Author: Rinne
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Anything aired, probably (other than 2.20).
Warnings: Darkfic, read the summary and notes
Summary: Evil wins the war; what does Sam do with Dean during the war?
A/N: For lunardreamed who left me a fic I wouldn't write: "Evil wins the war, what does Sam do with Dean (without killing him) and how does Dean deal (without becoming evil) or what does Sam do with him during the war?"
"You know, you only have yourself to blame, really. One simple bullet and none of this would ever have happened. One knife through the heart, one pillow over my face in my sleep. Daddy would be so disappointed in you, Dean."
Dean breathed heavily through the gag, pulling away from the hand that had gently touched his cheek. A hand stained with his blood, spilled from shallow cuts on his chest. Cuts that hurt like a bitch. Cuts that his brother…that Sam had inflicted on him.
"You've failed." Sam's voice was right beside his ear, his breath hot against Dean's face smelling of mint, smelling of Sam, not the monster standing next to him. "How does it feel to be the reason that human civilisation will fall? Hmmm?" Sam whirled around and away, smiling. "I mean, gosh, Dean, you've doomed your entire planet." He held up a finger. "One stupid little man to doom an entire planet, that's all it takes. And you're that pathetic little man who didn't have the balls to do what it takes."
Sam tilted his head to the side. "Not that I'm complaining, you know. I mean, obviously, I don't want to die, didn't want to die even though I knew that this would happen." He laughed and looked at Dean side on. "I guess I had faith in you, that you wouldn't let this happen to me. After all, you said that if it's the last thing you'd do, you'd save me."
He picked up the knife – Dean's knife – and tossed it into the air, catching it blade down. "I could kill you, you know." Toss, catch. "Slit your throat as easy as that." Toss, catch. "Watch the light go out of your eyes as I crush your windpipe." Toss, catch. "And there's nothing that you can do to stop me."
Dean struggled against the rope, the gag, rebellious tears snaking down his cheeks.
"Don't cry, Dean." Sam was in his face again, gentle fingers rubbing away the wetness, leaving red streaks on his cheeks, making Dean shake harder. "I'll let you in on a secret." He bent until his lips were beside Dean's ears. "I'm not going to kill you," Sam whispered, "but you'll wish I had."
Sam stopped and looked at Dean's face, Dean's shaking head. "Yes." Sam nodded. "You're going to watch everyone that you've ever cared about die by your own hand. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Cassie…Everyone." Sam stood up and turned around in a circle, his hands up, the knife shining dully red. "The world is going to burn and you'll be standing by my side watching it, screaming to die – and nobody will hear."
He knelt in front of Dean, his movements measured. Sam put the knife to Dean's chest and cut the cord. The charms fell to his lap as Dean looked on in horror, realisation dawning.
"Bye bye, Dean."
Dean's head rocked back, his body sucked in a deep breath and his eyes turned black.
Sam's mouth twisted into a smile. "Hello, brother."