AU of Faith, but canon-complicit. Encompasses aspects of S1, S2, and S8. John wasn't the first Winchester to make a deal with a demon. Oneshot.
A/N: This is written in a non-chronological format, which might make it confusing. Hopefully it makes sense, as you read it. If not, then I have failed. There are pieces of Season 1, Season 2, and Season 8 in this, which makes it very very spread out. If you haven't watched Season 8, then all you need to know is that Dean got stuck in purgatory and Sam apparently didn't even try to get him out (for no solid reason. Show did that, not me).
A little language in this, nothing rated R, just a couple curses in order to keep Sam and Dean in character.
That's all I've got. Enjoy!
"So, do we have a deal?"
His response was to violently press his lips against hers.
Her smile was predatory. "See you in seven years."
THE BEGINNING
"Sam, you've just got to accept it. I'm sorry, man."
He closed his eyes, silently counting to ten, willing himself not to break down. "I can't. Don't ask me to."
"You knew this was a long shot. I mean, you hear about these faith healers all the time. Everybody knows they're fake."
"Just . . . shut up, okay?" Sam bit his lip, turning away from Dean to stare bleakly at the muddy ground. He had to have more options. This wasn't the end of it. This couldn't be the end.
Dean was fidgeting against the passenger door. Probably wanted to be driving.
"Let's go," Sam said shortly.
Dean's eyes were on him for most of the drive. Sam just focused on making sure it wasn't obvious he was trembling.
"Sammy . . ."
"Don't."
Thankfully, Dean shut up.
But not for long. "I want to go to the Grand Canyon."
Sam's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Fine," he muttered. There was some kind of medicine man he had found. It was on the way. If that didn't work . . .
It would. He had to hold onto his hope.
"You can sleep, Dean," he offered, glancing at his brother before refocusing on the road. Dean was looking worse.
"Stop it, Sam. I'm not a baby."
Sam twitched. "Whatever, man."
"Look, dude, you need to relax."
"Relax?" Sam scoffed. "Yeah, sure I'll relax when I'm dead."
"Or when I'm dead," Dean said lightly.
Sam swung the car off to the side of the road violently.
"Hey!"
"Don't joke about this, Dean." Sam sucked in a deep breath. "Please. I can't . . . just don't. Do anything else, but this isn't some game."
His brother's eyes searched his, and Sam had to look away first. "Alright, Sammy," he finally replied.
"Go to sleep, Dean," Sam mumbled, pulling back into traffic carefully.
"Yes, mom," Dean muttered petulantly, but the next time Sam allowed himself to look over, Dean was out for the count.
He looked half-dead already.
Sam couldn't stop the tears sliding down his face then.
THE END
"Sam, get a move on!"
Sam shook his head, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. He was forgetting something. Something important . . .
"Hey. We're on a hunt, you know. Now's not the time for zoning out."
He blinked, re-gripping his machete. Dean had come back from purgatory a lot more bloodthirsty than he had gone in, he thought absently.
Dean looked a bit angry. "What, you wanna give up on this hunt like you did on me?"
Sam flinched. "I'm coming," he said quietly, falling into place behind Dean. His brother was tense, and Sam felt himself tightening up as well. They shouldn't be hunting like this, with all of the unsaid and the anger.
Dean was casing the place from the window. "Three to the right. Two to the left."
Sam nodded, quickly shifting to kneel in front of the lock. At least he wouldn't mess that up.
"Now," he hissed as the lock gave. In response, Dean lifted his machete.
They burst into the room together, Dean going to the right (predictably) and Sam taking the left. The vampires were easy to take out, and Sam was almost disappointed by the short amount of time it took to finish them off. He grinned over at Dean, who was wiping off his blade before remembering that the two of them were supposed to be fighting.
"Nice work," Dean said, which gave Sam slight leeway to relax.
"Vampires are tenacious buggers," he commented, wiping off his own machete. "After all these years, you'd think they would be extinct again."
"Well, when hunters give up . . ." Dean muttered, and Sam's good mood was gone.
"Motel?" he asked dully.
"Bar," Dean replied shortly. Sam searched his brother's face for signs of invitation, but there were none.
"I'll catch you later," he said. Dean blinked at him.
"You're going to walk back?"
Sam offered him a flat smile. "It'll help clear my head."
"Right."
THE MIDDLE
"Dean," he murmured. There wasn't an answer, and Sam forced his eyes open, shuddering when he remembered where he was. He couldn't really see a way out of this one.
The silent figures came in, and Sam pulled back further into his cage. Defenseless. And to think, they were human. If Dean knew that he had been taken out by a bunch of hillbillies . . . Something in Sam's chest clenched painfully, and Sam dropped his head onto his knees. When his cage door opened, Sam didn't move. He knew the routine. Get out, get hunted, and die.
It wasn't like he really had a choice in the matter. Sam crept out, dodging around the edge of the property and going into the other part of the barn that wasn't filled with cages. If they expected him to go running through the forest, they had another think coming.
They weren't watching, which was a plus. They would head out first into the forest. Sam waited in the dark, hefting the shaft of an old broom. He had snapped off the head, making the end pointed enough to do some serious damage.
Shouts rose up, sounding like battle cries. Sam closed his eyes for a second, composing himself. The shouts grew fainter, and he crept out of the safety of the building and over to the cars.
Dean had always been the best at hot-wiring cars, but it wasn't like he was around to help. Sam pressed his lips together. Now was not the time to break down.
The roar of the engine alerted the family, and Sam was forced to stay hunched behind the wheel to dodge bullets as he peeled out of their gravel driveway and into freedom. Sam called in an anonymous tip on the creepy family. Times like this, he didn't even know why he was going on.
"Keep fighting, little brother."
Sam just drove.
THE BEGINNING
The days slid by too quickly. They made it to the Grand Canyon, though. Dean stared at the scenery, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face. Sam just had his eyes on his brother.
Nothing he had tried was working. The feeling of despair was unique for Sam. After all, he had been the hopeful one, always hunting for something better. Even when Jess had died, it hadn't resulted in despair, just in hatred and a drive for revenge. This feeling of helplessness . . . he hated it.
"Sam, we've got to take this case."
Sam grit his teeth, carefully avoiding his brother's eyes. As much as Dean joked about Sam's puppy-dog eyes, if Dean had that look, Sam would jump off a cliff for him.
"It's not safe. I don't care who this chick is, you-we can't work a case like this."
Dean was silent, and Sam chanced a glance. And swore internally. Right. He could withstand the eyes. He could.
"Sammy, she wasn't just some chick. She . . . I . . . she was special."
Sam lost the fight the instant something in Dean's eyes softened and he realized that his brother had been in love with this girl.
"Fine," he growled. "But you are letting me do all of the work, got it? You chat up this girl of yours, and that's it."
Dean's grin was easy, and Sam found himself trying to memorize Dean's face like that. And any ability to return the smile was lost with that self-realization.
When they reached Dean's ex-girlfriend, Sam stepped back, despite his threats to take over the hunt. He could see the way Dean felt-or had once felt-about this girl Cassie.
He couldn't help but feel a pang whenever she took up some of Dean's time. With the little amount of time Dean had left, every second away from his brother was a second lost.
His brother spent one night away, and it didn't take a genius to know where he was. Sam called their dad. Again.
"Dad. It's Sam. I can't . . . I haven't found anything. The . . . doctor gave Dean a couple weeks to a month. It's been a couple weeks. Course Dean'll probably make it to a year. Cuz he's Dean. And-" Sam was forced to stifle a sob by stuffing his fist in his mouth. "Dad, please. He-we need you." He was answered by the silence of a voicemail message.
He closed the phone and threw it across the room in a rare fit of anger. Of course, his dad always could make him angry. Sam laughed, shuddering as the sound was deadened by the empty room.
THE END
"Ever feel like you're forgetting something?" Sam asked vaguely, staring up at the once-white ceiling of the motel.
"Oh, I dunno, like your brother?" Dean responded, at once light and caustic. Sam flinched.
"Dean, I told you I'm sorry. Can't you just . . ." Sam glanced over at Dean to see a gaze that had been hardened by purgatory.
"What are you forgetting?" Dean asked roughly, changing the topic. Sam wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not.
"I dunno. But the feeling keeps getting stronger, day by day. D'you think it could be supernatural?"
Dean's eyes sharpened at that, and Sam could tell that Dean was sifting through possibilities. "You get any angel angry with you?"
Sam snorted. "You mean besides all of them?"
Dean canted his head in acquiescence, drumming his fingers against the nightstand. "We have a couple rituals if it's a curse. If it's angel mojo, though, we're gonna have to go on a long and drawn-out hunt for the mysterious Cas. Guy should call himself Waldo."
Sam grimaced. "Hopefully whatever I'm forgetting isn't important."
Dean smirked. "With us, Sam? Don't tell me you've turned into an optimist in one year."
Sam's laugh came out too bitter and pained. "Yeah." He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, thinking of the months where he would just lie in bed, tempted to put a bullet in his brain. "Optimist. That's me."
THE MIDDLE
Trap. Go figure. Sam worked at his ropes while Meg concentrated on her dark magic deal.
"So what, you gonna kill me now?"
Meg's smile was huge. "Sweetie, you're not even the main event. This one's for your daddy."
Sam snorted. "Guy didn't even show for his favorite son's death. You think he'll be here?"
"Oh, I know he will."
Sam snapped the ropes and went after the altar. The shadow demons threw Meg out of the window, and Sam couldn't even find it within himself to care.
He made it back to the motel, cheek stinging from the claws of the Daeva. All thoughts of rest fled when there was a figure in the dark, though.
"Talk or I shoot," Sam said coldly, holding his gun steady.
"It's me, Sam."
Sam let his gun-Dean's old gun-drop to his side. "Oh. You. What are you doing here?"
John ran a hand through his greying hair. Sam waited impatiently. "There were signs of the demon here. I was checking into it."
Sam tilted his head. "So. Have you changed your mind yet? Are you going to tell me the demon's plans?"
John grimaced. "I don't know enough yet, but-"
A swift shadow suddenly cut off his father's words, and both John and Sam were flung against the walls by the Daeva demons. Sam fumbled into his bag for a flare.
"Cover your eyes," he barked. They made it out, barely.
"Let me know when you find the demon," Sam said shortly, turning to get into the Impala.
"Sam . . ."
He waited for something, anything, but it seemed his father knew that nothing could breach the distance between them now. They went their separate ways, and Sam couldn't even find it within him to have any regrets.
THE BEGINNING
The days went by, and Dean grew weaker and weaker. At first he had balked at Sam trying to help, shoving him off with an angry, "I'm fine," but even Dean had his limits. It got to the point that Sam was practically carrying Dean whenever they had to walk.
"C'mon."
Dean was slumped against the Impala, his breathing far too fast for Sam's comfort. "M'good here," his brother mumbled, and Sam nudged him gently.
"You can lie down once you're inside," he coaxed.
"I hate this," Dean muttered as Sam slung an arm around his older brother's waist, taking on half of his weight.
"You and me both," Sam whispered. Dean gave him a searching look and sighed. And then he stumbled.
Sam caught Dean with a gasp. "Easy, man. I've got you."
Dean shuddered. "Just get me inside," he grunted.
It took some maneuvering, but Sam managed to get Dean through the door and onto the bed.
Dean was slumped against the pillows.
"Sorry you have to see me like this, Sammy."
Sam choked down a sob. "Don't say that. Don't . . ."
"Bossy," Dean said mildly.
Gingerly, Sam sat down next to Dean. "I never wanted to leave you."
Dean blinked. "That was out of nowhere."
Sam avoided his gaze. "When I left for Stanford. I left because of hunting, and because of Dad. Not because of you."
"I know, Sammy." Dean's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Or maybe it was just tired.
"I always had this idea that maybe you would leave with me. I mean, it was stupid, but I was so keyed up back then . . . I suppose that's the reason I never called. I used to think you chose Dad over me. But I missed you."
Sam fell silent. Dean seemed to consider his words, before he smirked at Sam in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.
"Aw, Sammy, I'm gonna cry."
"Shut up, jerk."
Sam nearly jumped when Dean's hand came up to tousle his hair. "Bitch," he responded softly. Sam leaned into the touch. "You're gonna be okay."
"No."
"You will." Dean's hand moved down to Sam's neck. "You could go back to college now, and . . ."
"No."
Dean bent his head in admission. "All right, you'll find Dad, kill that thing, get your revenge."
Revenge had never seemed so hollow. Sam made a non-committal noise in his throat.
"Sam, you've got to let me go."
Despite his instincts, Sam pulled away from Dean's hand. "How can I? You . . ."
Dean reached out, catching Sam's shoulder and tugging him closer. And it wasn't like Sam put up a lot of resistance.
"I know you don't like it. But it's kind of a good death, for me." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up his hand. "I've always wanted to go out saving people and killing a monster. I got my wish. And, as a bonus, I got these weeks with you. I could've died right then, you know."
Sam shuddered, unwilling to entertain the prospect. "But you're not supposed to die," he whispered.
"I'm not Superman," Dean said, obviously amused.
"Used to think you were," Sam replied whimsically.
"Oh get over here, sasquatch." Dean tugged on his sleeve, and Sam willingly curled up next to his big brother. "You tell anyone about this, and I will personally murder you."
"Deal." Sam laid a hand over his brother's damaged heart, the beats uneven under his palm. "You know, you've got to stay alive to keep that promise."
Dean didn't answer.
THE MIDDLE
"So. You found it?"
"There's activity. We can meet up. It's in Salvation, Iowa."
"I'll make it in two days." Sam shut his cell phone with a snap, packing his few belongings in a few minutes.
The amulet caught on the edge of Sam's jacket, and he reached up, gently pulling it loose.
"This could be it, Dean," he whispered. As always, there wasn't an answer. Sam's expression hardened, and then he was gone.
Despite the vast amount of time his father had spent tracking the demon, the information was scarce. Sam kept his questions short and to the point, ignoring John's searching looks. He knew what his father saw, and it wasn't pretty. The slight hollowness from not eating enough, the hard muscle from intense work-outs, the visible scars from hunts that went a little wrong.
He was investigating when a vision hit. Like the others, he rode them out by leaning against some random wall. Just more death, playing through his brain. Sam felt an ache that had nothing to do with his pounding head. He missed Dean holding his arm, telling him to calm down, that it would be all right.
"I know who the victims will be," he told John dully. "Had a vision."
John's eyes were dark. "You get visions? As in psychic visions?"
Sam didn't even have it in him to be defiant. He just nodded and finished loading his gun. When he met his father's gaze, it was to see something in it that hadn't been there before. Fear.
"We gonna do this?"
As usual, the demon was one step ahead of them. John was forced to leave in order to deal with Meg, leaving Sam to deal with the demon. And he missed his shot.
Sam was choking on the smoke, eyes smarting with tears from the fire the demon started.
He always failed. Why had he thought this time would be any different?
THE END
"Dean, tell me about purgatory."
Dean paused in his handling of the shotgun, throwing Sam a confused glance.
"I know the caring and sharing thing is your gig, but why right now?"
Sam shrugged. "It's not like we're getting anywhere with this memory thing. And a little guilt is always good to keep me occupied."
Dean actually looked a little shocked and guilty himself at that. "Sheesh, you're cynical."
Once more, Sam shrugged.
His brother sighed. "It was just . . . a hunt. Continually. I mean, it was nice, not having to eat and stuff, but it was stressful. Don't know how I managed to not have a heart attack while I was down there."
"Did you run into any monsters that we'd ganked?"
Dean blinked. "I actually never considered that."
Sam snorted affectionately. "A whole year with dead monsters, and none of them recognized you?"
"If they did, I always killed 'em first."
Sam was startled into a laugh, and Dean threw him a look.
"You never do that anymore."
Sam frowned. "What, laugh?"
"Yeah."
"I do too."
"Do not."
"Do . . . okay, whatever."
Dean looked at him carefully. "I'm still not happy with you, you know."
Sam smiled bitterly. "Trust me, you don't have to remind me. I'm the failure in the family."
Dean frowned. "That's not . . . look, just . . . let's just move on, okay dude?"
Sam glanced at his brother searchingly. "You mean that?"
"Yeah." Dean nodded firmly.
Sam smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel painful.
THE BEGINNING
"Dean!"
"Sammy?"
Sam was startled to hear Dean's voice so close, but then he remembered falling asleep next to his brother. He shook himself.
"Sammy, what's wrong?" His brother's voice was sharp, close to scared.
"Vision," Sam grunted. The headache hit and he closed his eyes against the pain.
"Deep breaths, man. It'll be okay." Dean's hand rested lightly against Sam's forehead, easing the pressure.
"Guy's dead in his car . . . I think something . . . something killed him. Dean, we have to . . ." Sam trailed off, realizing that there was no way they could handle a case like this, not now.
"We can go, Sam. I'll be fine."
Sam shook his head, remembering too late his aching head. He groaned slightly. "No, Dean, you shouldn't move around, and . . ."
"Sam."
Sam risked opening his eyes to see Dean looking fondly exasperated. Something inside of Sam twisted a little.
"Stop being such a mother hen. I'll be fine. Promise, no over-exertion."
"Alright," Sam muttered reluctantly. He started gathering their stuff while Dean watched.
"Gotta say, watching you do all the work is kinda fun," he said cheerfully.
Sam shot him a glare. "Jerk."
"Bitch."
Sam paused as he zipped up the weapons bag. "Why aren't you freaking out more?" he asked suspiciously.
Dean actually seemed to take the question seriously, a foreign look of calm introspection crossing his face. "I guess I figure it'll be okay. You'll be okay, you know? This psychic gig is just one more thing to use against the bad guys."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You've changed your tune."
Dean grinned. "What can I say? I'm a man of many, uh, you know."
Sam rolled his eyes, but had to turn away so Dean couldn't see his eyes filling with tears.
The case was a painful one, filled with vision after vision and death after death. Sam was just pitifully thankful that Dean was there, able to grab his shoulder and keep him sane when the visions hit.
In the end, they hadn't even been able to save the psychic kid. Under normal circumstances, Sam probably would've been freaking out about it, but somehow it was small compared to the fact that Dean was going to die soon.
THE MIDDLE
Sam stared dispassionately into the demon's eyes. It was grinning, using his father's face. The Colt was too far away, and they had pretty much lost.
"Sam, Sam, Sam. Look at you, growing up."
"Not that this isn't fun, but if you want to kill me, get it over with," Sam spat.
John's face was twisted in some kind of amusement. "Kill you? Oh, definitely not."
The demon actually released him from his hold, and Sam collapsed on his hands and knees. He warily stood.
"Pity, you know, about your brother. Heard about that. Pathetic way to go, heart giving out like-"
Sam felt a rage so explosive that something punched out of him, and suddenly the demon had been sent flying across the room. The Colt was in his hand, and Sam aimed it at the demon's heart. His father's heart.
Sam took the shot.
Dean would've told him not to. Dean would've told Sam no, and Sam would have stood down.
But Dean wasn't there.
Sam burned his father's body in a hunter's funeral. Last Winchester standing. Revenge complete.
Good for him.
THE BEGINNING
"Sammy, I think . . ." Dean's face was grey and Sam shuddered.
"Hospital?" he whispered, but Dean shook his head.
"It'll be okay, Sammy."
Tears were already blurring his vision, and Sam angrily swiped a hand across his eyes. "No, I can't. Dean, you can't leave me. Please."
"I'm sorry, Sam. Hey, you take care of the Impala for me, okay?"
Sam couldn't even answer him. Dean couldn't be dying. Not here. Not in a flea-infested motel. Not now. Not when they were just starting to be brothers again.
"Sammy," Dean's breath hitched, and Sam hated the pain on his face.
"Dean, we have drugs, I can . . ."
"No, Sam." Dean's hand blindly reached out, and Sam crept forward. "Hey. You be good, okay? Keep fighting, little brother."
Dean's hand gently pulled Sam in close. "Dean," Sam began, but fell silent as Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of Sam's head.
It ended, that night. In an awful, run-down motel. Sam wasn't sure exactly when, but all he knew was that he was left with a corpse and a pain so encompassing it was swallowing him whole.
THE END
The sun was setting. Sam straightened. The feeling was there, the knowledge that he was being watched.
A howl made Sam shudder. His brother was across the street, relaxing at a cafe. Sam dodged cars, crossing the street and reaching Dean.
"Dean, I think . . . I think something's going to happen," he said. He realized absently that he was sweating and shaking, maybe from fear? He couldn't even tell.
"Sammy."
Sam blinked. And grinned. It was the first time Dean had called him by the nickname since purgatory.
Another howl made Sam's blood freeze in his veins.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Dean's voice was sharp.
"I think . . ." Sam didn't realize that he'd zoned out until Dean was shaking him.
"Hey. Let's get back to the motel, okay?"
Sam nodded vaguely and found himself being tugged down the street.
"Sam, what's going on here? You gotta come clean, man."
He blinked, realizing they had somehow made it inside the motel. "I dunno. It's almost there, I just can't . . ." A blazing pain flashed its way across his brain, and Sam crumpled with a bitten-off cry. He could vaguely hear Dean calling him. He wanted to tell him it was gonna be alright, that he had to keep fighting, little brother . . .
THE MIDDLE
"Gotta say, I never expected you to be making a deal."
Sam straightened from where he had buried the traditional summoning materials. The demon was possessing a woman, who was smiling at him in a predatory fashion. A foot to the left, and she'd be in the devil's trap.
"You know who I am?" he asked, deliberately moving so that she would follow.
"Sammy Winchester, the one who killed Azazel. So, what are you after?"
Sam had first approached this case as a hunt. His goal was to trap the demon and use it to get the other men out of their deals.
"That depends on how powerful you really are," he hedged. He took another step, and then the demon was in the trap.
"Oh, I have a lot of power, sweetheart. How would you like to see that brother of yours again, for example?"
Sam froze. He knew that demons were powerful, but it hadn't crossed his mind that bringing Dean back was an option. He licked his lips. "You can do that?"
Her smile was wide. "Well, I'd have to call in some favors. But sure."
"Dean wouldn't want to be brought back like that," Sam forced himself to say. He kept his voice flat. Because Dean really would not want to be brought back, not through a deal in which Sam would end up going to hell. And into a world where their dad was dead.
The demon's eyes flashed red. "What about resetting the clock?"
Sam narrowed his own eyes. "You're not that powerful."
"I have friends in high places, Sammy. You make it worth it, and we can stick both you and your brother back with that faith healer and fix Dean right up."
"How do you know about that?"
"Word gets around."
Sam clenched his trembling hands into fists. "Why would you do that?"
"I like to see how things play out. This way, events might change a bit. And your soul . . . well, it's definitely worth it," she said.
Sam knew he shouldn't even be considering it. But he thought briefly of the empty motel room, the empty Impala, and knew he was lost.
"What would be your end of the deal?" he asked hoarsely.
"This one's a big one, so I'm thinking five years, and then we get your soul."
Sam tilted his head. "What about the fact that you're trapped?"
The demon's face went blank. She tried to take a step, but was stopped. Eyes flashing red, she turned back to Sam, who began prowling the edge of the devil's trap.
"Nice stuff, gravel. Hides whatever you paint beneath it," Sam commented.
"It appears I've underestimated you, Winchester," she spit. "But you're not getting a brother back for nothing."
"Tack on a couple more years, let those men out of their deals, and we'll call it square."
She scowled. "Fine. Seven years. And the others are free to go."
Sam shoved aside the gravel and scratched away the paint.
"So, do we have a deal?"
His response was to violently press his lips against hers.
Her smile was predatory. "See you in seven years."
A figure suddenly appeared to her left. Sam backed up a step, but the person-demon, or whatever it was-moved faster than Sam could react, and reached out two fingers, touching him on the forehead.
"You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"
Sam blinked, and then looked at Dean with a determined expression. They were going to Nebraska, and the faith healer would heal Dean. He would. "I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going."
THE END
"Sammy? C'mon man, talk to me, what was that? Memory from Hell, vision, what?"
Sam blinked, and then managed to laugh brokenly. "Dean. I remember, now."
Dean hauled him to his feet, sitting him on the edge of his bed. "Remember what?" he asked cautiously.
"I . . ." It would kill Dean, to tell him. But Sam was done keeping secrets. "I've been hearing hellhounds."
Dean could've been made out of stone, he was so still. "What?" His voice was flat, emotionless.
"Time's up. Deal's done." Sam passed a shaky hand across his face. The memories were conflicting, twisting up with each other. Did Sam shoot his dad in the face or not? He glanced over at Dean. Who looked as angry as Sam had ever seen.
"Sam, are you telling me that you made a deal?" he growled.
"Afraid so."
Dean closed his eyes. "What was it for?" His voice was trembling with rage, or maybe fear. Sam wasn't that good at reading his brother anymore.
"You."
"Sam, if you don't explain everything, right now, I swear . . ."
"Do you remember the faith healer?"
Dean stopped. "The faith . . . you mean when I had the heart . . ."
"Yeah. Well, it turns out that really, the faith healer didn't work. You died, because of your heart. I kept going. Hunting, and stuff. Killed Dad when Yellow-eyes was in him, because you weren't there to stop me." Sam paused, seeing that Dean was processing.
"I don't understand."
"Remember the crossroads demon? The first one we ever came across, when you were tempted to make a deal to get dad back?"
Dean flinched. "Yes."
"That's where and when I made my deal. She called in a favor from an angel, and he whammied me and brought you back. Alternate reality deal. Apparently took my memories too, so I didn't remember."
Sam jumped when Dean suddenly pushed up to his feet, swearing loudly.
"You didn't . . . how could you have . . . You . . ."
Sam laced his fingers together. "Guess it turns out that I was actually the first Winchester to start with the whole making deals thing. I bet they were laughing in Hell when you made the deal for me when I was already damned."
"Sammy . . ." Dean raised his hands and gripped his head, looking as desperate as Sam had ever seen him. "How could this have happened?"
Sam gave Dean the painful ghost of a smile. "I couldn't do it without you. I was just hunting, all alone. It was like when you went to hell the first time, only I didn't use demon blood 'cuz I didn't know about it."
Dean's mind had quickly jumped to something else. "Wait, it hasn't been ten years, it can't . . ."
"I didn't get ten years, Dean," Sam said patiently. "I got seven, and got those guys out of their deals."
Dean scowled. "Wait, but you didn't, because when we had the case I had to barter to get the guy out of his deal."
Sam flopped back on the bed, feeling oddly empty. "Oh. Guess I got screwed over by the demon. Not like that hasn't happened before."
THE BEGINNING
Sam buried Dean. The next day, their father showed up.
"Sam, how did this happen?"
He blinked, staring at the sunset, choked up with the knowledge that Dean would never see another sunset.
"Sammy?"
He whirled on John. "You don't call me that. You can't. You abandoned us, you didn't even show up, when he . . ." Sam couldn't continue, and bit back a sob.
When his father responded, his voice was broken. "I didn't know, Sam. I've been off the grid, tracking the demon, and . . ."
"I don't need your excuses," Sam said coldly, finding his equilibrium again. Deep down, he knew he was being unreasonable, but he really didn't care.
"You should've given him a hunter's funeral," John finally said.
"Well, I didn't." Sam reached up to tightly grip the amulet now slung around his neck. It was heavy. "So, do you know where the demon is?"
John was closed off, shoulders lowered in grief. "No. Not yet. I have to go after him alone, but when I find him, I promise I'll let you help."
Sam nodded and turned away from his father and his brother's grave.
He had to keep fighting, after all.
THE END
"Are you just . . . accepting this?"
Sam looked at Dean in surprise. "This isn't exactly a new scenario for us, man. Plus, I've already been to hell once. Second time can't be that bad, right?"
Dean looked devastated. Which didn't make sense.
"Dean, it doesn't matter. It's not like we've been doing so hot right now anyway. You should go find the vampire that got you out. Benny, right? It'll be okay."
Sam found himself being yanked to his feet and slammed into the motel wall. "Don't you dare say that. Sam, I'm not letting you go to hell, that's not happening."
"Same song, different verse." Sam heard the howling and tilted his head. "It'll be okay, man. Trust me, whatever they're gonna do to me won't be half as bad as when Lucifer and Michael had me." Sam looked at Dean, surprised to find his eyes red-rimmed and shining.
"Dammit, Sam."
Sam half-smiled. "Get in line."
"Sam . . ." Dean suddenly stared at him intently, forcing Sam to look away. "You think that I'm okay with this?"
"It's been a long year," Sam said quietly.
Dean grabbed Sam's chin and forced him to look him in the eye. "Not that long."
"You're making this harder than it's already going to be, you know that?" Sam said shakily.
"I'll get you out, Sam."
"No deals."
Dean sighed. "No deals. But now that we know about angels, I figure we should be able to maneuver one of 'em to save your bacon. Again."
Sam smirked. "They probably think we like it down there."
Dean's face suddenly twisted into something grotesque and Sam pushed away with a gasp.
"Sam?"
"I think . . . I think it's starting," Sam said, sucking in a deep breath.
"It'll be okay." Dean went to the bags, looking frantically for the goofer dust.
"Dean, don't bother. It won't make a difference."
The motel door was blasted open, and Crowley strode in. "Hello, boys. So someone's contract just came due. If only I'd known about this sooner, I could've avoided a whole lot of mess. But that's demons for you. Terrible with paperwork."
Dean leapt forward, Ruby's knife in his hand, but Crowley flicked a wrist and Dean was slammed into the wall.
"C'mon Moose, no clever plan to get out of this?"
Sam stood, walking over to Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean. It'll be okay, I promise." He smiled, briefly grabbing Dean's hand with his own. "Keep fighting, big brother."
"Sic 'em, boy."
The pain was familiar, the tearing claws going deep. Dean was screaming, and Sam was swept away.
EPILOGUE
Sam woke up. And was punched in the face.
"Wha-" he gingerly touched his sore jaw, looking up in confusion at Dean.
"That was for . . . everything."
Sam blinked, taking in unfamiliar surroundings and a tired-looking Dean. "Huh?"
"If the two of you could restrain yourselves from going to Hell any more, I would really appreciate it."
Castiel's dry voice was there too. Sam was . . . confused.
"What's going on?"
"You were in Hell, idiot. Castiel dragged your sorry carcass back up to the surface. Say thank you."
"I . . . thanks, Cas."
Castiel's expression was wry. "I owe you a lot more, Sam."
Sam held his gaze. "No, really. Thank you."
"Quit with the chick-flick moment, guys. You, you owe me an apology. And pie."
Sam grinned, and surged up to gather Dean into a bear hug.
"Gerroff me, you giant girl," Dean growled, but he didn't push Sam away.
"I missed you," Sam mumbled into Dean's shoulder. Dean patted him on the back.
"Missed you too, Samantha. But you still owe me pie."
Sam drew back, and really grinned, feeling freer than he had in years. "You got it."