In The End, It Doesn't Even Matter

Dean stared down at his past self he had just punched, unconscious on the forest floor.

Sorry, Dean, he thought. But I don't have a choice.

Dean turned towards Castiel, Risa and his other lieutenants.

"Alright, we good to go?" asked Dean, heading back to his station.

Risa looked behind them. "Where's the other you?"

Dean looked back at them. "He's backup."

"Backup?" asked Castiel.

"You said it yourself, he's me," explained Dean. "Anything happens to him, and I die."

"But you said you wanted him to come," said Risa.

Dean looked back at her, daring her to object. "He's fine where he is."

"Fine," said Risa.

Dean looked up at the building, looking through the binoculars. "Alright. Go."

"What about you?" asked Castiel.

"I'll cover you," said Dean, voice a stern command. "Go."

Trusting their fearless leader, Castiel and the others charged towards the warehouse, trying to sneak their way into the building with guns a-blazing. Dean closed his eyes in guilt.

I'm sorry.

Dean jumped up, making his way around to the back of the building, passing his unconscious past self on the way. He noticed his jaw was beginning to swell just a little from the punch.

I'll bet that hurts in the morning.

Dean crept around the building, approaching the garden in the back. He took shelter at the corner of the building, staring into the garden. He searched for any sign that Lucifer was there. And, suddenly, he was. Lucifer walked past a rose bush in the middle of the garden, wearing a white suit that made his little brother look ridiculous. Dean closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to vomit. He could not really believe what he was about to do. He had no choice, but he still did not know how he was going to shoot his brother. Sam looked completely out of place and awkward as Lucifer used his body to stroll around the place like he owned it. Which, in his twisted opinion, he did.

Dean took a deep, silent breath and stalked forward, keeping his footsteps silent and unheeded. Lucifer was busy with his precious rose bush, and Dean got within five feet of him as he raised the Colt and aimed it at the devil's head.

I'm sorry, Sammy.

Dean pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit Lucifer right in the back of the head. Sam's body crumpled to the ground, eyes closed, mouth open and blood dripping down his neck. Dean slowly lowered the Colt, feeling all the bile rush in the direction of his mouth. His vision began to swim as he stared at his brother's lifeless, cold, abused corpse. Just as he was about to collapse to his knees from the shock, Sam suddenly gasped and sat up. Dean's eyes widened as Sam looked up at him.

The angels saved him? Dean thought. He's back?

"Ow…" said Sam. Dean was about to make a crack about how a bullet to head should have been more than 'ow,' when Sam's eyes lighted on the Colt still in Dean's hand. "Where did you get that?"

As Sam stood up and put a hand to the bullet wound still in the back of his head, Dean's stomach fell back into the black hole that had formed over the last ten minutes. Sam brought his hand away from the back of his head, hand free of blood and head free of wound, and Dean realized exactly what was happening. Sam still wasn't Sam, the angels hadn't brought him back, the apocalypse wasn't over, and Lucifer wasn't dead…Lucifer was still in Sam. The Colt hadn't worked…not one little bit.

"Don't feel too bad, Dean," said Lucifer with a smile that didn't belong on Sam's face. "There's only five things in creation that that gun won't kill, and I just happen to be one of them."

Dean watched Lucifer with newfound fear. If the Colt can't kill him, what can?

Lucifer reached a hand out to Dean's shoulder, but Dean moved his shoulder away from Lucifer, unwilling to let Lucifer touch him…even if it was in his brother's body. Lucifer brought his hand slowly away, smiling sadly.

"You know, I like you, Dean," said Lucifer. "Always thinking of new ideas…too bad they don't always work."

"Screw you," spat Dean.

Lucifer looked down at the ground and back up at Dean. "I would love to stand here and trade obscenities…but I have a world to get back to. If you'll excuse me…"

The way Lucifer just asked for Dean to excuse him so politely pushed Dean to the last straw. He'd been through hell…quite literally…and he just couldn't take it anymore. He'd spent five years looking for the Colt and a way to kill the devil, and he'd spent longer than that being screwed over by angels and demons and the whole world. He was completely out of options and couldn't see any way to get past this.

In one last desperate attempt at redemption, Dean charged at Lucifer, swinging a punch to his face. The punch barely phased the devil, broke a couple of bones in Dean's hand more than anything, but it made Dean feel better. At least he wasn't giving up…at least he wasn't letting Lucifer win. Dean swung his other arm to punch Lucifer, but Lucifer caught the fist and twisted the arm back behind Dean. Dean spun around as his shoulder dislocated, and Lucifer let his arm go. Dean fell to the ground in pain. He turned onto his back as Lucifer brought his foot down.

Lucifer pressed his snazzy white loafer into Dean's throat, crushing his windpipe. Dean never thought a cheap-ass shoe could pack such a punch…or kick, as the case may be. Dean grimaced as Lucifer increased the force on his throat. Dean could feel his brain starting to grow foggy as his oxygen was cut off. Dean opened his eyes to see the Dean from 2009 standing a few dozen feet behind Lucifer, staring at the scene in shock.

Dean opened his mouth to warn Dean, desperately trying to force the air past his abused throat. It was no use; Lucifer was cutting off his air and ability to speak, but Dean fought like hell to get Dean to somehow read his mind.

Forget the Colt! It doesn't work! The Colt can't kill Lucifer! Don't go looking for—

Dean felt a snap somewhere in his neck and heard a horrible crack. The next second, everything went black.