Disclaimer—Characters belong to Eric Kripke. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Notes—Thanks to my big brother for keeping me on the right path during my troubling time. Thanks to FakePsychic and PenKnight for the betas.
Spoilers—Post Ep for When the Levee Breaks
Feedback—Always greatly appreciated.
Eve of Destruction—The end of the world was on the horizon and Dean wasn't sure how Sam would fare when the trumpets sounded.
It may have started as hero worship. The music. The car. The leather jacket. The job. But, over time, it became ingrained. It became a part of him. His identity. His trademark. The cocky swagger. The attitude. The fearlessness.
It may have continued in the loyalty, the faithfulness to the mission. Saving people. Hunting things. The following of orders without question, without doubt.
But, he wasn't just a carbon copy of his father. There were parts of Dean that weren't John. The most important part was the role of peacemaker, his desire to keep the warring factions of his father and brother in their respective corners.
He learned how to apply that to other aspects of his life. He internalized it when John was singularly focusing on finding the yellow-eyed demon. It allowed Dean to continue on, to balance his desire for revenge with the necessary patience to do the job right. He understood there was strategy to consider. There were variables to weigh.
That was what made him different, special. John and Sam often saw only the goal. The means to that end weren't as important as getting the desired result. Dean wasn't immune to the occasional bout of tunnel vision, but he learned how to rail against it. He learned that wasn't the way to go. He learned that wasn't what he could consciously live with.
He learned that wasn't him, which was why it hurt so much more than physically as he lay in the broken debris on the hotel room floor.
Sam was blinded by what he thought was right. It didn't help matters that he'd chosen to side with a demon. Demons were notorious for lying, for cheating. Ruby had proven herself to be useful on occasion, but she'd also proven herself to be an opportunist. Someone who didn't deserve to be trusted.
She'd helped Sam in his self-deception. She'd led him so willingly down the dark path.
The words Dean had said as Sam left, he wasn't particularly proud of. They were the same ones John had yelled when Sam said he wanted to go to Stanford. They were the same ones Dean had tried to stop his father from saying so many years ago.
John had felt betrayed then.
Dean felt betrayed now.
The end of the world was on the horizon and Dean wasn't sure how Sam would fare when the trumpets sounded. Dean had done everything—even sold his soul—to keep his little brother from death. His sacrifice, his time in Hell, had all been for nothing. Sam had opted out of what Dean knew to be morally, rationally right.
He knew Sam better than anyone. He knew that Sam knew better than what he was doing, what he was participating in. He knew that someday soon Sam would regret this. When he came to his senses, when he realized what he'd done was wrong, Sam's guilt would be overwhelming. Not because he'd attacked his own brother, but because he'd cast his lot with the wrong side. He'd chosen incorrectly.
As Dean slowly got to his feet, he hoped—and prayed—that the day would come sooner rather than later, that he'd at least planted the seeds of doubt in Sam's head.
That he'd go back to being Sam before he became more of a monster.
That Dean wouldn't have to execute his father's final order.
End.