Broken

"Man, there is something broken in you," his past self had said, the words now spinning in an endless loop inside of his mind. That long-forgotten part of him had no idea how right he was. Piece by piece, he had been eroded, destroyed by a sequence of events that were far beyond his control but no less his fault because of that.

Ever since the Croatoan virus had reappeared, he had been tumbling into an endless chasm of emotional and physical trauma that was so close to hell that he now had trouble distinguishing between the two. In such a short amount of time, he had lost everything that had once mattered to him. The world that he had always viewed as damaged and fractured had splintered completely, piercing his flesh and soul with the shattered pieces, many of which were still left in their place inside of him.

He remembered Bobby, his eyes black as he ran at inhuman speed towards Dean with a knife, ready to infect the boy that he had always loved as a son. In that moment of blind panic, his mind flashed back to every happy moment that they had ever shared. Bobby had always been there for him, from the age of six until the very end. He'd taught Dean to play catch, let him drink his first beer, and laughed when he chased any girl that would stand still but Bobby was no longer the same person who had saved him countless times. He was no longer a friend or a father, now he was a monster who would infect and therefore destroy them all.

How many monsters had he killed in his life? One hundred, two, two-fifty? What did it matter that this monster used to be a part of his family? It was the apocalypse and time for such sentimentality was long gone. Friendship was an insignificant weight that would get them all killed if they let it, and he was not going to allow himself or his ragtag group of survivors to go down without a fight.

Dean waved the others away from him, knowing that he'd never forgive them or himself if one of them took the man out, because there was only so much that he could endure. It was he who fired the shot that caught Bobby in the head. He saw the light fade out of those eyes and watched him twitch in place, reaching limply for the knife until finally, he was gone.

The older hunter did not mourn aloud. He never said so much as word. Not for Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Cassie, Lisa, or Ben. He was forced to destroy them all, the undisputed leader of this ramshackle group of rebels who were fighting for the human side in a losing war. Every day, he was forced to wrap himself in a cloak of delusions, pretending that he wasn't hurting and that his heart hadn't been reduced to so many pieces that had long since been scattered on the wind. But even then some small elements of the original Dean remained, the hunter, the lover of his car, of women, and of his remaining family.

And that was the final straw that sealed the fearless leader's fate. He remembered the erratic pound of his heart as he ran through the whole of Detroit, hoping and even praying that he could stop it. Sadly, he was too late. The world around him was engulfed in a blinding, white light. All was silent except for the loud, terrifying screech of victory that filled the air and when the light had finally dulled, all that one could see was the clear outline of a large, broad man.

The man turned, an evil smile spreading across his face, Sam, Dean's brother's face, with darkened eyes that reflected the evil that was now inside. His head flew back and he laughed, a soul-shattering laugh, because he had finally obtained his true vessel and was now nearly unstoppable.

Meanwhile, Dean stood in frozen disbelief. His brother had accepted, had become the vessel to the supreme evil that they had been fighting in one way or another for years. Why? What would make him do it after they had promised each other so long ago not to? "Nooo!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face for the first time in years.

For the first time in his entire life, he felt truly alone with the knowledge that Sam no longer existed anywhere in the world. It was worse than his stint at Stanford or any of the other times that he struck out on his own. For all intents and purposes, he was gone, obliterated by one simple word. By one simple yes.

"C'mon Dean. We have to get out of here," Castiel murmured, pulling the man behind him. Dean numbly followed the fallen angel, not caring whether he lived or died anymore. There was no point to his existence if Sam was no longer really alive. His entire life had circled protecting and loving Sammy, and through it all, he had ultimately failed the person that he loved the most.

Those next few nights were horrible nightmares, full of black eyes, demons, and his brother who no longer existed. He saw horrible images and heard the agonizing screams of people dying at his brother's hands. And then he saw his brother with blood covering his tall body and a dead smile lingering on his lips. When he woke up, Dean was panting, covered in a thick sheen of sweat.

After a week of intense grieving, he rose from his bed with new resolve, to kill his brother, to destroy the devil and end the apocalypse. After that , he didn't care what happened to him. He threw himself into a series of actions, doing in order to wash clear the sins that clouded his heart. His only reprieve was the thought that, perhaps if he was lucky, he would die in the final battle and not have to deal with the ultimate loss of his Sammy. So, yes, he had been broken by a series of events that would be too much for any man, but he had the need to always try to save them even though it was too late to change anything.

"You just wait five years, and then talk to me about being broken," Future Dean hissed.

"I'll never be you," he promised himself. He still refused to let himself become this type of heartless monster. He couldn't be this man who killed in cold blood as easily as breathing and who would sacrifice his friends and family at the drop of a hat. He wouldn't be this man.

Future Dean smiled slightly, remembering when he was that confident in his own abilities, that sure of himself. It had been a long time ago, in a different time and different place where some form of hope still resided. "I said the same thing," he murmured. "You'd be surprised at how quickly things change."

"Not that much."

He shook his head sadly, his heart full of all of the things that he had done and all of the blood that now stained his hands. "You'd be surprised."

A/N:

Whoo-hoo! Here's yet another Supernatural story down (If you haven't figured it out, I'm kind of obsessed right now)! I've been cranking them out lately. Seriously, you should see my notebook. Soooo many Supernatural stories. Well, anyway, I hope you at least kind of liked it.

Anyway, thanks for reading all of this long note. Tell me what you think about the story (and Dean Winchester {because I love him})! Remember, reviews feed me and I'm not afraid of the flames.

Remember: Reviews= happy camper. Happy camper= quicker updates. Quicker updates= you reading more. It's a cycle keep it going!

Yours truly, madly, and deeply,

Einstinette