Sam: 2014

"Sam?" The voice echoed through the bunker, full of unwanted and unwelcome concern.

Sam stared dully at the whiskey bottle on the table in front of him, wondering if his liver was inured to alcohol, the way Dean's always seemed to be. If he drank the whole thing, would it kill him? Put him in the hospital? Do anything at all?

"Sam." Cas moved the bottle away. "What is it?"

"Dean's dead."

Hell, he should have thought of a better way to phrase that. Cas' face went blank with shock, and he crumpled into a chair. "Dead?" he repeated. "Metatron— He said, but I didn't believe— I can still sense—"

"It gets worse." Only a Winchester could ever say that. "I brought him back here. I—I was going to summon Crowley, make him bring Dean back, he deserved that much, but— The Mark—"

Understanding made Cas pale. "It revived him as it did Cain," he whispered. "That— He won't be—"

"His eyes were black. Crowley said— He called him a Knight of Hell."

"Then we have to—"

"What? Kill him?" Even to his ears, the laughter sounded bitter. "It took Dean and the First Blade to kill Abaddon. With the Mark— I don't think anything can take him. I don't think I could even reach him." He poured another glass, drank half of it in a single gulp. He should probably abandon the glass and just drink from the bottle, but this at least slowed him down. The same trick Dean used.

"He reached you when Lucifer had taken over."

"You said it. He reached me. The times the Mark has taken over, I've barely talked him down. Going the other way— It's not what I do, it's not how we work! That was always what Dean did. And now— It's got him, Cas. There's no way to talk him down now. Not that Crowley would let me."

"I can handle Crowley."

Sam looked up at Cas. "You can handle Crowley? You can barely—" Wait. There was something different... "Did you get your grace back?"

Cas gave him a level stare. "Not precisely. There were angels who wished to remain on Earth. Several offered to give me their grace if they were allowed to remain. I—am not what I was. But I am closer than I have been in some time."

"Good. Then you can do it."

"Sam, even a full angel cannot cure the Mark."

"Not that." Sam tossed back the rest of the whiskey to keep himself from stopping to think about what he was about to say. "Time travel. If you did it when we stopped Anna, as wrecked as you were then, you can do it now."

"You know that nothing can be changed."

"Don't give me that destiny crap. This is all my fault, Cas. Everything. Mom died because the demon claimed me. Dad died to save Dean so Dean could save me. Dean went to Hell to bring me back and kick-started the apocalypse, and all the rest of this—"

"Sam, it does not matter how far back you travel. It cannot be changed—"

"I'm the only one who could be Lucifer's vessel, right? All the other kids Azazel tainted— That was just to open the gate and free Lilith. I— Making me one of them was a bonus, right?"

"Yes," Cas said slowly, clearly not following.

"Then there is one thing that will prevent it. All of it. Without me, it can't happen. Ever. Go back and make sure it never happens. Make me never be born. Make me die before Azazel shows up. Just—stop it then."

"Sam, Heaven was as invested in what happened as Hell. It can't be—"

"It's worth a shot!" he shouted. "Hundreds of thousands of people are dead because of me, Cas, and Dean never even had a chance to live! If erasing me from history fixes it, then do it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because everything Dean has ever done has been to keep you alive, and if he found out I went back in time to kill you, he'd—"

"Dean is dead!" Sam shouted. "He's dead and he's become worse than a demon! If it takes me dying to save him, let it happen!"

"Sam," Cas said, gently, and Sam fought the sudden urge to grab the bottle and slam it against the angel's head. "Dean would not want you to do this."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want Dean bringing me back by inviting angels in, either, and we saw how well that worked," Sam spat.

"He did what he thought was necessary."

Yeah, he always did. That was the problem. Dean never stopped to think that he was necessary. "It's just— Cas, he's the one who deserved to be saved. Not me. Not ever me." Shit. The alcohol was making him weepy. Cas was never going to agree with him like this. "All those chances he gave me— He was the one who deserved them. Nobody ever took care of him."

"Sam—" Cas took the bottle away and screwed the lid back on. "This is helping nothing. Go to bed."

"Why? I won't sleep." He wasn't sure he'd ever sleep again. And if he did, by some miracle, manage it, the nightmares would just wake him, that horrible image of Dean's eyes gone demon-black, that uncaring smirk, that promise to kill everybody they'd ever met if Sam came after him—

"Yes. You will." Cas came around the table and pulled Sam out of his chair. "Right now."

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Sam asked. To his surprise, he could still walk without staggering. Maybe Cas was helping on that, sparing a little angelic power to keep him upright.

Cas didn't answer, just got him to his room and watched in that annoying angel way as Sam toppled into his bed. "Bastard," Sam accused, half at Cas, half into his pillow. "If you really cared about him, you'd do it."

"You are drunk."

"Not drunk enough. And as soon as you're gone, I'm—"

"No, you're not." He pressed two fingers against Sam's forehead. "Rest now."

Fucking angels, Sam thought, and was asleep.