NOTE: I posted a different version of this once before, took it down, then changed my mind again about posting it. It's mostly done at this point, and I'll post a new chapter every week or so. This is the shortest one- it's more of a teaser.
Fair warning: this is a sad one! I really just couldn't shake the idea of what would happen if Dean did die. Dean has always been a buffer between Sam and John, and I wanted to see how they'd handle 1) Dean's death and 2) having to be deal with being alone together on top of that.
Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!
I mean, come on you can't, you can't leave me here alone with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that.
-Sam, "In My Time of Dying"
Azazel said no. Or rather, more specifically, Azazel said, "Why should I give you Dean? I don't want the gun that much. I don't even want your soul that much." And when John had stared at him flatly, uncomprehending, he'd added, "No, John, I want you to suffer. I want you to live with knowing that you let your own son die just for the chance to get me here. And he will die, John."
John looked into his yellow eyes, and saw only that he was telling the truth. He pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit Azazel squarely between the eyes and he fell, the demonic energy sparking and sizzling as he crumpled unceremoniously to the ground. It was all John had wanted for more than twenty years. Now, he just felt hollow, like someone had gone and scooped out everything that made him human.
Dean was going to die. And it would be his fault.
He limped up the stairs, shoulder aching, bullet wound in his leg searing with each step, and wondered how on earth he'd explain this to Sam.
XxXxX
Dean died at 10:31am. His body had seized and started shaking, and the doctors and nurses had tried everything, apparently, or so they'd told Sam when he'd grabbed one nurse and demanded—demanded—that they do more. When it was obvious there really was nothing else anyone could do, Sam grabbed Dean's limp hand and said his name over and over again. Dean had been there. In the hospital. Hunting the reaper. Maybe if he heard Sam, he'd come back.
He didn't.
Sam swallowed his tears, and the irrational fear—what if Dean did come back to his body, some miraculous recovery, and he wasn't there?—and went to John's room to break the horrible news. Someone had to tell their dad, and he didn't want it to be some random nurse.
John wasn't there. Neither were the summoning supplies.
He turned around and went back to Dean. The anger inside of him burned so cold he could barely remember having ever felt anything else. Dean was dead, and Dad didn't know because he'd been summoning the god damn demon. Dean was dead and Dad had missed it.
Sam was crying, but he was barely aware.
XxXxX
When the reaper gave him a choice, it took Dean about half a second to answer. No. He wasn't going with her. Not while his family was still down here. He couldn't leave. Sam and his dad were going to tear each other apart.
Tessa, or whatever her name really was, nodded and left him alone.
He went back to Sam, just in time to watch his little brother stand shocked in the door of the little room as Dean's body bucked and heaved and then went still. Dean glanced down at himself, at the hospital scrubs he'd apparently be spending eternity in, and wished he'd died in his jeans at least. He didn't feel any different.
He followed Sam to their dad's room and back, as chilled as he was by the pure ire in Sam's face as he was disappointed that John wasn't there. He sat on the edge of the bed where his body lay while Sam cried—silent tears that ran down his face and dripped off his chin—and spoke to Dean. Told him how sorry he was. How he missed him already. How he loved him.
John limped in a few minutes later. He stopped, taking in the scene, then asked in a voice that didn't betray nearly the emotion Dean might've hoped for, considering it was his own son's damn dead body lying on the bed, "Sam?"
Sam got up slowly, and turned, and said in a deceptively calm voice, "He's dead. You missed it."
"I killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon," John said.
Dean expected Sam to punch him. But Sam just stood in icy silence, then turned back to Dean's body. "Good for you."