I'll Never See Detroit

By PhoenixDragonDreamer

Spoilers/Warning: Dark!Fic, Horror, Character Death, Spoilers for 5.10

Wordcount: 678

A/N: Written for Horror!Meme at LJ Comm Sharp_Teeth

Prompt: About five things were immune to the Colt. Sam was willing to bet that he wasn't one of them.

Disclaimer: Sadly (for me) I do not own them - they are owned by Cw, Kripke and Co. I just (unfortunately for THEM) like to play with them occasionally. I promise I will put them back in the same condition I found them in (which wasn't all that great to begin with *grins*). Not making any money - just having an awesome time!

Just like that.

Lucifer turned back to his digging and Sam found the rage that had lit him up from within had soured and darkened in the pit of his stomach, turning to dread and a queasy species of panic. He didn't want to know what was at rest just under Lucifer's feet, he didn't want to see the deadened eyes of his brother -

as he snapped that scrawny neck like a dry matchstick

- six months from now, to know Bobby as an enemy - see Castiel turn away, the words 'monster, filth' shining from him like bleeding cascades of grace and faith unfounded.

He didn't want...he didn't WANT!

He curled his lip in defiance and pain, turning his back on the creature that had set the ball rolling, that had condemned him, all those he loved, the world to this nightmare - like they were nothing.

Like they were TOYS.

He could feel that he was alone. Lucifer had gone back to his task, humming happily, sure that -

the mudmonkey

- that Sam was still scared, still reeling - that Dean was still down for the count. He was right about Dean. He wasn't right about much, really, but Dean would be out for a few more seconds.

And he had to make them count.

He bent towards his brother, gripping his shoulder tightly for a moment, soaking up the Dean-ness that was his older sibling. Soaking up his strength, his will, his loving loyalty, holding on tightly as the world crashed apart within his mind - the very idea of his face, his brain, his body no longer being his own, being his - repugnant. He'd been there before (millions of years ago and thousands of times) and he hadn't liked it much then.

But to burn away completely? To have nothing left of you - your hopes, dreams, loves, nightmares, quirks, hatred, pain and home?

To no longer be Dean's baby brother?

"Unacceptable." He whispered, giving Dean's shoulder one last squeeze, before he staggered upright, grim smile stretching his mouth wide, making his cheeks ache with the spontaneous force of it.

He could see when Lucifer got the warning. One of the nearby reapers squawked in alarm and what was left of poor Nick swung around with the speed of a striking snake, eyes literally blazing from his skull.

'Gotcha...'

"No!! Stop him!" He howled, the cries of a thousand damned howling with him, his voice a sonic boom of tension that could literally be felt with the body, as well as heard with the ears. The cacaphony battering at Sam, clawing through his mind with the ringing, empty snarls of the Void, trying to make him halt in his course, keep him from going through with it.

Too bad they were dealing with a fucking Winchester.

"Yes!" He laughed/shrieked, grinning, grinning that rictus of the damned as he put the Colt to his temple, hammer cocked and ready. The enchanted steel of the barrel sanging through him, humming whispers of soothing coolness and comfort to his mind, steadying him where he faltered.

Whatever strength and hope was left he owed to Dean, to his brother - he could only hope it would be enough, that it would make this easier.

Said brother flashed to his feet (with that eerie grace Sam had always envied), Castiel rippling into being at his side - terror, rage, panic and that deep, deep sadness he carried with him (always, always now that he was Free) shining like a halo from his eyes.

Dean: His beginning, his middle - all the way to the end. He could see the word 'No' forming on his brother's lips (he could almost hear it) and smiled again in assurance, flicking his eyes over Castiel's (those endless wells of calm, warmth and the unknown) wishing he could say he was sorry, wishing he had more time. But he wasn't and there was not...

Sam Winchester faced the Devil, smiled that serene smile -

And pulled the trigger.