Sam stares up at Dean from his kneeling position. No, not at Dean... this wasn't Dean, his brother was not this monster. Whatever the Mark of Cain had done to him, whatever it had forced him to become, Dean; the real Dean, was the best man he knew. Sam would never have admitted it to him, especially with the sizable ego he already carried with him. Sam had looked up to Dean since he was 4 years old. That much he'd admitted, years ago. Truthfully, it went much deeper than that. Every single good memory from his childhood, involved Dean. Dean going out of his way to make a holiday special... lying to Dad and taking Sam to a baseball game.. or just staying up all night on a school night, playing video games, drinking TAB and laughing until their sides hurt. That man still existed, somewhere beneath the demon, his brother still lived.
Dean glowered down at Sam, his blackened eyes gleaming with not fury, not vengance, not the insatiable desire to kill that Sam had expected. Dean's eyes were dark, empty, expressionless pits.
Sam had seen many expressions play across his brothers eyes. Often they were home to a deep-rooted pain. A to-the-core sadness that Sam knew he'd contributed to. No matter what he did, Sam had known he could never make up for the times he'd let him down. He could never apologize enough for Ruby, or Lilith, or the times he'd walked away, most especially leaving his brother to rot in Purgatory. Sam couldn't protect Dean from the Mark of Cain, from Metatron, and now once again he'd failed him. Sam couldn't bring his brother back. Now he was going to die, and Dean would become the prey of another hunter.
"Give it up Sammy," Dean says in a cold patronizing tone. "I don't want to be saved."
"You don't... know.. what you're.. saying." Sam gasps out his lungs aching, unable to fully expand, possibly a lung is punctured, or a rib is dislocated, Sam went to school be a lawyer not a doctor.
" I do," Dean says " I know exactly what I'm saying. That's what I've been trying to get through your thick skull. Your brother is gone, at least the one you knew.. the one you loved so much you'd do anything for. I'm not a demon in your brother's meat-suit Sam. My soul is black, What I was before died when Metatron killed me."
"I don't believe that." Sam whispers unable to draw enough breath. " I can't.." Dean scoffs
"Well, that certainly is your choice." Dean says "If you'd rather believe your dear brother would choice to kill his baby brother, that is entirely your perogative."
Sam looks down at his bloody hands, holding his stomach inside of his body. He was getting weaker, if he was going to do this, he was going to have to do it soon.
"The best part of this is finally having an excuse to end your sniveling life." Dean spits at Sam.
"All those years, saving your ass again and again. Feeling it was my responsibility to protect someone who couldn't protect himself. Devoting so much energy to emotions. Loving, and caring, watching you succeed, catching you went you repeatedly failed. Wanting so much for you and knowing there was nothing I could do..." Dean trails off, his eyes flicking back to their usual green. Dean stared at a patch over Sam's shoulder, then shakes his head. "Glad to be rid of it all, you know why? Because now I'm free, now I can have fun."
"Murdering innocent people?" Sam mutters fall back off his knees. "That's your idea of fun?"
"If the shoe fits." Dean says "I'm evil now, remember?"
"Fine," Sam says gasping to pull some oxygen into his failing body. "Finish me then, finally be rid of me." Dean grabs a handful of Sam's hair pulling his head back, and pressing a blade to the nape of his neck.
"I'm going to enjoy this." Dean says. Sam moves one of his arms and pulls the First Blade out of the waistband of his pants and quick as a flash presses the blade to his brother's chin. "Well well well, look who just grew a pair." Dean snarls unphased by the only weapon that can kill him. "Wherever did you get that?"
"A friend..." Sam says gripping the blade tighter in case Dean decides to make a grab for it.
"How did Cas get his hands on the blade?" Dean asks, still confident.
"Not Cas." Sam says his vision darkening around the edges from lack of oxygen, and probably the blood loss as well. Dean stares at Sam for a moment.
"Crowley..." Dean says his facade slipping slightly "why would he betray me?"
"Crowley's nobody's bitch Dean, you should know that." Sam says, he may have even laughed a little if he wasn't fighting unconsciousness, this was taking longer that he'd anticipated. "He fights for a cause, when befriending you no longer benefits him, he cuts you loose."
Sam sways slightly, apart from his head stuck in Dean's death grip.
"You feeling alright there Sammy?" Dean says readopting his patronizing tone from before. "You look awfully pale." Sam takes a deep breath, his ribs throbbing and his lungs screaming, when he exhales, the pain is worse, his ribs feel as though they are constricting his lungs, even after Sam releases the air in a cry of pain. Sam's arm falls and the Blade falls to the ground. Then the dizziness wins, the ground rushes up to meet Sam and he lays on the ground, his body going into shock. He naturally begins to take small shallow breaths, desperately trying to get what little oxygen he can.
Dean kicks the First Blade to the side kneeling next to Sam, preparing to plunge the blade into Sam's chest.
Sam wheezes and looks up at Dean, his eyes full of tears.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save you." Sam says his chest constricting. Sam closes his eyes as Dean raises the blade. Dean cries out suddenly as the First Blade is driven into his lower back. Dean drops the blade and turns wildly to see Crowley, the First Blade in his hand.
"I thought you could wield the Blade without the Mark of Cain?" Dean says weakly, the Blade's magic already draining his powers.
"I'm the King of Hell Dean, I don't need some silly brand to use the Blade." Crowley says "I can't have you destroying what I've built down there Dean." Dean falls to his side. "I'd say go back to your brother and live to die another day, but he's dead.
"What makes you think I'd care to go back to Sam?" Dean says his breathing becoming labored with effort of keeping himself upright.
"Oh you will..." Crowley says "that's another thing I forgot to mention. The Blade doesn't just kill Demons like you or Abbadon, if done correctly, it can restore you before you die, give it's victim a chance for heaven. Not that heaven is anywhere you'd want to be."
"What do you mean restore?" Dean asks. His hand pressed against his wound, which is suprisingly shallow. Crowley looks down at Dean emotionlessly.
"Oh Dean, I think you know what I mean." Crowley says "In a few moments you'll realize you've killed your moose." Dean says nothing. Dean was dead beneath the Mark, When the Blade has ripped the part of his soul that is blackened, nothing would be left but the old Dean. Sam had been right, there was a piece of his brother left inside. Demon Dean had known it was there, he'd pushed it back, covered it with blood and hedonism. He never imagined he'd be burdened with his humanity once more. His only hope would have to be that the old Dean wouldn't hold on to the end of his life force, that he wouldn't have to feel for too long. Because even in this dark place, demon Dean knew what he would feel from losing Sam at his own hands, would send Dean to the afterlife with such finality that perhaps there would be no relief even there.
Crowley is gone then, Dean is alone laying beside Sam's body, his powers and darkness being pulled like a thread towards the outside of his body through the wound.
It began very deep, nothing more than a pinprick, white hot. Then without warning the pinprick exploded. Dean screams, as his humanity comes surging back. The women he'd been hurting, the men he'd killed, slaughtered... The months spent destroying everything in his path, just because he could. Then there was Sammy. Dean rolls to his side and looks at his brother, laying beside him, blood spread out mingling with his own. Dean holds Sam's face up so he can see it. Sam's face is cold and pale. His eyes wide open, glazed over, pupils miotic, the blood vessels standing out in the whites of his eyes. He'd ultimately suffocated, the blood loss was slower than it should have been, for whatever that's worth.
Dean begins to sob, the pain racking his chest. He touches his forehead to Sam's.
"No, no, no, God no..." The sound of Dean's regret bounces off the concrete walls. Dean lays Sam's head back down on the ground and brushes his fingers across his eyelids, closing them forever. "I'm sorry Sammy." Dean says It's not enough, its not even close to being enough. Nothing he could say would excuse what he'd done. Demon or not, there was a special place in Hell for people like him. Dean could feel death coming, any minute now. Dean lay down beside Sam, waiting. "Thanks for not giving up on me little brother." Despite all the times Dean had died in his life, he was still scared of what was coming. Even if there had been a way to avoid it, he wouldn't have opted for it. Death was preferable to life alone, especially in the knowledge of what he'd done. Dean takes Sam's hand and closes his eyes.