You don't need to fear me, Dean. You aren't the first to be angry with me. I've got a thick skin."

As he watched the younger version of Sam play, Dean was hit again with the magnitude of what he'd lost. Dean was healed, it seemed, but Sam was gone. He'd felt it when Michael was inside him. Lucifer had sucked the life right out of his brother. "What am I supposed to do now? You say the war's over. But Sammy's dead. Bobby's crippled. What's left?"

He turned back, looking at---Jesus, he could finally say it---wearing his sibling's face. And noting how crazy that was. His brother's eyes met his, and Dean felt that falling sensation again.

"Free will, Dean. What's left is up to you. If I told you…." He took a deep breath, then nodded toward the Winchester boys in the distance. "You can stay here as long as you wish. When you're ready, walk back the way we have come. The future will be there for you."

As he moved away, Dean called out. "What about Sam?"

"We'll see."

"Hey, wait!" Dean cried. When the other turned to him, he splayed his hands in exasperation. "Please---tell me---where were you during all this?"

He got a smile in return. "I was right here. I've always been here, Dean." The man nodded, silently prompting Dean to look back the way they'd come. He saw only one set of footprints in the sand, from Sam's giant club feet, not Dean's. It didn't appear that Dean had walked down the beach at all.

Dean couldn't help the bemused chuckle that slipped out. "Oh, come on, that's such a cliché!" When he turned back, he was alone.

He looked back at the past. Sammy and Dean were wrestling playfully, sand and plastic tools flying in every direction. Beyond them, near the road, he noticed someone else. Their dad was standing by the Impala. Dean frowned. He didn't remember his father being there that day; he'd been reading in the car when he and Sammy had headed out. But, sure enough, John was standing there, watching over his children. It looked like he'd been there the whole time.

After only a few minutes, Dean couldn't bear it anymore. He turned and walked down the beach, the way he'd come. It felt like a boulder rested on his chest. He was alone.

A mile down the beach, he reached civilization. A pier, a seaside shack, and the Impala---shinier than she'd been in months---waited for him. Dean ran a hand over her fender. "At least you haven't given up on me, babe."

He dropped into the driver's seat and pushed the key into the ignition more out of instinct than anything else. Then he sat and stared out the windshield, feeling for the first time that he truly had nowhere left to go.

00000

One second Sam was cold and sinking into the dark, the next he was standing on a road. It wasn't a particularly inviting road. The hard-packed dirt was cold beneath his feet, and fog hung low along the ground, obscuring the shrubbery running along the roadside. It was hard to see more than a few yards into the dark woods around him.

Sam paused and turned his attention back to his bare feet, then his hands. The bones had been broken a moment before. He hadn't been able to stand on his own after two days with Meg and her goons. Everything was healed now. He could see clearly, the bloody trails along his chest and stomach from where they'd taken razor blades to him, were gone.

"Where am I?" He muttered quietly.

"The better question is, where will you go?" A voice said from behind him. Sam spun to find Dean there, arms crossed, resting against one of the craggy, dead tree trunks.

"Dean?"

His brother smiled and shrugged. "I have many faces. Will you walk with me, brother?"

He hesitated. It was Dean's face and voice, but…the eyes were different. Bigger, brighter, maybe. Luminous. Not the tired eyes he'd seen on his brother's face for so long. When his eyes met this Dean's, he felt like he was falling toward them.

Sam wasn't sure why he started walking, pacing alongside De---well, whoever it was. He didn't sense any danger, but still, he couldn't quite reason why he wasn't more suspicious. A lot of things that taken his brother's form over the years, usually to Sam's misfortune.

They walked for several minutes before Sam could draw his attention off the ominous landscape. "Where are we?"

"Don't you recognize it?" was the only response. Sam was somewhat alarmed that his walking companion had changed. Adam was beside him, now. Somehow, he understood that it was actually Adam---the brother he'd never really met---and not the ghoul who had replaced him.

Sam frowned and surveyed the gloomy woods again. He gasped. Between the trees, floating in the fog, were images of his life, hovering until he passed, then receding into the mist. The images were all around him, along both sides of the road.

He saw himself as an infant, being put to bed the night Azazel came for him. He saw himself as a child, with Dean in yet another anonymous motel. At eighteen, engaged in a brutal argument with his Dad while Dean watched. The first time he met Jessica. The LSAT. Dean pulling him from his burning apartment. Leaving Sarah. Shooting Madison. Dean bleeding in a jail cell in Colorado. Lilith. Ruby. The Hell Hounds tearing Dean apart. Demon blood. Uriel threatening him. The panic room. Freeing Lucifer. Ellen and Jo. Dean taking him back...it was all there.

It was overwhelming.

The road was his life. This dark, gloomy, death-lined road was his life. But, that might mean--- "Am I dead?"

John replaced Adam. His dad looked at him, face impossible to read. "The road hasn't ended, yet."

Sam looked again. Famine tempting him. Dean making another deal. Zachariah delivering him to Lucifer. Torture when he refused to say yes. Endless pain...but he'd said no. He'd kept saying no. He'd won that last fight. Lucifer killed him for it, but Sam had won.

"Yes, you did," Jess' voice floated to him. Sam felt a chill when he realized that she had responded to his thoughts, not anything he said. She spoke again before he could. "I am so proud of you. Like the willow you bent but did not break."

Tell that to my bones, Sam almost retorted, but stopped himself. Of course, she seemed to be reading his mind anyway.

The fog began to thin, the slideshow floating away behind them. Sam tried to wrap his brain around his companion's words. "If...if I'm not dead, then why am I here?"

"I never said you weren't dead."

Sam's brow furrowed. "But, you said the road wasn't over yet...."

"That's true."

"I don't understand."

"That's the problem isn't it?" Pastor Jim took Jess' place. "So much happens to us that we don't understand."

"Who are you?"

A pause. "I think you know."

Oh. Sam blinked. Oh. His eyes widened in awe, and he stepped back fearfully until Jim's hand on his shoulder steadied him. Instantly, the fear left him. It was several moments before Sam was able to speak. "Castiel...he found you...?"

"I found him, you could say. Or maybe I found you. It doesn't matter, in the end."

"Is it over? Did Michael win?"

"No."

Sam opened his mouth, but the next, panicked question was cut off.

"Dean's fine. Lucifer is dead. The world is safe. You and your brother did it."

Sam shook his head once. "Dean. Dean did it."

"Not alone. He needed you, and you were there for him."

"Dean didn't need my help. I'm---just a screwed up addict. Nothing I did mattered."

"You think you're weak. Useless."

"I...yeah, I am."

"You're wrong." Ellen told him, favoring him with a sad smile.

Sam snorted derisively. "I freed Lucifer! I believed a demon's lies and turned on my own brother! Everyone who's died...their blood is on my hands...."

"You must have big hands."

"It isn't funny," Sam retorted, a little petulantly. How could God makes jokes about this? "They died because of my mistakes."

Viktor Hendrickson crossed his arms, frowning. "For someone who despises Lucifer and his servants as much as you do, you certainly try to steal a lot of credit for their deeds."

"What? No. That's not--- I mean---"

"Do you know what I see when I look back, Sam?" His mother asked sternly, pointing back at the ethereal scenes in the mist. Beginning to get used to the rapid changes in appearance, Sam glanced back with a derisive snort.

"A monster who was too stupid to know any better?"

Mary glowered. "A boy trying to find his place, and being pushed and pulled in a dozen different directions by forces he couldn't control."

Sam lowered his head. How could she say that? Was she thinking of someone else? Biting his lip, he glanced up at her furtively. "What---what do you see, now?"

His mother smiled. "A man who could have taken the easy way out, but chose to spit in the serpent's face instead. A strong man, and a loving brother. Team Free Will's star player."

Sam's eyes blurred. It couldn't be that simple. His pitiful resistance at the end couldn't possibly make up for his sins. He'd turned against Dean, sided with a demon. Released Lucifer from Hell…tainted himself with demon blood.

"Everyone has moments of weakness, Sammy," John said quietly, placing his hands on Sam's shoulders. "You had some doozies, but through it all, you were trying to do the right thing. Trying to stop the Apocalypse, not start it. That counts, son. It wasn't your fault that the ones who could have warned you chose not to."

Tears slipped from Sam's eyes. He didn't bother trying to hide them, sinking to his knees. "How can you forgive me?" He wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, Dad or Dean or…

"We already have. All of us. Even your brother, though he doesn't show it much, yet."

Sam was pulled into an embrace. The image of his dad was complete, right down to the smell of leather and gun oil. Sam hugged him back, and wondered why absolution seemed to hurt ten times worse than the guilt.

"It's supposed to."

He squeezed his eyes shut against his father's shoulder. "You can hear everything I'm thinking…?"

"There are no secrets here, son. That's behind you."

With a sob, Sam pulled back into himself, wrapping his arms over his chest. "What happens now?"

Sam's own voice answered, and he looked up to look himself in the eyes. "Always looking to the future, eh, Sam?"

He glanced over his shoulder. The ghostly scenes from his past were fading, blowing away in a soft breeze that rustled the tree limbs. "Doesn't look like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice," the other Sam said lightly. "In fact, you have one now."

Sam turned, looking ahead on the road. The landscape had changed. Instead of a straight road, it forked. Two old-fashioned covered bridges stood to his left and right. Each of them looked immensely long.

The one of the left was in good repair, painted white, and ended in a bright, golden light, like a sunset. A literal light at the end of the tunnel.

The bridge of the right was worn, falling apart. It seemed to have no end, just darkness as far as his eyes could see, darker even than the gloomy woods around him. Outside, just below the bridge, the faint light of some distant fire glinted off the rotting wood.

The other Sam pointed to that one first. "Two paths, Sam. Down this one lays the path you have already started on. Darkness, pain, blood. Your brother and friends will continue to suffer, as they have suffered. You will continue to suffer, as you have suffered."

It suddenly clicked in Sam's mind what the firelight was. Hell. He was looking further down the road he'd been on since he'd first given in to Ruby.

"Down this one," the other Sam turned to the brighter tunnel. "There is no more pain, no more darkness. All will be forgiven. You will even learn to forgive yourself."

Sam looked back and forth between the two paths. The dark one on his right frightened him, sent cold shooting down his spine just looking at it. The bright one on his left was definitely looking more appealing, but….

"So, uh…let me get this straight. Down there," he pointed to the dark tunnel. "I go back to my life, the way I was going," he point to the bright one, "and there, I--- It's…salvation, isn't it? I stay dead."

The other Sam watched where he was pointing, but his face was impassive. Finally, he looked at Sam with an unreadable expression. "I've told you what I can. Free will, Sam. You have to choose your own future; I can't tell you what to do."

Sam turned back, weighing what he'd been told. The cold felt worse now, like he was up to his neck in ice water. "I'm scared."

"The future is always frightening. I wish I could help you more."

His eyes lingered on the dark bridge for a few long minutes, then shifted to the bright one. Sam couldn't go on with his life the way it had been. He didn't want to be scared anymore. He didn't want to hurt Dean anymore. As far as he could tell, choosing the dark tunnel would return him to the life that he had already ruined.

That left the other tunnel. The bright light. Salvation, like he'd wanted for so long. Death. Heaven, maybe. Seemed that way. Sam never would have expected that to be an option for him. Dean would hate him for choosing that. For leaving him. Going down the dark path would reunite him with his brother, but damn him.

It was the hardest decision Sam had ever made.

"I don't want to go on the way I've been going," Sam said quietly. "But, I…don't want to lose my brother."

"Don't worry about Dean," the other Sam told him calmly. "This is your future. It's not selfish. It's a choice you must make for yourself."

Sam closed his eyes, not wanting to choose but knowing he had to. Finally, he nodded, and stepped toward the bridge on the left. He had to pick salvation. He had to get off the path he'd been on since Dean's deal had come due, paved with good intentions though it might have been.

When he opened his eyes again, he was already at the end of the bridge, staring into the blinding golden light. The fear seized him again, along with the overwhelming need to do one last thing.

"Can I say goodbye to Dean, first?" He turned to look behind him.

The road was empty. Sam was alone. He got it. There was no going back. I ought to be used to that by now. He nodded to himself. This is it, then. There would be no chance to say goodbye. No chance to apologize for his failings. His brother would be left alone. Sam could only hope it was for the best.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Sam stepped into the light.

00000

Dean sat in the Impala for what felt like a long time. The sun was setting. His eyes kept settling on the shack by the pier. He'd seen it somewhere….

The passenger side door opened, making Dean jump. He turned in time to see Sam drop into the seat.

His mouth dropped open. Sam sat for a few seconds, then frowned and looked around like he didn't know where he was. A pair of confused eyes landed on him, then widened.

"Dean?" Sam spoke his name like it was a prayer. Dean didn't know what to make of that. All he knew was that his brother was alive…and sitting beside him.

Dean scooped Sam up and hugged him tight. "Sammy…."

His brother hesitantly returned the embrace, but Dean felt Sam's chin digging into his shoulder as he turned his head back and forth.

"This is…not what I was expecting," Sam said slowly, sounding utterly bewildered.

Dean released him, unable to keep the grin off his face, and sat back. "What do you mean?"

Sam frowned, feeling the seat leather and the dashboard, obviously trying to get his bearings. "I was just…somewhere. It was dark…and…there was a light. I--- I think I was dead."

"You remember?" Dean asked, anxiously.

"There was a tunnel, and a light…you know, just like the movies," Sam continued. "It was…warm, and I stepped into it…and then…this. I was here."

He didn't know what to say to that. Sam shook his head, frown turning into a bemused smirk. "Is this…? I mean…Heaven is the Impala?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, biting back his amused thought: of course it is! Sam had asked a great question. He remembered stepping off the beach. He remembered talking to…someone, then getting in the car. Glancing to his left, he saw the shack again and suddenly it clicked, like a light turning on.

It was the seaside shack in Delaware. Home of the best hamburgers Dean had ever eaten.

It was also closed. Boarded up. Looked like it had been abandoned for years.

"No, dude. I don't think this is Heaven…."

Sam followed his gaze, but didn't seem to comprehend what Dean saw. "Lucifer…he killed me, didn't he?"

Dean's mood darkened as the memory came back. He nodded. Sam seemed to need a moment to soak it in.

"What happened?"

"You said no," Dean explained, a note of deeply felt pride coloring his voice. "You said no, Sammy, and you spit in his face---which, I gotta say, was awesome, man. He was pretty pissed, and…he…."

"Yeah…I remember some of that," Sam murmured. "I'd hoped you hadn't seen that."

Dean's cell buzzed in his pocket. He glanced apologetically at Sam as he fished it out. "The rest is…really crazy. Hang on--- Hello?"

"Dean? What did you do?"

"Bobby?" His friend sounded odd. He was either furious or ecstatic. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the older hunter.

"My legs, Dean. I was rolling to get my phone, and all of a sudden…I just…stood up."

Holy crap. Dean hesitated. "That's…wow, Bobby. I don't know what to say."

"Well, I do, boy. It's a freakin' miracle. Whatever you and Sam did…thank you."

"Bobby---"

"I mean it, son. From the bottom of my heart."

Dean didn't say anything. Their friend was healed. He couldn't ask anything more than that, even if he didn't understand it.

"Now, get your butts back here. I wanna know everything!" The call ended abruptly.

"Dean?" Sam called, staring at him in confusion. Dean glanced at him, a smile tugging at his face.

"Bro, I think we won."

00000

Sam sat on the edge of Bobby's porch, watching Cheney rip into a T- bone. He nursed a beer in one hand, mainly in an attempt to lessen the intense hangover he had from the previous night's victory celebration.

He was at a loss to explain any of what had happened. Dean had filled him in on what he missed---including meeting God after Michael had fallen. How crazy was that? Sam was remembering bits and pieces. Faces. A few phrases. But, whatever had happened to him after Lucifer struck him down was still a mystery, for the most part.

Mainly he felt like an immense weight had been lifted. Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…free.

The front door opened, and Dean stepped out, sipping from his own beer. He walked over and plopped down beside Sam, holding the bottle out. Sam clinked his against Dean's. His brother was happier than he'd been since…before. Before Ruby. Before Hell. It was so contagious that it made Sam happy just being next to him.

Which made what he needed to say even more important.

"Dean, we need to talk."

His brother's smile slipped fractionally. "That…sounds bad."

Sam couldn't help but grin. "No. It's not! Dean…it's gone."

Dean's smile was returning, mainly out of reflex. He was clearly confused. "What?"

"The blood. The addiction. It's gone! I can feel it."

"Really?"

Sam nodded, smiling so intensely he started to tear up. He was free. At last.

"Well, this calls for celebration, bro!" Dean crowed. "What are you doing out here?"

"I just…I'm just trying to take it in, you know?" Sam sputtered. He wasn't sure what it meant or how or why, all he knew was he wanted to jump for freakin' joy. "I mean, what does it mean? I'm cured, I know, but…what do we do now?"

Dean pursed his lips, frowning in concentration, then he grinned again. "Karaoke."

"What?"

"I don't know, Sammy. We have to decide if we're gonna keep hunting, or retire, or whatever…but that's tomorrow! Today is our victory lap."

Dean held out his bottle again. "To the future, little brother."

Sam accepted the toast with a wide grin. Dean was right. Tomorrow.

"To the future."

END