Author's Note:

Never directly messed with Canon before. Hope it doesn't suck out loud. I don't normally do angst, and this is definitely the highest I'll ever go on the ol' Angst-ometer. (The next one is already turning out to be my usual fare.)

Comments are love, people.


ONE

"Sam, forget it!" Dean roared. "You ain't coming with me! It's bad enough that the bastards have me, without them watching you do your cryin' and gibbering wreck impression too!"

"You selfish bastard! You selfish bastard!" Sam shouted back at him across the room. "Just cos you think you're some kind of hero, going there alone and meeting this thing!"

"You're damned right I'm a hero!" Dean shot back. "Last time I looked, I saved your dead ass from the Pit!"

"You think I was going to Hell?" Sam fumed. "Well thanks for the faith in me!"

"Right, cos all this warring-on-demons thing isn't turning you into something you ain't?" Dean snapped. "I know how this works, Sam! Trust me on this – you were dead and I knew I would do anything – anything – to get you back! And I did it! I knew it was dumb, I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway!"

"Dean—"

"Listen to me! I was convinced I'd never do what Dad did! I knew it would be stupid to throw everything away and make a deal, but I did it! I can't tell you what I was thinkin', cos I don't think I was. And that's exactly what's going to happen to you." He paused, trying to calm himself. But the thought of Sam going through the same rigmarole and starting this off all over again burned in his chest. "So don't be an idiot, Sam! They're expecting you to be there – they want you to watch while I die! So that they can squeeze some kind of deal from you, too. And you're gonna just stand there and give them the satisfaction! You don't know it yet – but there'll be this tiny little moment when you realise you think you can save me, and you'll snap their goddamned hands off to do it. And that's when they'll have you!"

"Oh yeah? You think I'll do exactly what you did?" Sam shouted, his anger refusing to lie down. "You think I'd be that stupid? You think I'd be as weak as you were?"

There was a stunned silence.

"Well, there we are," Dean said quietly, and Sam bit his lip desperately. "Yeah, I think you'd be as weak as I was. After all, that's what us Winchesters are here for, right?" he breathed. "To be weak for each other."

"That's not what I meant," Sam managed quietly, on a nervous swallow.

Another long silence. Sam avoided his gaze, but he could feel his brother's anger raking needles over his skin. He looked up slowly, meeting his eyes.

Dean let his shoulders sag abruptly.

"Like it matters," he sighed wearily.

"Of course it matters!" Sam exploded. "You're waiting around for her, for collection, tonight. Tonight, Dean!"

"Thanks, I got a watch."

"Is this really what you want to do before you leave? Before I – before we get separated?" he demanded.

Dean stared at him, but any anger he had left turned to resignation.

"No," he admitted.

"The last thing I did was argue with Dad. And then he died. I don't want to argue with you too," Sam said quietly.

"Before I die?"

"Oh ye of little faith, Dean," he whispered.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked desperately, walking round the bed and up to his brother. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Sam just glared at him guiltily. Don't look at me with those pissed-off eyes, he thought suddenly. Don't you do that. If you only knew what I've gone through to get ready for tonight.

"Sam!" Dean hissed, grabbing his shirt and shaking him once before pulling him toward him. "Sam! How many times! If you try and screw with this deal, if you even try and intervene when she gets here, you – are – going – to – die. Do you understand me? The deal gets undone, and you die. So don't you even think about it. Don't you even think about it!" he growled suddenly. "I did not do this so you can throw it all away!"

"Like you did?" Sam managed. "You just threw away your life, Dean! On me! Why would you do that?"

"Cos you were all I had!" Dean raged. "And I was not going to let you ditch on this family! You and me are all that's left!"

Sam stared at him, putting his hands up slowly and pulling his brother's from his shirt. He pushed him off with a slow sweep of his hands.

"And when you let yourself die? What then, Dean? Hmm? Who's left then?" he asked with biting sourness.

Dean took a step back, avoiding his younger brother's eyes.

"Dean. Trust me. I do not want to die," he said firmly. "But how am I supposed to just let you die today, or tonight, or in fact ever—"

"Sam, just stop," he pleaded, backing away and sitting heavily on the bed behind him. "Just… stop. This is not what I wanted on my last day."

"Then what did you want?" Sam scoffed. "Ice cream?"

"I wanted you to just… just accept it and move on," Dean said, leaning forwards and putting his face in his hands. He dragged them over his weary skin slowly, and it was silent until he looked up at his brother again.

"You think this is it? It's over?" Stop it! Don't give it away, Sam! He bit his lip deliberately.

"I think you did everything you could, smartass, but in the end their contracts are more water-tight than Jacque Cousteau's diving shorts," Dean snapped. "That could be why Hell's never short of people to make new demons out of."

Sam sighed.

"Fantastic. So today we'll go on as every other day. Let me see," he said suddenly, lifting a hand to count the fingers. "Argue like siblings, check." He tapped off fingers as he listed. "Get coffee and doughnuts, check. Tinker with the Impala, check. Be facetious in the face of certain death, check. Say goodbye to your only family left cos he's refusing to try and get out of his own death, check," he added harshly.

"Sammy, don't do this," he said gently. "Please? Just… Just stay here?"

"And do what, Dean? Count down till midnight? Stop myself from calling your phone every few minutes to see if you'll pick up after the clock strikes twelve?"

"Sammy please," he urged, his eyes turned up in anguish.

Don't look at me like that, Sam thought, stricken. He tried to hold onto his anger. Have faith in your little brother. This time I'm playing with more than a full deck. I just hope one day you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do.

He took a deep breath.

"No, Dean. This is me not being the weak one. This is me telling you that I'm coming with you. This is me telling you that you have to trust me when I say I will not make some stupid deal. Sacrifice is not the way out."

"Little late for that."

"You will let me come with you. You owe me that, after you did this to me," Sam said dangerously.

Dean stared at him, his eyes searching his for a long moment.

"What happened to you, man?" Dean breathed, standing up again. "Sometimes I don't even know you any more."

"Death happened to me," Sam retaliated.

"And what's it turning you into?" came Dean's retort.

"You know, I've thought about that," Sam smiled. It was not a nice smile, and something made the hair on the back of Dean's neck try to stand on end.

"And?"

"I'm the quiet one. I'm the small, ineffectual, useless one."

Dean stared for a long second. "What the hell?"

"I'm the quiet one. They'll never see me coming," he breathed darkly.

"Ok, you're scaring me now, Sammy. You're Al Pacino? 'Devil's Advocate'? So you're the Devil now?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "No. They don't know us, Dean, they just think they do. Just cos you watch Barry Bonds swing a million times doesn't mean you know how he's going to hit the next curveball."

Dean looked at the bed, thinking for a long moment. He looked up at Sam, his mind whirling.

"Something here is horribly, horribly wrong," he muttered, as if to himself.

"How do you figure?" Sam asked quietly, and Dean looked at him suspiciously. "You're scheduled to die tonight. What could go wrong with that? What's she gonna do, forget to come get you?"

"So we're agreed? You're not pulling any stupid last-minute stunts, and I'm going to feel guilty for eternity?" he snapped.

"Agreed," Sam said softly. Stop looking at me like you can read my mind. Stop looking at me – stop looking at me, he pleaded silently as his brother stared at him. Stop or I'll have to admit what I've been doing this week.

Dean let his gaze drop and he wet his lips nervously.

"Ok then," he said gingerly, and Sam almost let his shoulders sag in relief.

"I hope you know your 'yippee-kai-ey!'s from your 'knockin' on heaven's door's," he said unexpectedly.

Dean looked at him in confusion.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Sam?" he joked, but his humour was suffering from lack of conviction.

Sam smiled.

It sent a chill down Dean's spine.


Dean let the Impala slide up slowly in the darkness, checking his watch quickly to see it showing four minutes to midnight.

"Here we are," Dean said quietly.

Sam looked around the murky wilderness slowly, nodding to himself.

"Remind me, why'd you want to come here?" Dean asked.

"Just cos," Sam said defensively. "Just cos."

"Whatever," Dean sighed. "Dude, just tell me one thing," he said quickly.

Sam looked at him from the passenger seat as his older sibling killed the engine and turned to look back at him.

"What?"

"That you'll look after the old girl," he said, patting the steering wheel affectionately. Sam snorted.

"You're giving me the family heirloom?" he scoffed flippantly. "I'm not taking her home tonight."

Dean caught at his arm suddenly, yanking. Sam looked round at him. "What?"

"Sam. Tell me you're not planning anything."

Sam sighed, took a deep breath, and levelled Dean with a gaze that overflowed with innocence.

"I am not planning anything."

"Sam, I can't do this if I think you're about to try and pull some—"

"Alright! Enough! I'm not about to welsh on this deal in the last five minutes!" Sam shouted, exasperated.

Dean eyed him for a long moment, before Sam shook his arm off him. Dean huffed, opening his door and getting out. The door squeaked and Sam blew out a sigh, before swallowing a nervous lump in his throat the size of a football.

They had barely closed the doors before a dark shape emerged from the shadows.

"You two are hard to track down," said a warm voice, and they turned to see a rusty-haired lady in the requisite slinky dress walking toward them.

"Damn," Dean breathed appreciatively. "You ladies do dress the part, don't you?"

"Well I was warned about you, Mr Winchester," she replied, revealing perfect teeth beneath the achingly beautiful curved smile.

"Mmm," Dean managed. Sam cleared his throat nervously. Dean looked at him. "Don't sweat it," he said indignantly. "It's not going to change anything."

"Sammy. Aww," she cooed, looking over at him. "Come to say your last goodbye?"

"Something like that," he nodded. A small muscle in his face jumped slightly and she let her smile widen.

"Calm down," she soothed, putting her hands behind her back and watching them. "It's just nice that someone arrives on time as planned. I was wondering if I'd have to call out the hounds." She paused, studying their faces, and it was silent save the usual night noises. "So…"

"So," Dean said quietly.

"What time you got?" she asked politely.

Dean looked down at his wrist.

He gasped and choked as fingers gripped the underside of his chin like ice.

"I make it one after midnight," she whispered, leaning into his right ear.

I never even saw her move, his mind commented in a detached way. He felt her breath against his cheek and it made his skin crawl.

"I've wanted to say this for a while now, Dean… Your ass is mine," she oozed.

"Um… not technically," Sam interrupted innocently.

She looked up from her appreciation of Dean's profile, finding Sam stood behind his brother's right shoulder.

"I thought you'd be shorter," she smiled.

"I thought you'd be able to read small print," Sam said politely.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Dean's supposed to die. He can't go to Hell alive, can he?" Sam supplied neatly.

The demon blinked suddenly black orbs as Dean struggled to speak, his own eyes rolling in anger at his brother.

"Ooh Dean, did you know your brother was going to sell you out like this?" she grinned maliciously.

He struggled to speak again, but her grip at the top of his windpipe was too strong.

"Too bad. Looks like Sammy is one of us after all."

"I had to do something to get in," Sam said quietly. Dean stopped struggling, instead closing his eyes.

"Oh Sam, you're breaking his heart," she said, her face sad to the extreme. "Poor, tortured Dean," she frowned, sliding her free hand over his face gently. "My poor soldier. You never even saw it coming, did you? Sam himself is going to stab you in the back, as they say."

Dean crushed his eyes shut, trying to block out the awful realisation of what was about to happen.

"Actually?" Sam growled abruptly. "This blade's for you, bitch."

There was a glint of metal. She gasped and let go of the older Winchester. He dropped to his knees, struggling to get some breath back to prevent himself from passing out.

Sam was stabbing forward. She snatched at the flash of silvery light so close to her face. She closed her fingers round the blade and held it firm.

Sam pushed and wrenched, but she simply put a palm out and slapped it into his chest.

He gave a grunt as he flew backwards. He rolled completely head-over-heels and landed in the grass. She gave a laugh, turning the blade round leisurely and getting a good grip on the handle.

"Nice try, Sam," she said, her voice like ice. "And a nice knife," she added, distracted. "Where did you get it?"

Sam scrambled to his feet, making for Dean. He stumbled in the grass and landed against his shoulder, both brothers sitting up and trying to get their heads together.

"But we've dragged this out long enough. Dean should have been down in Hell about… ooh, five minutes ago? We've got a warm seat reserved for him and everything," she grinned evilly.

"Take your best shot," Sam spat at her, against his panting for air, and she laughed.

"Oh I will," she breathed, advancing on the boys. She stopped, reached down, and grabbed at Dean's throat.

He was lifted up as if he didn't weigh nearly two hundred pounds, his feet sprawling uselessly in the grass as she kept him just off his knees.

She brought her hand back, the blade shining in the moonlight.

"The next voice you hear will be your own – screaming," she growled vehemently.

Dean couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. Suddenly the world dropped away, and all he could hear was the one thing he'd never hear again.

Sam's voice.

It was quiet, humble, hushed. He was gibbering, simply making random noises.

Who can blame him? Dean thought suddenly. If I weren't about to die anyway, I'd be shittin' maself too.

She laughed, drew in a deep breath, and stabbed the blade up.

Sam lunged suddenly, throwing himself into Dean's back.

He was driven forwards. Onto the knife.