Sam continued to carefully place the salt along the window sill, Dean watched from the doorway as he winched slightly as his fingers trailed over his bruise covered face. Sam noticed his brother watching him and placed the container on the closest surface.

"How is he?" he asked softly.

"He just needed a little rest, that's all." Dean said shrugging as he entered the room. He was still watching his brother. "How are you?"

"I'll survive." Sam said. He turned to face Dean properly. "Hey, you don't think we were followed here, do you?"

"I don't know, I don't think so." Dean said crossing the room to glance out the window. "I mean, we couldn't have found a more out of the way place to hole up."

"Yeah." Sam said nodding. He looked to his brother almost shyly. "Hey, uh…Dean, you, um…" he stumbled over his words before he managed to finally softly get out "You saved my life back there."

Dean looked like he was fighting a smile. "So, I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?"

"I'm trying to say thank you." Sam said patiently.

Dean threw a grin towards his brother. "You're welcome." He continued to watch Sam as the grin fell from his face. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that guy I shot?" Dean asked, he waited for Sam to slowly nod before he continued. "There was a person in there."

Sam glanced up at him. "So?"

"So?" Dean repeated. "So I killed him. I didn't even hesitate. I killed that guy. I killed Meg. I didn't even flinch." He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly let it out. "For you or dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just, and uh…it scares me sometimes."

"Sometimes." Sam said after a few tense seconds passed. "You have to do what you gotta do. Regardless of who gets hurt Dean."

Dean glanced up at him, his eyes scrunching up.

"Sam." he started to say before a noise brought both their attentions to the other room.

"You used the gun?" John demanded as he entered the room. "You wasted a bullet."

"To save Sam's life." Dean said. "Yeah, I did. And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

"That gun is the only thing that can kill that son of a bitch and we are now down to two bullets." John said. "Because you thought you had to go and play hero."

"Sam was dying." Dean said jumping to his feet. Sam settled back against the wall as he watched his father and brother argue. "You wanted me to just stand there and watch as that demon choked the living crap out of him."

"Can you two please stop fighting." Sam said quietly, his eyes going from one to the other. "I think we have bigger things to worry about."

John threw Sam an irritated look which his youngest simply returned with a blank one.

"I thought I raised you better than this." John hissed at Dean. He extended his hand towards his eldest. "Give me the Colt, I don't believe I can't trust you with it anymore."

Dean immediately drew the gun out of his jacket and handed it with the handle facing John despite the indigent look in his eyes. His arm fell back to his side as John all but snatched the gun from him and his head fell towards his chest as his shoulders slumped forward.

Sam walked to his brother and placed his hand on the others shoulder, to which Dean twitched his shoulder so that Sam's hand was pushed off.

Suddenly the wind starting howling outside and strengthened to the point of the shutters on the house started to shake. The lights begun to flicker steadily, the sounds of electricity bursting through the air caused the hairs on the back of their necks to rise. As one the family went to the window and peered out.

"Looks like it found us." John said looking out the window carefully. "Salt lines?"

"In front of every window and every door." Sam said immediately peering over his dads shoulder.

John lifted the gun, savoring the heavy weight in his hand and his thumb danced over the hammer.

"Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in salvation." Dean hissed at his father. "It disappeared."

"This is me, I won't miss." John reassured his son, from the corner of his eye he saw Sam slowly walk to the back and around them. He froze for a moment as he saw Sam's fingers twitch slightly and rub against one another. He glanced over his shoulder at his youngest. "You alright there Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Just ready to get this over with dad."

John let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Same with us."

Then turning in a perfect circle on his heel he turned and faced the barrel of the gun towards his son. He ignored Deans cry of anger and Sam's surprised look.

"Dad?" Sam asked cautiously.

"How stupid do you think I am?" John demanded. "That you think I wouldn't recognize my own son?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean commanded. "Dad, the hell is going on?"

"That." John said motioning to Sam who was staring at him silently with a motion of his head before he cocked the gun. "Is not Sam."

"Dad." Sam said bringing his hands up with his palms facing John. "It's me."

"I know my son, and you ain't him." John said. Dean looked from his father to his brother.

"Dean?" Sam sounded, his voice shaking in fear as he stared at the gun in John's hand.

"What the hell's gotten into you, dad?" Dean asked stepping forward slightly.

"Dads lost his mind is what's going on." Sam said his eyes still focused on the gun. "This stupid quest, this stupid obsession, of his has finally drove him insane."

"He's not Sam." John insisted.

"Then who the hell is he?" Dean asked.

"He's being possessed." John said not taking his eyes off of Sam. "He's been possessed since the two of you came into that damn building with your foolish rescue mission."

"Rescuing your ungrateful ass." Sam snipped. "See if we ever do that again."

"Don't listen to him Dean." John urged. "That's not him."

"And how the hell do you know?" Dean snapped, his eyes went from his brother to his father steadily.

"Look at him. Look at him, son." John insisted. "You know your brother better than anyone else does, including me. Tell me there's something there that doesn't seem right."

Shooting his father a warning look Dean glanced to Sam, his eyes raking him from top to bottom.

Sam tried and failed to get a smile on his face. "Dean?" he asked, his voice sounding almost as if he was fighting tears.

Slowly realization spread along Dean's face as he took slow steps to stand beside his father once more.

"Dean!" Sam almost shouted, betrayal spreading along his face as a few tears finally rolled down from the corners of his eyes. He reached out as if to grab Dean and managed to curl his fingers around Dean's jacket before Dean harshly pulled himself away from Sam and stood behind his father.

"Oh." Sam said softly, more tears coming down his face however he didn't seem to acknowledge them. "So, that's it then." His eyes went from Dean to his John before they fell to the ground. "Just like Stanford. Me, against the two of you."

"Don't you dare talk like you're my son." John snarled.

Sam ignored him. "And just like then, you're taking his side." he continued. When he looked up at them they saw his eyes were shining with more unshed tears.

"Fine." he said, sniffling loudly. He drew his hand across his face to wipe away the fallen tears as he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. He extended his arms to the side and spread his hands. "The both of you are so sure, go ahead." His voice choked however he still forced the next words out. "Kill me."

Dean was breathing heavily as he looked from his brother to his father. John was staring at Sam almost as if he had never seen him before in his life and Dean would swear he saw tears of his own gathering in his father's eyes.

Sam was making small choked noises however he seemed to be attempting to look brave as he watched John carefully. Slowly he let his arms fall back to his sides as the noises stopped and his eyes closed as he bowed his head.

"I thought so." Sam said softly. "Pathetic." He brought his head up and John felt whatever remaining breath that was left in his body immediately disappear as Dean nearly choked beside him.

Sam's eyes were yellow.

With a bellow Dean leaped forward towards his brother however he was immediately thrown to the side. John followed onto the adjacent wall, dropping the Colt as he was slammed against the wall.

Sam gave a sigh as he walked to the fallen Colt and kneeled. He picked it up and brought it to eye level.

"You have no idea." he said, his voice gliding in a way Sam never spoke. "How much of a pain in the ass this thing has been."

He stood slowly as he turned the gun around in his hands to look at it from every corner.

"I've been looking for you for a long time." John snarled as he tried to fight back from the power holding him against the wall.

Sam glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, you found me."

"When the hell?" Dean snarled as he tried to fight against the binding against him before his head was banged against the rotten wood once more. "When the hell did you have time to possess my brother?"

The demon wearing his brother's skin glanced towards him. He trailed the barrel of the gun along the table that somehow remained standing in the room. "When he was getting pummeled." it said simply. "Everyone around was so distracted; Sam was getting beaten, you were preoccupied in trying to save your brother, John here," he motioned with his head to the John who glaring at him. "Was unconscious and therefore useless. No one even noticed when I slipped in and our little Sammy was no more."

"I'm going to kill you!" John snarled.

"That would be a neat trick." Sam said winking towards his father as he placed the gun onto the table. "But Sammy here was the psychic one, not you.

"Well, this is fun." he said licking his lips and walking towards Dean until they were standing next to each other. "I could have killed you a hundred times today, but this…" he gave a sweet sigh. "This is worth the wait."

Dean groaned as he tried to force himself off the wall before he collapsed in almost exhaustion. Sam glanced over at him before he reached up and tapped his temple.

"Your brother, he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit." he said before his grin widened and he said the next words almost like he was practically breathless with excitement. "He says 'hi', by the way." The grin widened and his yellow eyes were shining with eagerness.

"He's gonna tear you apart." he breathed. "He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Or I swear to God-"

"What?" Sam interrupted. "What are you and God gonna do?" He walked closer to Dean, his face losing the excited and almost childish look to it. "You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice." he said softly. He leaned closer to Dean until their faces were centimeters apart. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Who, Meg?"

"The one in the alley?" Sam continued as if he didn't hear Dean. "That was my boy. You understand now?"

""You've got to be kidding me. Dean groaned.

"What?" Sam demanded. "You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes now shining in anger. "How would you feel if I killed your family?" His face brightened as Deans fell.

"Oh, that's right." Sam said lightly. "I forgot. I did. Still," he lifted his hand up and wagged a finger "two wrongs don't make a right."

"You son of a bitch." Dean grounded out. "Get out of my brother and face me like a man."

"I want to know why." John suddenly demanded. "Why did you do it?"

Sam turned his attention away from Dean and turned to face John now. "You mean, why did I have to kill pretty mommy Mary?"

At Johns nod Sam grinned. "Because they were in the way." he said simply.

"In the way of what?" Dean injected.

"My plans, for all my children." Sam said tapping his fingers on the table. "All my dear, special, children."

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?" Dean groaned shaking his head as best as he could. "Cause I really can't stand this damn monologuing."

"Funny." Sam said walking back to Dean. "But that's all part of your M.O., isn't it?" His face took on a mock of pity. "Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean said sneering. "What's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is…they don't need you." Sam said simply. "Not like you need them. Sam-he's clearly Johns favorite."

"Don't listen to him Dean." John said still struggling against the bonds holding him. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"Even when they fight, its more concern than he's ever shown you." Sam continued.

Dean blinked as he wiped the pain from his face away. "I bet you're real proud of your kids too, huh?" he smirked suddenly. "Oh, wait." he said lightly, his smirk widening. "I forgot. I wasted 'em."

Dean took on a real smile as Sam stared at him, as if he was studying a science experiment in front of him. He stepped back and brought his head down, as if he was in some sort of pain. Suddenly he looked up at Dean and the older brother screamed in pain.

"Dean!" John shouted, trying to jerk himself free. "No!"

Dean jolted against his bonds as blood started to well and drip down his chest in heavy clumps. He gurgled through the blood gathering in his throat.

"Leave him alone!" John yelled. "Leave him alone you son of a bitch!"

"Sammy!" Dean managed to shout through the blood. He glanced up at his brothers yellow eyes that were staring at him almost indifferently. "Sammy! Don't you let it kill me!"

Sam tilted his head to the side, the blood poured out of Dean's chest and when Dean coughed in an attempt to clear his throat of the blood it only succeeded in choking him further. Behind them John continued to try to get free.

"Brother." Dean whimpered through the blood. He barely managed to look up at the other. "Sammy." he managed to get out before he passed out.

Sam blinked before his head was yanked backwards and he let out a blood wrenching scream.

"Stop!" Sam yowled clutching at his head. "Stop!" John fell to the ground and he dived to the gun that was still on the table; the gun, the table, and he fell to the ground in a clutter.

His hand curled around it as Sam whirled around to face John, his eyes yellow once more. John brought the gun up and aimed it at Sam's forehead.

"You kill me, you kill Sammy." Sam said turning so that his entire body faced John.

John didn't say anything as he tried to will himself to pull the trigger.

Sam came forward suddenly with brisk steps. He quickly reached outwards and grabbed Johns arm. Bringing the other man forward he forced John to move the hand holding the gun until the barrel was being pressed against Sam's forehead.

"What now, John?" Sam whispered, his eyes yellows locking onto Johns brown eyes that were so similar to Sam's eyes. "What are you going to do?" His mouth spread into a smile. "Get your revenge for your loving wife? This quest, this driving reason for living for over twenty years?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Are you going to kill the thing that killed your wife at the cost of what she died trying to protect in the first place?"

Suddenly the smile morphed into an ugly smirk as he pressed Johns hand closer into his forehead. "Then again," he continued watching Johns rapidly paling face and counting the heavy breaths that barely managed to pass through John's lips. "Maybe you do know what you are doing. You know what Sam is, and what he is destined to be. Don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer as his eyes narrowed and he pushed forward harder to the point that the barrel was all but being pushed through Sam's skull.

"Like this, you'll spare Dean, what you were going to tell him what he was going to have to do." he said his own breath coming out in heavy and excited pants. "Maybe you'll be doing everyone a favor. Maybe you'd be saving Sammy a lot of suffering." His voice lowered to a whisper as he drove the gun deeper into his skin. "Maybe this is for the best." He grinned. "Your move, daddy."

"I'm sorry Sammy." John whispered. Sam's eyes barely had a moment to widen before John pulled the trigger. A flash of light rang throughout Sam's body as his head jerked back. There was a half scream that came from his throat before it dissolved into a soundless scream as he fell to the ground, his eyes wide and the bullet still embedded in his forehead.

John breathed heavily as he brought his arm down. The realization of what he had done caught to him at that moment and he couldn't help the sob the choked out of him.

It wasn't until screams of anguish rang through the air did he realize that Dean had regained consciousness.

It was nothing short of a miracle that John managed to wrestle Dean back into the car in order to take him to the closest hospital. His eldest son was fighting him the entire time, struggling even in his weakened state to try and get to his brothers lifeless body.

In the end John had to use one of the sedatives that they kept in the first aid kit. He clutched Dean close to him as Dean sobbed and cried and tried to claw his way back to Sam until the drugs kicked in and he slumped in exhaustion against his father.

The hospital was skeptical with the story that John came them, a bar fight with a group of guys, however they didn't ask that many questions once they saw the state Dean was in and thankfully they didn't call the police.

Dean was taken into surgery for the blood loss and John was left in the hallway counting back his sins and wondering just what he should do now.

For a second he thought of Adam and his mother Kate Milligan before he quickly banished the idea of both of them away. He glanced down at his shaking hands as disgust rang through him. Here he was, not even hours after killing his middle child and thinking of going to the normalcy of his youngest son and his mother. How could he even think of touching his youngest son when he had the blood of his second son covering his hands?

In a daze he found himself going to the payphone and calling Bobby, the old hunter deserved to know that the over twenty year cause of his was over and just what it had cost him.

"You mind running that by me again?" Bobby had demanded, his voice low and dangerous when John told him.

John didn't seem to be in control of his own body, he didn't remember going to the payphone, he didn't remember paying and talking, he didn't remember getting the cup of coffee that he was clutching in his hand, and he sure didn't remember repeating himself to Bobby about Sam being dead.

That he was the one who killed him.

He was left with a phone whose only sounds were a dial tone. He stood there frozen before he slowly brought it away from his ear and gently placed it back in its place.

His hand was shaking, he realized as he brought the coffee to his lips and drank slowly not noticing the heat from the liquid that seared his lips. His hand constricted suddenly and it crushed the Styrofoam cup burning his hand completely.

He didn't even notice the pain as he watched his hand. A cry tore free from his throat at that moment and for lack of anything else he grabbed the wooden chair that was sitting in the hallway and through it against the wall. The chair practically exploded into pieces.

With a bellow John fell to the ground. He began to punch the wall, never noticing his knuckles tearing and the bloodstains he left behind. He could hear people around him yelling and barking orders.

He felt a sharp prick in his arm before the world around him darkened and he fell into thankful oblivion.

By the time he woke up it was dark outside of the window once more and he was in a bed next to Deans.

Dean was awake and sitting straight. His eyes were red and heavily puffed as if he had spent hours simply crying. He wasn't looking at his father, even when John stirred and slid out of the bed sluggishly. John noticed the IV attached to Dean, more than one, and how Dean was practically tied to the bed.

"Son." John started.

Dean jerked back as if he had been burned.

"Don't." he warned lowly. It was the voice of the hunter that John had forged himself. It was the voice that the creatures of the night and those who preyed on humans had learned to fear and it was that voice that John now faced. "Don't say. A fucking word to me. I hear anything from you, so help me God, I will not be able to hold myself back."

John wisely didn't say anything, he simply nodded as he leaned against his bed.

Dean's hands were tightly curled so the point that John could see Dean's nails had penetrated the skin of his palms and they were steadily bleeding onto the white sheets.

"I'll never forgive you for this." Dean said still not looking at him. His entire body seemed to be shaking with the desire to fight, maybe even kill his father. "Nothing, you ever do. Is going to make me forgive you."

John still didn't say anything, he didn't even glance from the floor.

In all honesty, there was nothing he could say.

Dean discharged himself that next afternoon. John didn't find out until he walked into Deans room and found it empty. He ran to the entrance and found Bobby already there clutching at Dean who had all but buried himself into the other man's arms. Dean's entire body shook as he sobbed, openly and close to the entrance of the hospital.

John rode back to the warehouse in Bobby's truck as Dean and Bobby took the impala. He was sure that if he was alone with either man he would end up dead.

He wouldn't even fight back.

Dean's sobs came back when they entered the warehouse and found Sam's body still in the same position it was when it died. His eyes were still open, his limbs awkwardly positioned, the bullet still visible, and his body starting to rot.

"Don't touch him!" he howled at John when the man started to go to his son. "If you fucking touch him I'll fucking kill you!"

Dean clutched Sam to his own body tightly. He had closed Sam's eyes and was petting Sam's hair as he did when they were children. Bobby was sitting close to him, looking more down casted and in pain than John had ever seen him.

For lack of anything else to do John started to gather wood from around the warehouse to start a pyre. He tried not to listen as Bobby tried to coax Dean to let Sam go and start the proper humeral pyre.

"He didn't want this life!" Dean all but shrieked. "He didn't want this! Why should he be treated like that in death!?"

In the end Dean still knew why it had to be done. Sammy deserved his rest and if something kept his soul to earth he wouldn't get it. This way Sam would be able to enter heaven and be with Mary and Jessica once more.

Dean had prepared the body himself; when Bobby had tried to help Dean had snapped that he could do it, John didn't even attempt to get closer to him. The entire time Dean was choking on his own words and sometimes he would lean against the wall or floor or any solid surface he could reach and simply sob.

Dean's hands had shaken too much to add the gasoline and salt, Bobby gently took those materials from him and laid them over the covered body. However, it was Dean that leaned down and took Sam's body into his arms. He laid Sam down gently onto the top of the wood and leaned down to press his lips to Sam's covered forehead.

John suddenly had a vision of the last twenty two years. From the moment that Sam was born and placed into Deans arms Dean had immediately kissed his brother on the forehead. Every night he and Mary had placed the boys to sleep Dean would kiss Sam on the forehead.

Then as they grew up and John all but forced Dean to become Sam's main caretaker, every night Dean would continue to kiss Sam's forehead to get him to go to sleep.

And now, here he was. Kissing Sam's forehead one last time.

Telling Sam goodbye.

Bobby was the one that started the fire and all but dragged Dean back with him to stand and watch as the fire grew. Besides the splintering of the wood the only sounds that filled the air was Deans cries. Bobby placed his arm around Dean's shoulders and Dean collapsed against the older man however he didn't take his eyes off the pyre.

Neither of the men had anything to say, there was nothing they could get past their throats. Once the fire died down and the only thing that remained was ashes Dean stalked to the impala and got into the car. He revved the engine once before he turned it off, got out, and leaned against the car, his arms bracing against the door and his head bowed.

When Bobby went to him Dean didn't even look at the other hunter before giving him the keys and getting into the back seat. He fell onto the seats and closed the door behind him. Through the window John could see Dean curling up in the back seat of the car.

Bobby didn't spare John another glance as he got into the driver's seat of the impala and started the engine. The car drove off onto the highway with neither occupant looking back at him.

John stared as the impala drove off, his hands in his pockets. He drew his gaze upwards and sighed as he closed his eyes and fell to his knees. He then continued to fall backward until he was sitting on the ground.

He took a deep breath and finally gave a cry as he brought a hand to his face and began to cry.

He had no idea what to do now.

I do not own Supernatural. I very much might continue this to make a verse of its own. What do you guys think?