A/N: Normally I wouldn't kill Sam and Dean off in the same story, but I wrote this for SPN Hiatus Creations on tumblr, so I kind of had to.
"And if we die, we'll do that together too."
Sam remembered saying that to Dean a few years ago, and he'd meant it. He had. And he had thought that time would come when they were in Apocalypse World. It had for Sam, but not for Dean. He'd died and he hadn't had his brother with him for those last few seconds he'd been in the dark, surrounded by ravenous, blood-starved monsters.
There'd been a lot of touch-and-go moments since then and throughout their lives, really. They'd died over and over again. Back during the Apocalypse they had died together. And they'd died together when they were in prison for attempting to assassinate the president of the United States.
Now it looked like they would die together again.
The Winchesters had gone up against a nest of Wendigos that were in the northern part of the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington. The hike had been about four hours: too late for them to save any of the campers that had been taken. But they could wipe out this nest. That, they could do.
But there were more Wendigos than they had anticipated, and they hadn't brought Jack or Castiel along for backup, and it was too late to call for help. It was just the two of them.
Three Wendigos down, two to go, but one had gotten the jump on them, had tried to drag Dean off. Sam had killed it in a fiery blaze, but not before it'd dug its claws deep into Dean's gut, his brother screaming in agony. And as Sam had run to him, another Wendigo had grabbed him from behind and slammed him up against the roof of the cave, jagged rock digging into his face and nearly taking his left eye, and something stabbed into his thigh, drawing blood.
The Wendigo then threw Sam down onto the floor, and he saw a flash of light, most likely Dean killing the other one. It all happened too quickly for him to comprehend. Sam had dropped his flamethrower when he'd been grabbed, and after kicking the Wendigo in the ankle, he scrabbled across the rough floor of the cavern, dust collecting his blood. He reached into the shadows where he could just see it, and he felt teeth dig into his calf, causing him to scream. And Dean was screaming again, light no longer coming from off to the right where Sam had seen him go down.
"Sam!" his brother cried out.
"Dean!"
"I'm all outta juice!"
Sam turned, his injuries throbbing from the motion, and set the Wendigo that was gnawing on his leg on fire. It let go of him, screeching, and then it blew up, its putrid-smelling guts landing on him and making him cough. Quickly, Sam was on his feet, adrenaline and fear for his brother's safety making him forget about his mangled leg for the moment.
Nausea and horror flooded him as he saw the hulking, yet skinny form of the lone Wendigo feasting on his brother's shoulder as Dean tried to pry it off of him with bloodied fingers. Sam torched the monster before it managed to find an artery, but it had already taken a chunk out of his shoulder, and it made his own leg throb as he thought of the chunk now missing from it.
It exploded, splattering them with gore, but Sam ignored it, going to kneel beside Dean. He just about collapsed. Blood was leaving both of them in hurried spurts, as if their hearts couldn't wait to give out.
Sam put his hands over Dean's injuries - the one in his stomach and the one in his shoulder - and Dean did the same for the one in his thigh. But they both looked at each other, breathing heavily, tears in their eyes, and they knew it was hopeless.
"Come on, let's get outside," Dean got out. "I wanna see the sunrise."
A sob left Sam, but he managed to smile at him.
He didn't know how they made it outside. He remembered carrying Dean, Dean carrying him. Throbbing, aching. He grew cold save for where Dean's body touched his. Their hearts were racing, maybe trying to see who could die faster as their life bled out. But they made it out, their arms around each other. The early morning air up in the mountains was cold, but thankfully, there was hardly a breeze. From the outcropping they were on they could see the jagged outlines of pine trees, their dark green smattered across the mountainside. The day grew brighter, light filling the sky, like gray turned to radiant fire, and then there was blue, some of the bluest blue they'd ever seen. And white clouds dotted the sky as they saw grass and trees and water spread out below them. Birds sang, their songs happy save for the mourning doves with their somber cooing.
"I'm glad I'm with you, Dean," Sam whispered, his lungs not wanting to find the air to breathe, to speak.
"Me too, Sammy. Me too," Dean choked out.
"I thought we'd go out saving the world," he admitted, his lips playing between a smile and a grimace, tears rolling down his cheeks.
A sharp intake of breath from Dean. "We did, little brother."
They stopped admiring the sunrise, and were laying down now. The brothers pulled each other close, and held on as tightly as they could, waiting for that inevitable last breath, not scared of where they'd end up. They were together now, and they'd be together after.
"Jerk," Sam wheezed.
"Bitch," his brother responded.
A rattling breath from Sam, an exhale from Dean, and they were gone, together, the dawn of the new day shining over the Winchesters, the brothers who had saved the world.
