Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
Summary: A little blood would be a welcome reminder of normal and in the end--who was he kidding no one was going to make it to the end. Post Dead Man's Blood
Spoilers: everything to Dead Man's Blood

Realization

Sam lay on his back staring up at the ceiling thinking one question over and over again, what would make someone build a gun to kill anything? The guy fought in a war, true, but what would suddenly drive him to make that gun? Something had to have happened, but what?

He was covered in blood. He knew that was what happened when you killed enemies, human and otherwise, but that didn't mean that he liked the sight of blood. Truth be told, he always hated to think that he was wearing someone else. After all, blood is the life force of everyone so being covered in blood really is no different than wearing what's left of someone's soul--that is if it had one.

Pulling on a different, blood free, shirt he flopped down on the lumpy mattress on the floor that he called his bed. He was tired and exhausted. Who knew killing enemies that were human in a human war was as tiring as killing non-humans in a non-human war?

Of course, since this was a human war he was fighting he should technically have been a soldier. However, being a "soldier" would entail him taking orders from some guy who thought he knew how to lead an army, yeah like that would ever happen. Besides, then he wouldn't be able to come, kill, and go as he pleased.

As a hunter, he killed things that were evil and right now, the evil things were those men trying to take over people and land that did not belong to them. The other evil thing was his mind that just did not know that it was suppose to turn off when he was trying to sleep.

The power was so great that he was able to touch it; it swirled around his callused fingertips in golden wisps of air. Then fire so evil that it glowed pure red-orange erupted from the darkness above him and tried to consume the power, but the power was too strong.

It's once silent heart beat for the first time and it glowed so bright that it lost its golden tint and became white. The red-orange and white blurred around each other waiting for the other to fall, but neither would, neither could. The power of each was too strong.

Suddenly both entities came to the same realization--neither could ever win in this form. Then they both charged at each other with that thought in mind. The blast of the collision was so great the both powers were shattered into pieces and scattered so deep in the souls of innocents that it would take generations for it ever to come close to the surface.

But someday time would be the enemy and the scattered pieces would surface and when they did--god help us all because the evil of the fire will destroy anyone and anything in the world with more power than it, after all when the end comes it has to be sure that it will have enough power to survive.

His eyes snapped open as reality came back to him, but it didn't come back alone. He got up and rushed outside to untie the horse he had tied to a stake in the ground. He jumped on the horse's back and was already gone before he could even question what he had seen.

It took three days to come to a town with a blacksmith's workshop. It took three weeks to make the gun and bullets exactly as he was suppose to, but he did. It took two days to build the box that it would reside in for many generations. It took another twelve weeks to ride across the country to unmarked land to an unknown place to hide an unknown weapon for an unknown future hunter to find.

Then he did what he did best--he wore the blood of his enemies. But this time it didn't bother him to wear someone else's blood because he knew when it started, a little blood would be a welcome reminder of normal and in the end--who was he kidding no one was going to make it to the end.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he simply lay on his back stunned. Knowing what made him make the gun was no comfort to what lay ahead. Sam now knew what was starting and came to a realization--the end would only bring death.