Alternate ending to Season 5 - Following 5x08 - "Changing Channels"
I was hoping to post this before season 6, but since I hate posting anything until I have it from start to finish, I couldn't really pull it off. So I'm a bit far behind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

At Any Cost

Chapter 1: No one could ever stop it now...

Under the darkness of night, the old run down hospital's long winding hall didn't seem to have an end. Guns drawn, Sam and Dean moved swiftly and meticulously through the maze of corridors, carefully making their way over debris that littered the floor as they searched the rooms one by one for the source of the haunting that had brought them out there in the first place. After refusing to play their role as vessels in the final battle between Heaven & Hell, the brothers were determined to find their own way out of the mess they'd made; choosing to fight for themselves rather than give in to the angels and demons that were trying to tear them apart for their own purpose. Despite being wanted by both sides, the threat of a looming Apocalypse and the fact that all odds were against them coming out of it alive, going back to hunting and keeping busy seemed like the best distraction... if only to keep the crushing weight off their shoulders, for a moment.

Leading the way, Dean paused in his steps as he spotted a fresh footprint in the lair of dust that had settled on the floor. Without a word, he pointed the find to his younger brother and then pointed to the closed door in front of them. Just like a team of skilled officers, they put their backs against the wall; Dean giving his younger brother a nod before putting a hand to the door knob and slowly giving it a turn. The second it unlatched, he shouldered his shotgun, kicked the door into the wall and turned the corner to face the unknown; stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes focused on Zachariah and a pair of angels that were standing there waiting for him. "Oh shit..."

"Well hello there." Zachariah started, a smirk to the corner of his lips as he pointed to the sawed off shot gun in the hunter's tight grip. "You were expecting someone else?" He asked simply.

Dean couldn't help but swear under his breath as he eyed the two rather large men standing there at Zachariah's side. Both were at least twice his size and if that wasn't enough to put the situation in their favor, the sharp blades they were holding certainly was. Though he took aim with the gun in his hands, he knew it would do him no good; rock salt was no match for angels. "Sam, I could really use your help in here." He called out, his voice bouncing off the old crumbling walls around him. When he didn't get a reply, he took a quick glance over his shoulder at the empty doorway behind him, his younger brother was nowhere in sight. "Uh, Sammy?"

"Your brother has his own problems to deal with, never mind handling yours." Zachariah replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And just so you know... Ignoring the problem, wont make it go away."

When the door suddenly slammed shut behind him, Dean swallowed hard, letting the eerie sound settle in the back of his mind before finding his words. "You've gotta be pretty dense if you still don't get the message." He growled, his eyes narrowing on the angels that stood in front of him. "Like I already told you, Michael can shove it where the sun don't shine as far as I'm concerned... The answer's still no."

There was a short moment of silence as Zachariah eyed the defiant hunter carefully. "Of course it is." He calmly replied. "You made that point quite clear; I know you wont say yes to Michael."

"Well I'm glad you finally got it through that thick skull of yours." Dean hissed, his low tone of voice doing little to hide the fear that was slowly starting to surface. "I've got to admit though, between you guys and Lucifer, I thought you'd be the first to stop wasting your time with this 'true vessel' crap."

"I'm more persistent than Lucifer." Zachariah calmly replied.

"Yeah sure, if that's what you want to call it." Dean continued, his eyes drifting over to the two large angels standing there at Zachariah's sides. "Why are you here, what do you want?" He growled.

"Well I know you won't listen to me..." Zachariah started, a smirk to the corner of his lips. "So I came here to find someone that will... I consider it a plan B. approach to dealing with the Apocalypse."

"You son of a bitch, if you so much as lay a hand on Sam, I will rip your heart right out of..."

"Whoa, take it easy boy." The angel cut in, his slight chuckle instantly silencing the other man. "Sam's just as bullheaded as you are, he won't say yes..." Zachariah paused for a moment as he reached over to one of the angels at his side, taking the sharp blade in his hand before turning his attention back to Dean. "By the way, that determination you have to stay true to yourself and what you believe in, you get that from your mother's side."

Dean's heart started to race as he eyed the large blade in the angel's tight grip. If they weren't there for him and they didn't want his brother, what did they want? "What are you going to do with that?" He asked, taking a step back as Zachariah took one forward.

"I'm going to give him a reason to show up." Zachariah simply replied, passing a finger along the sharp blade. "Don't you worry though, this wont hurt... too much."

"Give who a reason?" Dean growled, swallowing the lump caught in his throat as the angel gave him a sinister smile. "What the hell are you talking about!" When Zachariah took another step towards him, he didn't hesitate pulling the trigger.

"Was that really necessary?" Zachariah asked, shaking his head as he passed a hand over the hundreds of small holes that now peppered his clean, crisp shirt. "I like this vessel, makes me look important..."

"It made me feel better." Dean explained, loading the shotgun a second time as he took another step back. When he backed into someone else and a pair of hands clamped down around his arms, he swore under his breath, his shotgun falling to the floor. One of the angels that had been there in front of him only moments ago was now standing behind him, holding him in place. "What's going on, what do want." He demanded.

"You'll see." Zachariah whispered, rolling the large silver blade in the palm of his hand as he watched Dean try to free himself from the angel's firm grip. "Relax, I'm not going to kill you... Not now anyway." He started softly, a villainous tone hidden in his voice. "We just need to spill a bit of blood."

When Zachariah took a swing at the air between them, Dean was not only caught off guard but taken by surprise as the angel's sharp blade sliced into his flesh. Though it happened in the blink of an eye, he felt that blade drag against each and every one of the ribs along his right side. The searing pain was unbearable and as he sucked in a shallow breath, it took everything he had just stay on his feet. "You son of a bitch." He breathed, his words barely coming together as he caught the eyes of the angel standing there in front of him. Zachariah's smug, sinister smile only added fuel to the fire, but the anger that was burning in the pit of his stomach was quickly being drowned out by the pain the angel had inflicted without even a touch. When he clamped a shaky hand down over the deep gash, he couldn't help but cringe; feeling the warmth of his own blood as it seeped through his fingers and trickled down his arm forced him to remember his time spent tortured in Hell. Every heartbeat hit like a hammer and every time it did, the pain surged through his body.

The moment a drop of blood hit the ground at his feet, was the moment Castiel stepped out of thin air and the angel that had been holding him up, let him fall to the floor. Dean hit the ground hard, swearing to himself as the impact triggered a whole new level of pain. Against his will, his body was slowly starting to shut down and the harder he fought the darkness that was threatening to take him, the harder it got for him to keep his focus and control. As Zachariah and his accomplices turned their attention from him to the renegade angel that had suddenly appeared, Dean could do little more than watch. This wasn't about him or his brother, this was about Castiel and he had just been used to bait the trap.

Castiel was the first to take a swing with his dagger in hand, and though he managed to slice into one of the angel's arms, and into the other one's chest, it didn't take long for the pair to get the best of him. Ripping the blade from his hands and tossing it aside, Zachariah's two accomplices quickly moved in, forcing Castiel up against a wall. "Leave him alone." Dean groaned, helplessly watching as Castiel took one punch after another, the finale one having enough force to knock him through the wall and into the next room. "Please..." He pleaded, letting his head fall to the cold floor he was lying on. "Just leave him alone." When the two angels disappeared into the second room and Zachariah turned slightly to catch his eyes, he knew this wouldn't end well.

"I'll see ya around Dean." He said, a sinister smirk plastered across his face. "Sooner than later..."

Dean awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his breath catching in the back of his throat as he quickly sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. It took a moment for everything to fall back into place but when it did, it hit him hard. He felt his stomach turn and let out a ragged breath as he tried to keep his mind off the blood drenched scene that had just played out inside his spinning head. He swore to himself and as he passed a hand over his face, the light on the bedside table next to him suddenly came on. He swallowed hard; another night, another town, another rundown motel, but the same thoughts, the same fears and the same conversation was about to follow. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you..." He managed, his eyes glued to the questionably clean carpet under his feet.

"You alright?" Sam asked quietly, carefully studying the man that was sitting on the very edge of the bed next to him. He wasn't gasping for breath, this time, but he didn't seem to be catching it fast enough to fill his lungs either. Dean sat hunched over with his face in his hands, the mess of tangled sheets pushed all the way to the foot of his bed. Though such a sight was something Sam was starting to get use to, getting used to it made it no easier to witness. Night after night was the same, and the toll it was taking on Dean, was starting to take it's toll on Sam. When he didn't get a reply, he let out a sigh. "Dean..."

"I'm good." Dean was quick to reply, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally looked up to catch his younger brother's eyes. Though he offered what he could of a smile, he knew he was fooling no one, himself included. During the day, he did what he could to keep busy, but at night, when all was calm, his fears about the future and memories of the past always did come back to haunt him. "I just, uh..." He paused for a moment as his mind drifted in and out, a shaky hand reaching up to the sore spot in his right side. "I just had a dream, and..."

When Sam's eyes focused on the dark stain that was starting to soak through his older brother's T-shirt, he swore under his breath. "Damn it, Dean." He breathed, thinking of that night at the old Hospital when he had found his brother on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood. "That's the fifth time you pull those stitches out..." He started, his tone of voice laced with more weariness than it was with concern as he pushed the bed sheets aside and got to his feet. The last few weeks had been hard and just knowing that they were running out of time made it that much harder to keep it all within focus. Days were slipping by, Dean could hardly keep up and they were no closer to stopping either side from launching an all out war that would mean death to mankind.

Dean silently watched as his brother disappeared into the motel washroom, the sound of running water in the sink being the only thing to fill the dead of night as the other man wet a clean towel. He closed his eyes for a moment, the gash in his side a constant reminder that the angels were still one step ahead of them and that no matter what, the Apocalypse was going to happen. With or without them, the angels would make sure that it did. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the other man make his way back towards the bed.

When Sam dragged the small lamp across the bedside table, Dean's eyes suddenly flew open. "Hey, you alright?" He asked again, dropping his duffle bag on the ground next to him as he knelt down between the two beds and started digging around for his first aid kit. "You looked a little lost there for a second..."

"All things considered, I'm fine." Dean replied quietly, wincing slightly as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. The movement alone was enough to make him feel Zachariah's blade drag against his rib cage all over again but he did his best to hide it from Sam, because that's just the way it was. His breath caught in the back of his throat as his brother pressed the cold, wet cloth up against the gash. "Take it easy, will ya?" He groaned, his eyes closing for a moment as a shiver made its way down his spine.

Sam held the towel there for a moment before gently pulling it away, his eyes carefully studying the line of stitches that were holding the long gash shut. Though the lower half of the wound had finally started to heal, the upper half looked as if it had been made only yesterday. He pulled the lamp shade off to make better use of its light, and swore under his breath as his eyes focused on the half-dozen stitches his brother had just ripped out, again. "If you keep this up, this is never going to heal." He said bluntly, watching as blood continued to seep from the gash.

"Do you think I'm doing this on purpose?" Dean asked drily, grabbing the towel out of his brother's hands. He pressed it back up to the wound himself as he watched Sam pull items out of the first aid kit nearby. "I'd give anything not to have that night playback inside my head every time I close my godamn eyes." He growled, immediately regretting doing so as a sharp pain greeted his harsh tone of voice. When he caught his younger brother's eyes, he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry..." He blurted, passing a hand through his hair as he straightened out. "I just, I can't put it behind me." He explained, pulling the towel away as Sam reached out, tweezers in hand, to remove the broken sutures one by one. "Don't get me wrong, Sammy, I'll fight this 'till I die if I have too... but it's like the harder we try, the harder it gets..."

Sam swallowed the lump caught in his throat as he tried to keep his focus on removing the torn stitches as quickly and painlessly as he could. "Hey, don't give up on me, not now." He started softly. "Remember the plan to kill one, kill 'em all?" He paused for only a moment as Dean cracked somewhat of a smile. "At any cost, Dean..."

There was a moment of silence as Dean watched his younger brother set the tweezers down on the table at his side. It was what they didn't talk about that kept them going, what they knew, but avoided to admit. Like the fact that their one and only plan was so unrealistic, saying that they would be going down swinging hard was a better statement. Following that night, they had vowed to stop all of this and no matter what, they were in it for the long haul. "If we don't find a way, at least we'll know we tried." He replied quietly, pressing the towel back up to his side as Sam reached for a needle and thread.

Sam didn't bother giving his brother a reply as he held the needle with his teeth and unraveled a length of thread from the spool. He was starting to tire of getting up in the middle of night to close the cut in Dean's side and discuss the situation they were in, about how they were getting nowhere as days continued to slip by. After cutting a piece of thread and passing it through the eye of the needle, he turned back towards his brother and paused; his eyes drifting down to the bottle of Whisky tucked under the side of his bed. He let out a heavy sigh as he reached down to grab the bottle. "This has to stop." He stated simply, his stern tone of voice forcing Dean to catch his eyes as he planted the bottle down on the table at his side. "It's been three weeks..."

"I know how long it's been." Dean was quick to reply, his mind drifting back for a moment to the last time he'd seen Castiel. "You don't need to remind me." He said, pulling the towel away and bracing himself as Sam leaned in to start the first stitch. Reality was starting to sink in, he and his brother were left standing alone, alone against Heaven & Hell with no real hope of stopping either side. Even if they could find a way, all odds really were stacked against them. When he felt that needle pierce his skin and the thread drag through after it, Dean sucked in a breath. It didn't matter how careful, skilled or steady his younger brother was; it still hurt.

"So this is what you guys do at night?" Came a voice from the darkness. "It's no wonder people think you two are an item... I mean, that's kind of kinky." Sam paused from his task to look up at Dean before looking over at the archangel that was standing at the foot of the bed. "Hey, I'm just saying..." Gabriel continued, first pointing to a shirtless Dean and then to a kneeling Sam.