Sam gazed at the knife in his hands. The third trial was nearly complete. Crowley was just moments away from being cured. The gates of Hell would finally close forever. So why was he hesitating on this golden opportunity?

Was he frightened of what the third trial would do to him? The first two left him in a sickly state that even the Angels couldn't cure according to Castiel. Plus, the second trial had taken an even worse toll on his health than the first trial did. If
/he did complete this, what would happen to him then?

Or maybe it was because he was scared it wouldn't work. It had worked on that demon that Father Thompson cured, but that was a regular demon. Crowley was the King of Hell. For all he knew, Crowley could have been faking everything he had said up until
then. Butall the same, it sounded completely genuine when he had practically sobbed that he deserved to be loved.

But the most likely reason he hadn't completed the trial, the very reason he was considering to leave the trial incomplete,was that he was afraid he would disappoint Dean, just like he always did.

Oh come on, he thought to himself. Dean would be proud of you. He'd celebrate in the Impala for days on end if you did this.

Try as he might, he couldn't reassure himself of the inevitable. No matter what he did, no matter how many times he convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, Dean always had some reason to show him that he was completely wrong. Even ifhe
was proven right, the feeling of guilt never left him. He was always left with the thought that he had disappointed his big brother, even if it had been for only a second.

Come to think of it, maybe Dean had already given up on him. He had left with Cas hours ago to finish the Angel Trials, and he didn't seem to be coming back anytime soon. If Dean had truly cared about these trials, he would have come sooner to help himfinish
the job. But of course he trusts the angels more than his own brother. After all, the only things he'd ever done for Dean, for anyone in fact, had resulted in everyone mistrusting him for an indefinite period of time. Wasn't that allhewas
good for? Ruining everyone's lives?

Sam shook his head. No. He couldn't let those thoughts get in the way of this. Screw Dean. Screw Cas and the Angel trials. Screw all of the disappointment that would be tossed his way after this was over. This was his decision. He didn't needhisolderbrother
to tell him what was right or wrong. He would end this here and now.

Sam's hand shook as he cut his hand open. He uttered the words of the exorcism just as if he was reading it from a textbook. He glanced at Crowley for one moment. The former King looked at him with tears in his eyes, and nodded, accepting his fate.

This is for my family, Sam thought. Closing his eyes, he brought his hand towards Crowley's face, and the world was engulfed in white.

When Sam opened his eyes, Crowley was sitting unconscious in the chair. Slowly, he poured a drop of holy water on him. Nothing. Not even a sizzle. He sighed in relief. He didit. Crowley was cured. All that was left to do was read the final wordsof
the spell toclose the gates of Hell forever.

Sam unlocked Crowley's handcuffs, and unlocked the chains binding him to the chair. Therewas no threat posed to him now that he was no longer a demon. He pickedup the paper, reading the incantation once more in his mind. He paused for a moment,listening
for the engine of the Impala, but only silencegreeted him. Typical of Dean. Cas and him were probably celebrating Heaven's gates closing forever. But Sam no longer cared. He was finally doing what he had desired for months.

Putting the paper down, he recited the spell from memory. As he finished the last word, blinding pain burst through his body. He fell to the floor, screaming in agony, as the pain only grew after every second.

"SAM!" a voice called in the distance. He could barely hear it. In fact, all of his senses were fading. At least the pain was going away.

"SAMMY!" the voice called again, fainter this time. He could hear the door burst open, and in his blurry vision, he could see the outline of his brother, a look of shock and despair on his face.

"Dean..." he whispered, shocked that any words came out. He was dying. He knew it. He could barely move his body at all.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his voice breaking. He rushed to his side, although Sam could barely see him through the blackness overtaking his vision. He tried his best to crack a smile, to give his brother a glimmer of hope.

"We did it, Dean," he murmured. "The gates are closed."

"I know, Sam," Dean said, tears brimming in his eyes. "Now we're going to get you out of here. We're going to get you somewhere safe so you can..."

But Sam didn't hear the rest of the sentence. He couldn't hear anything really. If this was death, it wasn't so bad. It was more peaceful than he'd thought. It was as if he was being rewarded for sealing Hell.

Smiling, he closed his eyes, and let himself fall into Death's embrace.