A little tag to MM. I hated seeing Dean in the parking lot. He just looked so… alonesniff

Grand Illusion

This was all so screwed up.

He was so screwed up.

Hell, he was just plain screwed.

Dean thrust his hands into his jean pockets and turned back to the motel room. His mind was on cruise control, trying to grasp the idea that a demon was playing on their team, that they were apparently in way over their heads, and, oh yeah, he was definitely going to burn in hell.

Of course, he'd known that little tidbit for the last nine months or so, and, if push came to shove, he'd probably make the same deal to save his brother again, but it appeared that the whole game of denial he'd been playing with himself was now over.

He. Was. Going. To. Hell.

"There's no way to save me from the pit, is there?"

"No."

He shivered as he reached for the door, Ruby's one word shaking him to the core.

He hadn't realized how much he had been banking on Sam's promise to get him out of the deal. He'd trusted his brother to do whatever he could to save him. He knew Sam would do whatever necessary. But how the hell did he tell his brother that his ace-in-the-hole was nothing more than another demonic lie?

"Why did you tell Sam you could save me?

"Because I needed him to talk to me."

Dean quietly opened the motel room door and let himself in. Keeping his head down, he tossed his jacket on the closest bed and dropped down onto the edge of the mattress, leaning his forearms on his thighs. His head was bowed and he stared at the floor, his eyes not really focusing on the threadbare brown carpeting as he tried to force his mind to think.

He needed to think.

He kind of needed not to think.

What he really needed was a drink.

He figured he was probably in some kind of shock. It's not everyday you finally accept that you are going to die. No matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around that simple fact, ever since that day in Wyoming, he'd been able to trick himself into believing they'd find a way out – some kind of loophole. A part of him had known it was his fate – he'd never been under the delusion that he'd live to see 30. But, a bigger part of him had wanted to believe that after all the crap this life had thrown at him, maybe he had earned a break. Maybe, just maybe, there was some kind of hope for him.

Dean could hear the shower running, the spray of the water echoing in the small bathroom at the back of the room. Sam needed it. He'd been moving pretty stiffly after his little altercation with the demon witch. He'd needed help to merely stand up, and Sam hadn't been able to completely stifle the groans as he'd pulled himself from the Impala when they'd made it back to the motel.

Dean was sure there were a few bruises under his brother's drywall dusted shirt even though the younger man had assured him he was fine. He knew Sam would be sore for a day or two, and hoped a hot shower would help with the discomfort. Dean had offered to go let the motel office know they'd be staying one more night, giving Sam some privacy to clean up and pull himself together.

Something they both needed to do.

He could've done without the heart –to-heart with demon Barbie in the parking lot, though. There were some things he'd really rather not have known.

Like demons were once human.

And that he would, in all probability, eventually become what he hated.

See? Screwed.

The shower turned off, pulling his attention back to the more immediate problem.

He couldn't tell Sam.

Dean was pretty sure his little brother was starting to realize that saving Dean was more of a pipe dream than an actual possibility, but if hanging on to the hope that Ruby had some kind of magic get-out-of-hell-free card up her sleeve would help his brother get through the next few months, then so be it. Dean would do his damndest to make sure that nothing or nobody would shatter that illusion for Sam .

"You're leaving in a few months, right? And if I have to stay here, alone, in this craphole of a world, I have to change."

"Change into what?"

"Into you."

Dean snorted a laugh through his nose, a gentle smile curving his lips as he blinked quickly against the burning behind his eyes.

Sammy wasn't stupid. But he wasn't exactly Einstein now, was he?

Sam changing into him was exactly what Dean had spent his entire life fighting against. He'd taken the brunt of the responsibility for their family as far back as he could remember. He'd shouldered the majority of the crap from Dad, the accountability for keeping Sam fed and safe.

He'd just wanted his brother to be able to be a kid.

He'd done everything his father had ever asked. He'd given Sammy everything he'd ever needed. He'd even stood back and let him leave. Let him go to college, search for the 'normal' life he longed for so much.

Hell, he'd even given up his soul.

For what? So that Sam could become some hardened, screwed up loser like his big brother.

Dean closed his eyes against the moisture that had suddenly replaced the burn. He'd failed. He'd tried so hard to keep his family safe, but now his dad was dead because of him. And his brother was about to lose himself and become something he was never meant to be.

He'd done a bang up job, alright.

Maybe Sam would be better off without him. Maybe the kid would be able to find a way out of this 'craphole' of a world and have a life worth living. Maybe Ruby really did want to help. Maybe… maybe….

"Dean?"

He raised his head as Sam's concerned voice finally broke through, realizing that his brother was now kneeling in front if him, one hand on his knee, his head dipped in an attempt to connect with Dean's eyes.

"Hey," the younger man sighed in relief, a tentative smile on his lips as Dean's eyes focused on his. "I've been trying to get your attention for a couple minutes, man. You okay?"

Dean swallowed hard, not really sure how to answer. He wasn't okay. He was nowhere near okay. He didn't want to lie to his brother, but he didn't want to scare him either. Sam was right – Ruby was right. If Sam was going to make it, he would have to become more like Dean.

Dean laughed silently. Sam had been the one who had never wanted this life. And now he was the one who would have to embrace it to survive. It was really kind of ironic – in a sad, pathetic kind of way.

"I need your help… with Sam. The way you killed that demon – that was pretty tough. Sam's almost there, but I need you to help me get him ready to fight this war alone."

"Dean?"

Dean blinked a few times, finally focusing on his brother's concerned face. Sam's hair hung in wet tendrils against his head, a few drops of water snaking their way down his temple. Dean's mind saw an eight-year-old Sammy, just out of the bath, his hair sticking out in every direction, his still innocent eyes turned up to his big brother, trusting that he had everything under control.

What he wouldn't give to see that kind of innocent trust in those familiar eyes again.

"I'm sorry."

Sam's frown deepened. "For what?"

Dean shook his head and returned his gaze to the floor.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Everything."

Dean could feel the heat of his brother's stare and he knew he needed to pull himself together. Sam needed him strong – now more than ever. Dean had always been there, showing his little brother how to face whatever came along.

Now he needed to show him how to face death.

How the hell was he going to do that?

He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar mask settle on his face. He could keep up the illusion. He'd been doing it all his life.

Shoving his emotions back into the box inside his mind, he turned his eyes to his brother and gave him a lopsided grin. "Get yourself pretty, Samantha. We're hittin' the town."

The End