A/N: Hi there – this isn't my first Supernatural fic, (it's actually my second!) but it is my first one that isn't a one shot, so let's hope it goes well! I'm usually in the Ninja Turtles fandom, but I discovered Supernatural a few months back and was hooked hooked hooked! Anyway, I know this is short, but don't worry, it's just the prologue. Chapter 1 will be up shortly.
Summary: An AU of All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2 and the events after it. The demon refuses to make a deal with Dean, and Sam stays dead. Suddenly Dean begins to see his brother's ghost everywhere.
PROLOGUE
Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white, and the leather of the wheel let out a soft squeak of protest as his grip increased. Dean's eyes never left the road as the Impala sped along the highway. He needed to find the nearest crossroads, and fast.
Sam was dead.
Dean had refused to accept it. He'd nearly driven himself crazy searching for his brother, and finally found him at some deserted town. As soon as he'd clapped eyes on Sam, the son of a bitch in army fatigues had come up behind his little brother and stabbed him.
He hadn't even had time to warn him.
Cradling Sam in his arms, he'd inspected the wound, insisting to his brother that the injury "wasn't that bad."
Dean had been lying to himself as well as Sam. He'd known the wound was fatal – he could tell just by the location. There was no way the knife hadn't gotten his spinal cord. He hadn't been able to protect his brother, and now Sam was dead. Half crazed, Dean could think of only one solution.
Dust flew into the air as the Impala's wheels crunched gravel. Dean pulled the car to the side of the road, got out, and walked to the center of the crossroads. He dropped to his knees and began to frantically dig into the dust. Gravel scraped his dust-powdered palms – he ignored it, and carefully re-covered the small box filled with his personal items with the dry dirt.
Getting to his feet, he looked around him. He was alone.
"Oh come on already!" He was not in the mood to play waiting games.
"Calm down sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."
A young woman stood behind him, arms crossed. Eyes flashed red for a moment, and she gave him a winning smile.
After making some smart-ass demon comments about his family that Dean wasn't in the mood for, she finally got to the point of him summoning her.
"Following in Daddy's footsteps…giving up your soul."
"There's a hundred demons that all want their hands on it, and it's all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back – bring him back and I get ten years."
"You must be kidding."
"It's the same deal you give everyone else…"
"You're not everyone else."
Dean stared at her. He could feel the shift in the conversation where he'd just lost the upper hand.
A distant part of his brain idly thought stage six: bargaining.
"Nine years."
"No."
"Eight."
"Keep going, I'll keep saying no."
Dean took a deep breath. "Five years. That's my last offer. Five years or no deal."
The demon leaned in. Dean could feel her breath on his lips – he knew the way crossroads demons preferred to seal the deal, and his pulse quickened. He was going to get Sammy back. He leaned in, and the demon suddenly pulled away.
"Then no deal." And she disappeared.
Dean dropped to his knees.
-
Dean sat in an armchair, his chin propped on his hand as he stared at his brother. Nearly every emotion there was in existence had torn through him in the past hour, and now he just felt numb.
His father was gone. Sam was dead. Dean's worst fear had been realized – he was alone.
Sure, there was Bobby, but the old hunter couldn't take the place of John Winchester, and especially couldn't take Sam's place. No one could.
Dean felt a pang as he realized anyone he would notify about Sam's death who didn't know already was dead. He wondered if there would even be anyone to bury him when he died. Somehow, he doubted it. That thought hurt almost as much as losing Sam. Almost.
Sighing, Dean wound his hands together as he thought. He felt bad for screaming Bobby out of the house. He'd seen the hurt in Bobby's eyes as he left, but he'd also seen understanding. Dean had no doubt Bobby would forgive him soon enough, but for now th other hunter knew enough to leave him alone.
A few hours later, Dean emerged from the house, holding Sam's body carefully shrouded in a sheet. Carrying his brother was difficult as Sam had stood so much taller than him. Thankfully Dean only had to struggle with the awkward load for a few feet, until he gently laid his brother on the back seat of the Impala.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Dean rested his forehead on the steering wheel, glancing over to the passenger side. It was almost impossible to believe Sam would never sit there again.
Dean let out a sigh and turned the car on.
-
The wind whipped through the large empty field, and the sun was beginning to set as Dean finished building the pyre. Sam was going to be cremated – no way in hell was Dean going to leave his brother's body to possibly be damaged or defiled by anyone or anything.
He stood back for a few moments, almost afraid to do it. Finally he tossed a match onto the lighter-fluid soaked wood he'd built the pyre out of.
As he watched what was left of Sam burn, a few tears slipped down Dean's face. Angrily he wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket.
"I swear, Sam…" he said, his voice hoarse, "I will track down every single thing there is to hunt out there, and kill the sons of bitches. Including the asshole who killed you – and the yellow-eyed demon. They're all going down."
Dean looked up at the stars that were just starting to peep out, and clenched his fists. "All of them."