A fic born from speculation about the Season finale...Let me know your thoughts!

xxxx

Sam glanced over his shoulder, hearing the slam of a door. He held his breath for a few moments, ready to scoop up his research and cover his tracks with decoy books spread out surrounding his actual work ready and waiting to be flipped open under the pretense of researching a case. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Sam tensed, his hand inching towards the notes spread out across the table, ready to leap into action. He listened to his brother's footsteps, able to imagine the pathway his brother was taking based on the pattern and volume of the steps. He heard Dean stop partway down the hall, presumably to make sure all was well with Sam, and Sam took that as his cue to hide his current research. When Dean saw Sam wasn't in his room, he would inevitably come searching just to make sure everything was alright. The footsteps drew nearer, followed by the opening and closing of a door that Sam guessed was the bathroom. True to his assumption, the door squeaked again a few moments later and soon after that Dean appeared in the doorway, his eyes heavy and his hair disheveled.

"Dude, it's 3 in the morning." Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, "You should be in bed. You should have been in bed hours ago."

"Couldn't sleep. Just doing some research, looking for our next case." Sam replied, motioning to the newspapers that were covering his scattered pages of notes and the open texts that had been prepared to divert attention from some of the more questionable tomes that his older brother would rather he steered clear of.

Dean barely gave the pile of literature a glance as he tilted his head back towards the hallway, "You can research in the morning, geek boy. You will never fall asleep if you aren't in bed, actively trying to."

"I'll go in just a minute." Sam conceded, "I just thought that since I was awake anyway, I should at least be productive."

"Or drunk." Dean suggested, a hint of a grin on his face, "If there's no reason for you to be awake in the middle of the night, the least you could do is be drunk."

"I'll leave that one to you." Sam retorted dryly, pushing his chair back and standing, "I'll go get some water and head to bed."

"Night, Sam." Dean said through a yawn, taking a few steps back towards the hallway, then stopping to add, "Seriously, though, go to bed. You look beat."

Sam agreed, walking towards the kitchen until he was sure Dean had gone back to his own room. Turning around, he quietly walked back to his books and notes, deciding to pack things up and move to his room. If he had thought Dean would wake, he would have stayed in his room to begin with; it was much too risky to be looking at literature that could relate to the Mark where Dean could see, and he desperately wanted to keep Dean far away from the research he knew his brother was firmly against.

Closing his door quietly, though not completely silent in case Dean was listening for proof that Sam had taken his advice to heart, Sam dropped everything onto the bed before flicking on the lamp near his bed. Leaving the overhead light on would make it obvious he had no intention of sleeping, but he could easily play off having the bedside lamp on as his insomnia flaring up.

Thanks to the help begrudgingly given to him by Rowena, Sam had made great strides in decoding The Book of the Damned, now he just had to put the information he had decoded together to figure out how the dried blood, etched into skin, could possibly give information on saving Dean. Even translated, the book's wording was archaic and headache-inducing, and it had taken Sam hours to even figure out how the spellwork, mythology and runes tied together. He sat on his bed, hunched over his notes and trying desperately to ignore the ache in his neck and back, the burning of his eyes as he struggled to push back the fatigue that had been a constant in his life since he had found this lead and started to work through the details of it.

Sam reached into his pocket, retrieving a bottle of ibuprofen and shaking a few into his hand, chasing them down with a sip of the energy drink he had been drinking to help keep his eyes open. The fatigue-induced headaches and gritty eyes were nothing compared to how he would feel if he wasn't able to save his brother, so Sam didn't mind the sleepless nights and achy body; he had to push through it because no one else was there to do it. Dean was fine with letting the leads run cold, Castiel was busy trying to access Metatron once more, leaving Sam alone to decipher what this meant and how he could use it.

The clock continued to tick, and before Sam even realized what time it was, he could hear Dean moving around in the hallway. He quickly rose and shoved the papers he had been working with into a folder, sliding the folder under a book on his desk. Hearing Dean's footsteps getting closer, he flopped down onto his bed, trying to decide what would look like the most natural sleeping position. He rolled onto his stomach, not even bothering with a blanket since he could hear that his brother was right outside of the door. He forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly, even as the door opened and Dean's voice called out his name quietly.

"Sam? Sammy, you awake?"

Sam remained still, and Dean walked closer to the bed, giving his brother's shoulder a very gentle shake, "You want some breakfast, Sam?"

Sam groaned, finding it nearly impossible to open his eyes again now that he had finally let them shut and stayed still for more than just a few minutes. He felt his brother remove his shoes, barely catching Dean's exasperated, "Seriously, Sammy? You can't run yourself into the ground like this."

As Sam succombed to exhaustion, he was vaguely aware of Dean covering him with a blanket. He was pretty sure he'd get a lot of flack about this later, but he was being pulled into unconsciousness, he found it hard to care at all.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken quite a bit harder, his brother's voice once again meeting his ears, "Sam?"

"What?" Sam grumbled, struggling to pull himself out of the haze of sleep and get his bearings on the waking world, "Dean?"

"Sammy, it's after lunch and you're still asleep. Are you sick or something?"

Sam shook his head, blinking tiredly and trying to make sense of his brother's unnecessary concern, "No, I'm fine. I guess the long nights just caught up to me."

Dean's hand was on his forehead faster than Sam could pull away, and he raked the palms of his hands across his face in an attempt to arouse awareness as soon as his face was free from his brother's warm hand, "I'm not sick, Dean."

"You don't feel warm." Dean agreed, "Want some lunch?"

"I want a shower." Sam replied, pushing himself into a sitting position and glancing towards his desk, feeling incredibly guilty that he had spent the last several hours sleeping instead of working and knowing he needed to do something that would fully wake him up. Nothing was as alerting as a hot shower, though as he spoke, his stomach growled, betraying his need for food, "Lunch after?"

"Sure, I'll run out and pick us up something." Dean replied, "You sure you're okay?"

Sam smiled, trying to hide the guilt for keeping secrets from his expression, and affirmed, "I'm great. I just need to finish waking up."

xxx

Sam was trying to hide it, but he was growing irritated by Dean's constant presence. He wanted to do nothing more than finish piecing his information together to cure the Mark; he was so incredibly close to a solution and he was wasting valuable time by indulging in his brother's newfound compulsion to show everyone he was happy and content, regardless of the curse branding his arm.

Sam didn't buy it, and he wouldn't be surprised if Cas and Charlie hadn't bought it either. He knew Dean better than he knew himself at times; it was painfully clear that this version of his brother was an exaggerated, projecting version that was wearing a joyous mask to ease the worry of everyone around him. There was no way that Dean could be this upbeat and normal after everything that had happened. Dean wasn't this friendly and welcoming on his best of days, much less when he was dealing with something of this magnitude. It was physically painful for Sam to watch and it left a sour taste in his mouth; he knew Dean didn't do chick-flick moments, but if they were at least addressing the issue, Sam could try to share some of the information he had been able to decode already and bounce some ideas off of the man he had idolized for the last 32 years.

"Come on, Sammy, the cinema is having a James Bond marathon." Dean said suddenly, shutting the screen of the laptop with a click and grabbing his keys from the table, "If we head out now, we'll be able to catch 'Goldfinger', you know that one's my favorite."

"Only because there's a character named Pussy Galore." Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes, though he did give his brother a genuine smile. It was such a typical Dean thought process, and while Sam was certain Dean's recent behavior was all for show, he was still reminded of a younger, less hardened version of his brother and he couldn't deny he missed the days when their lives were less complicated.

"It's a classic!" Dean argued, though the grin on his face showed Sam's assessment was at least partially correct, "After the movie, we'll try out the new barbeque place. It'll be fun."

Unfortunately for Sam's research, the younger man couldn't deny Dean's requests when he was offering to go out and do something so normal, even if he thought Dean's recent attitude shift was a facade. He had wanted to spend down time with Dean for ages; the last time they had hung out and spent the whole day together relaxing without work or personal troubles front and center had literally been years ago. They were doing things that they had always said they should do, but never actually got around to doing because every time they tried, something came up that was more important.

The day had started out with lunch, since Sam had spent the morning finally catching up on some sleep, but Dean had suggested laser tag with such childlike enthusiasm that Sam couldn't turn him down. After Dean had thoroughly kicked his ass at the local laser tag place, they had gone out for a game of miniature golf and then picked up the Die Hard DVD set and watched the first movie while drinking beer and tossing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it in their mouths. They had both seen the first 'Die Hard' movie a dozen or more times, and when Dean started saying lines in unison with John McClane it had quickly morphed into a contest to see who could recite more lines the most obnoxiously. After the movie, Dean had convinced Sam to go for a swim in the lake near the bunker, and then had made the two of them giant ice cream sundaes while Sam had taken a shower after they returned home.

When Sam factored in another movie and dinner, he was pretty sure they hadn't had this much quality bonding time since he had been a teenager. Even if Dean had been faking the majority of his enthusiasm over life, hunting and family lately, there was no denying that Dean had also let himself relax quite a bit throughout the days and not all smiles and laughs were forced or amplified for his behalf. Perhaps if they had more days like this, things wouldn't get as bad between them as they sometimes tended to get.

He stood, stretching slightly and following Dean to the door, warning, "If you insist on getting some sort of potent chili dog with onions at the movies, you're going to have to walk home."

"Okay, I'll make it triple onions then." Dean grinned, "Maybe some jalapenos too."

"How have you not had a massive heart attack yet?" Sam retorted, easily falling into the same conversation they'd been having over the junk his brother liked to inhale for the last decade.

Dean smirked, seamlessly responding with, "My heart just isn't as delicate as yours, Sammy. I've got the constitution of a real man."

"I'll remember that when you're in your double bypass surgery."

"What's the point of living if you're not getting to experience the pleasures of amazing food?"

xxxx

Sam sat on his bed, his heart racing as he stared at the paper he'd been jotting notes down on for several hours now. After the movie, he and Dean had gone out to eat and then had stopped by Dean's favorite bar. In true Dean fashion, within two hours he had met a girl and they were heading back to her place, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to make some progress on the Book without fear of interruption.

And it looked like his hard work had paid off.

His hands trembled slightly as he re-read the deciphered page, now knowing what had to be done. The spell was powerful enough to remove even the most complex curses and damnations, to "erase the structure which binds the sin to the sinner" and to "release the prisoner from the weight of their sins". Surely this would be enough to remove the Mark of Cain; Dean wasn't a prisoner in the traditional form of jails and cells, but he certainly was being confined and damned by the mark on his arm. He had done it; he had found a cure. He felt lightheaded, the room fading out for a few seconds as the reality of the situation really sunk in. He had found it. he was going to fix his brother. He was going to remove the Mark.

Heart fluttering rapidly in a mixture of apprehension, relief, shock and excitement, Sam read through the list of what was needed for the spell, then copied it to a fresh sheet of paper to take with him on his search for supplies throughout the bunker. With any luck, he could gather materials, memorize the incantation and finish this tonight.

Dean was going to be furious that Sam had been looking into this behind his back, after Dean had made himself clear that he didn't want Sam anywhere near the Book of the Damned, didn't want Sam even thinking about the Mark or a cure. But when the Mark was gone, Sam was sure his older brother would be grateful; how could he not be? It was no secret that Dean hated having the Mark, what the Mark represented and the things it had compelled him to do.

Not that he planned on discussing it in depth with Dean, Sam also knew that the Mark of Cain was dangerous not only for Dean but also for himself. He was familiar with the story of Cain and Abel, he knew what had been done to earn Cain the mark to begin with, and that ultimately that tale would replay itself between himself and Dean; he'd be naive not to have considered it in great detail, seeing as how their lives had a tendency to attract and encompass the worst case scenarios at any given point in time. The Winchester line was cursed, and Sam had no doubt that Dean would feel relief if the Mark was gone, if not for the freedom from the curse that had turned him into a demon, then for the safety of Sam, seeing as how that had been a top priority for the older brother for most of his life.

He had gathered the herbs and even managed to find the bone pieces required for the spellwork and had hidden them underneath his bed, sliding the lock closed on his door while he began to prepare the altar. He definitely didn't want Dean to come home, even though logically it was much too early for him to do so, and discover what he was doing. This was one instance where it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission, despite how many times that particular sentiment had blown up in his face over the years. He just couldn't risk anything going wrong, not when he was so close.

The last thing on his list was blood. It didn't have to be Dean's blood, just the blood of someone in their bloodline, which made it infinitely easier to obtain. During the trials, his blood had been purified. He could shed his own without worrying about the traces of demon blood that he had been fed as a baby and then grown addicted to as an adult, because now he was pure, his blood was as clean as Dean's, and he didn't mind shedding some if it meant that he could save Dean. After all, Dean had sacrificed his soul at one point to save Sam's life, and Sam was more than willing to do whatever it took to remove this from his big brother, even if it cost him his life.

It took two hours of painstaking precision, but finally Sam had finished assembling everything necessary to complete the spell. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a moment, then exhaled. It was getting late, if Dean planned on returning to the bunker tonight it would likely happen soon. Sam was careful to hide his supplies, not only to keep his secret hidden but also to keep everything together and safe, he only had one chance to do this, some of the ingredients needed for the spell were hard to come by and he was using the only one he had available. He would wait for Dean to return home, he didn't want his brother to be far when the spell took place, just in case something went wrong or in case it was a dramatic transformation. There was never too much caution when it came to this type of work.

Sam sat on his bed, carefully copying the incantation from his notes to a fresh sheet of paper so he could begin to memorize it. He planned on keeping the paper handy to read off of, in an effort to make sure it was executed flawlessly since enunciation and precision were often key factors in success, but sometimes things didn't work out as he pictured in his mind, so having it committed to memory only further prepared him for success.

Another hour passed before he was able to recite the lengthy incantation from memory alone, and once he was certain he would be able to retain the knowledge he stood and exited his room, getting some water from the kitchen before sitting down in view of the doorway and preparing his vigil. Dean would return home, Sam would send him to bed, and hopefully Dean would wake a changed man.

By the time Dean arrived home, two hours later, Sam was starting to doze off in the chair, though he snapped to alertness once he heard the door opening.

"Still up, Sammy?" Dean asked, concern clear on his face, "You okay?"

Sam shrugged, trying not to let the emotions about what he was planning bubble to the surface and show on his face, "I figured you'd be back soon and wanted to make sure you made it in safe."

"You never wait up for me." Dean replied suspiciously, "Seriously, man, what's wrong? I thought we were past keeping secrets from each other."

If he didn't have plans that he was ready to act on, Sam would have scoffed and commented about Dean pretending to be fine when everyone knew he couldn't possibly be, but he didn't have time to argue with his brother, he had a spell to perform. Instead, he said lightly, "I never had to wait up for you; for 90% of our lives we shared a hotel room. I woke up when you got home regardless, there was no need to stay up. I'm still not used to not knowing when you get in."

Dean's expression softened quite a bit, and he gave a genuine smile for a split second before jumping into something he felt more comfortable with over feelings talks, and sarcastically teased, "Is it that time of the month, Samantha? You're feeling a little lonely?"

"Shut up, jerk." Sam replied with an expression that he knew Dean would be classifying as his bitchface.

"Stop being a girl then, bitch." Dean retorted with a smirk, "I don't know about you, Sam, but I'm beat. I'm going to hit the shower and then get some shut eye. In the morning we can talk about that case you were researching the other night, every day can't be a vacation day."

"Sounds great." Sam replied, standing and stretching his back slightly to relieve the achiness that came from sitting for too long, "I think I'll hit the sack too."

They walked shoulder to shoulder down the hallway in silence, never needing much words to convey a conversation.

You sure you're okay?

I'm fine. You?

I'm fine too. Just worried about you.

Me too. You've got to stop doing this to yourself.

Only when you do the same.

Get some sleep, we'll make it through this.

You too.

Sam sat on his bed, his door opened slightly so he could hear when Dean finished with his shower and went to bed. He was nervous, his hands slightly damp with sweat and his heart pounding wildly. This had to work, if it didn't, he was completely out of options. He couldn't fail Dean, not this time. He had failed to save Dean from the demon deal many years ago, he had failed to listen to his brother and that had ultimately led to Lucifer being freed. He failed to search out Dean in Purgatory, he had failed to finish the trials and shut the gates of hell forever. He couldn't fail now, he had to make this work. He needed his brother, all of his brother without the influence of the Mark, without the bitterness and needed things to be like they were before, and the only way to do that was to show his worth and how much he cared for his brother, to bring his brother back from the darkness and remind him how valuable he was and how much he was needed. This had to work, failure was not an option.

He was still in the quiet room, eyes closed but listening closely. He heard Dean exit the bathroom, then Sam heard his own door creaking slightly as Dean looked in on him. Aparently the illusion of sleep was successful, because he felt Dean's presence linger for a few moments before the door shut and Dean's footsteps trailed down the hall. Waiting to hear Dean's door close, Sam sat up and quietly crept to the light, flicking on the switch and glancing at his watch. He would given Dean 20 minutes to fall asleep, and then he'd begin.

The spell itself was easy. Sam had mixed the herbs and crushed the bones, then drizzled a full cup of his own blood over the mixture before lighting a match and saying the incantation. The latin flowed easily off his tongue, and he tensed, waiting for something bad to happen; inevitably, spellwork like this wasn't quiet or peaceful, usually there was wind, howling, screaming, flickering lights, something that screamed at them that they needed to turn back.

But there was absolutely nothing, only silence.

Nearly two full minutes after the incantation was complete, Sam still knelt in front of the small altar, his breathing shallow and quiet as he waited for the other shoe to drop. He was afraid to get up and check on Dean, not wanting to miss if anything obvious or bad did occur. His stomach was in knots with barely controlled anxiety, and just when he was able to give up and see if he had been successful, the ground started to shake beneath him. The altar fell, the remainder of the bloody herbs spilling onto the floor, books falling off of the shelf.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice called from the hallway, heavy with worry and a tinge of panic, "Sam!"

"Dean?" Sam called back, his voice much more hoarse than he had expected, clouded with emotion. He quickly pushed what he could out of sight and met Dean in the doorway as the shaking stopped as abruptly as it began.

Dean's eyes were wide as he asked, "A freaking earthquake? Here?!"

Sam didn't waste time correcting his brother, instead he grabbed Dean's sleeve and pushed it up, revealing perfectly smooth skin. He let go, woozy and lightheaded. It worked. He stumbled back a few steps until he was against his desk, not sure if he would be able to support his weight if he wasn't holding on to something. He couldn't believe the Mark was gone. He couldn't believe he had been successful.

"What did you do!?" Dean shouted, a range of emotions passing over his face from fear to anger, relief to worry, "Sam! What did you do!?"

Sam shook his head, unable to find words, still in shock that his plan had actually taken the Mark off. Before he realized what was happening, Dean had grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him against the wall, shouting at him to answer his questions. Shakily, Sam replied, "I..I found a spell. In a book."

"In a book? What book?" Dean demanded, "We read through every book in this whole damn building! Tell me the truth!"

Sam pushed Dean back, hesitantly answering the question with the full truth, knowing if he lied, Dean would catch him, "I didn't burn the book at the cabin. I saved it. Did some research, decoded it. I found a spell that would remove the Mark and set you free."

"You...what?!" Dean shouted again, taking a few steps away from his brother and putting his hands to his head, "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Why didn't you tell me? Anything could have happened!"

"But it worked-"

Their conversation was stopped by a flapping sound and the sudden appearance of Castiel, his expression somber.

"We're kind of in the middle of something right now-" Dean started, just as Sam asked, "What's wrong?"

"The cage has been opened. Lucifer has risen again."

To be continued….

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