The Right Choice
K Hanna Korossy
"I just wanted to say that Cas told me what you're doing for Dean. And I'm not asking you to stop, but maybe going behind his back ain't the best idea. Your brother, he can be stubborn. But I think he'd understand. And I know it's the life…doing a little bad so you can do a lot of good. But sometimes the bad's real bad, and the good…it can come at one hell of a price. I ain't there on the ground, and whatever you do, I know you'll make the right choice. You're a good man, Sam Winchester, one of the best. And I'm damn proud of you, son. I was content up here. But getting the call from you, it's the happiest I've been in forever, no matter what it costs. So stay safe, keep fighting, and kick it in the ass." - Bobby's letter to Sam in Inside Man
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"I think I just killed Death." Dean's wry tone didn't hide how stunned he was. Then his eyes grew pained as they met the ones he'd almost shut permanently. "Sammy…"
Sam didn't hesitate, swooping in to hug his big brother. "Wasn't. You." He released him and backed up just one step. "You're not evil. And the world isn't better off without you, Dean. I'm not better off without you."
But Dean wasn't one to let himself off easy. "What I said before, about you and Charlie, about killing you—"
"That was the Mark," Sam said patiently, heart still thumping with joy. "And you beat it back." He glanced at the scythe sitting in the pile of dust that had been Death. "You just proved that." Then he looked at his brother again. Sam's feelings were still raw and probably plastered all over his face, but that was fine with him. "We will find a way, man."
Dean was clearly struggling: to believe it, to not think about the what-ifs. But what he did was turn away to the duffel he had sitting on the bench beside him. "Let's get you cleaned up."
The whistle began soft, turning quickly into an unearthly shriek. White light shot through the ceiling, striking Dean. No, his arm.
And in seconds, the Mark was gone.
Sam's brain stalled yet again in this afternoon of mind-breaking pivots.
The Mark was gone. Death's work? No, Sam abruptly realized. The cure.
Dean raised shell-shocked eyes to his as they traded looks of disbelief and then growing joy.
"What…?" Dean finally stammered.
"Rowena figured out the spell." Sam's words rushed out with relief and a huge smile. "It has to be."
"I thought you…"
Shut it down, Sam knew he was going to say, because he'd promised, and Dean still hadn't forgiven him for the previous lies. But even as Sam tried to mount a defense, Dean grew quiet for a moment, rubbing over the smooth skin of his forearm with something like wonder.
"I get it," he said at last. The secrets, the desperation, the sacrifice: it was something they'd both gone through for each other in the past, and the fact Dean finally got that, could feel it, was further proof Sam's brother was himself again. He looked up at Sam, eyes warm and clear. "I knew you weren't just gonna let me go."
Another absolution. Sam's head felt light. He'd said those words in anger—I wouldn't do anything to save you—and Dean had thrown them back at him a few weeks before. Apparently, that had been the Mark, too.
Sam was further amazed to see the evidence of the release from the curse, the deep lines of Dean's face softening, the battle-ready tension of the last months easing in his frame, even the green of his eyes lightening. Oddly enough, for the first time, Sam truly felt what a weight the Mark had been.
Dean shook his head and took a breath. "C'mere," he said, and went back to pulling gauze and alcohol out of his bag.
His injuries weren't severe, and Sam could certainly have cleaned them up himself. But Dean needed to make right what he'd done and, truth be told, it felt embarrassingly good for Sam to be under his brother's care again. He sat obediently and let himself be tended by the same hands that had been mercilessly violent minutes before. Sam finally acknowledged the hot tears in his own eyes.
Dean cleaned and disinfected, then patted Sam's shoulder, holding on an extra few seconds. Then he cleared his throat. "Let's get out of here."
Sam looked back to see Dean staring at the remains of Death. It wouldn't have shocked him if Dean was mourning a little: Dean and the Horseman had had some strange bond Sam didn't even begin to understand. But as he considered saying something, Dean was moving again, grabbing his stuff and pushing Sam toward the door.
A minute later, the Darkness was unleashed and a whole new threat and challenge loomed over them. But Sam's relief didn't diminish, and he never for a moment regretted his choice.
The End