Dean sat in the dim light of the crappy black and white TV and watched while Sammy, only a few feet away, slept stretched out on his bed. It was not the kind of peaceful rest Sammy deserved, but rather the same fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep he'd had nearly every night since Dean pulled him out of his normal life and back into the world of nightmares and things that go bump in the night.
Dean took a deep breath and drank from his flat, room-temperature beer. It may have been flat, but it still had some life in it, and he couldn't help but think that really he was a lot like his beer.
He felt flat, pushed down to the ground by the weight of the secret and his dad's last words, but he still had some life left in him. It might not be much, but whatever life was left would have to be enough, it just would have to be.
'Watch out for Sammy.' Those words were comfortable; they made sense; they were such an ingrained part of Dean's psyche that it was like those stupid fitness video people who were always reminding you to breathe. It went without saying. It was just natural.
Dean's problem was the rest of what his dad said. The rest of it was so foreign to him so wrong he couldn't even comprehend it. It was like when he first started to learn Latin from Pastor Jim…oh God Pastor Jim's gone too… none of it made any sense, it was all just meaningless sounds.
'You might have to kill Sammy'. Those words were the core of the problem. They just didn't belong together; the words 'kill' and 'Sammy' had no business being in the same sentence like that; it was just wrong. It's like that old bit about jumbo shrimp… Dean didn't know the technical name for it…Sammy would… but he knew the words didn't fit.
Dean glanced over and caught Sammy in a brief moment of stillness. He seemed so peaceful, so much at rest. For a half second Dean was jealous…when was the last time he had rested like that? Then Dean felt guilty for feeling that way and couldn't help but wonder. How does someone like Sammy become something evil…something worthy of being killed?
Dean had thought about it in the time since his dad told him this horrible secret. He had looked at it backwards, forwards, upside and down and it didn't make sense. He had secretly poked around Bobby's books late at night when no one was around, but didn't have a clue where to start and, naturally, came up with nada.
Then he heard his dad's voice screaming in his head. It was always screaming in his head 'you might have to kill Sammy!' Over and over, then he tried to push the voice away and think of something else.
However, he failed; he started to think about his dad again. The whole mess at the hospital filled him with dread.
He couldn't remember anything about when he was in a coma hanging by a thread…hell maybe there wasn't anything to remember at all… just dreams like sleeping, when he slept anymore.
Somehow he didn't believe that, but he tried to use it as a way to feel better. He told Sammy he had a pit in his stomach that something was wrong, and now, given a few days to think about it, he was pretty sure he knew why: His dad had made a deal, had given himself up to a demon…probably The Demon…just to keep Dean alive.
He had thought at one point about talking to Sammy about it. Sammy had asked him enough times, reached out to him and wanted Dean to open up. In truth, a part of Dean wanted to, wanted to open up this time, but he was afraid he couldn't trust himself.
Dean was afraid if started talking about how he felt, his theories about what happened to their dad and whatever else that it would all come out of him before he could stop, and Dad made him promise not to tell Sammy.
Besides, he knew the secret was messing with him, pulling him down, dragging him down, and making him something he didn't want to be, and he didn't want to inflict that on Sammy.
Sammy had been through enough, had enough loss, and had enough nightmares without having to know what was hanging over his head.
How would Sammy react if he knew? Dean didn't want to find that out. It was hard enough for him watching out for Sammy, watching his every move and listening to every word and tone that came out of his mouth. Searching, always searching, for a sign that it was happening.
Every raised voice, every angry moment made Dean's stomach tighten and made him worry that it was happening.
In many ways, the waiting was the worst part. He had no idea when it was going to happen. When the Sammy he had loved and protected for most of his life would be replaced by something evil, something dangerous, 'you might have to kill Sammy.'
Then he tired to remember what else Dad had told him—the only part of it that gave Dean the slightest bit of hope. 'You have to save him.' Save him, saving Sammy that made more sense. That was what Dean was all about, that was his purpose in life, to protect and save Sammy. To stand between him and whatever horrible crap life tried to throw at him. To take the brunt and keep him safe, that's what big brothers were for, especially in the Winchester family.
How? It always came back to that. Dean wanted to save him, would do anything to save him, but how? How do you save someone when you don't even know what you're saving them from or when it's going to happen?
Still he had to save him. Dean knew he had to, there were just no two ways about that one; the alternative was just too awful to even consider: 'you might have to kill Sammy.' 'Shut up Dad!' Dean's inner voice shouted. 'Please God, just shut up Dad…'
Maybe he was wrong. Dean had considered that, maybe Dad was mistaken. There was a time when Dean would have difficulty considering such a thing, but Sammy had helped him see that Dad wasn't always right; he didn't always know what was best and didn't always have to be obeyed without question.
Could he be wrong? Could the information be faulty? Could someone with their own plans have misled him? Maybe… but Dean had decided some time ago that it wasn't likely. Dad was human, he made mistakes, but he was also careful and would have checked out his information before saying anything. He would have been sure before…
Dean shook his head and took another deep, long drink of his beer. Could he even do it? Dean had asked himself that question before, a lot of times really, and he just didn't have an answer… at least not one that would allow him to sleep at night.
Honestly, he wasn't even sure. Killing Sammy that would be…. be like someone asking him to flap his arms and fly or something. It would be impossible. Still how could he let him suffer, let him become something that Dean would know the real Sammy would hate, something that would kill and hurt innocent people?
Of course, how could he go on after having to do something like that? How could Dean live with himself? Go on seeing Sammy's face and seeing what he would have to do every time he closes his eyes? How could he kill the one person he loves the most in whole world and continue on?
Dean started thinking about the old war movies Dad used to watch. He remembered the stuff in them about those Japanese pilots; the ones who would go on the suicide missions… the Kamikaze guys. That seemed like an option now; take out evil Sammy and himself. Dying together, that seemed natural, it seemed right.
Then he thought about the yellow-eyed bastard, the one who started this whole mess. The one who came into their lives and wrecked everything as sure as that semi crashed into Dean's car and wrecked them.
What if Sammy turned before Dean could stop The Demon? Would it be right for Dean to take himself out of the coming war and risk letting that bastard win? There were others, other hunters, and other special kids… He and Sammy weren't so unique; the war could go on without them.
Suddenly, Dean had a flash. He had those from time to time, since he nearly died in that hospital. It was like he had heard, or maybe spoke, those words before. There was something familiar and yet not familiar about them.
Sometimes he could swear he would start remember something, and then it was gone. Sometimes there was a name but it was always just on the tip of his tongue and he could never quiet get it out.
He had already stopped trying to force himself to remember, there was little point since it never worked… he had a feeling that there was something important…something he should remember, but he just couldn't. Another of life's little 'screw you, Winchester' moments, there were a lot of those in Dean's life.
Dean used to think that the only good thing in his life that wasn't tainted with a 'screw you' from life was Sammy, but now even he was tainted by it as well.
First, he tells Dean he has weird visions and nightmares that come true. Dean managed to deal, it was harder than he would ever let on to Sammy, but Dean loved him, and he had to keep that in mind, no matter how scary it was or painful to watch.
Then they both find out that there are others like Sammy out there, but the one they found was a mad dog killer, driven by a life of abuse and fear to take lives. That one was harder on Sammy than it was on Dean, at least directly, but Dean felt what Sammy must have been going through, and he felt so much pain for Sammy.
As if all that wasn't bad enough, The Demon, inside their own Dad, (Dean would never forget the image of his own dad's face, the sound of his own dad's voice hurting him, not just physically but wounding him emotionally, deep inside, the fact that The Demon was in his own dad was the worst part of it all) tell them that he had plans for Sammy and the others.
Life was full of screw you moments for anyone born with Winchester blood, and sometimes they seemed never ending. Maybe their death would be their own way, their only way, to find any measure of peace.
Dean shook his head again and took another big drink. Deep down he wasn't sure he could do that. That's the coward's way out, he knew that, he might not be religious, but he knew that taking your own life like that was wrong. It's one thing to lay down your life for a greater good, but that wasn't the same.
More and more he felt like his only hope, as faint and undefined as it might be, was to save Sammy, stop it before it started.
Sometimes he wondered… wondered if Sammy would be better off if they just left. The Demon couldn't use Sammy in his plan if Dean and Sammy hid out. They knew how to be under the radar, they knew how to disappear; they could just go and never come back.
The world would keep on turning just fine without them. Others would step up and fight this stupid war, whatever form it took. Where was it written that they had to give up everything, including their own lives, give up everyone they love? Who died and made them the saviors of the world?
Then he remembered his mom. She died and it was the beginning. Would they be having all this trouble now if she had never died?
Probably, Dean thought bitterly and glanced over at Sammy, now having another fitful moment. It's not about her, not really, it's about Sammy and his abilities.
He would never allow Sammy to blame himself and would have decked anyone else if they had even started to say something like that out loud.
It wasn't Sammy's fault. Dean knew that. It's not like Sammy asked to be born with the visions and the nightmares that haunted him asleep or awake, just like the secret and John's words even now haunted Dean asleep or awake.
For the first time, Dean had a taste of the torment that Sam had experienced all this time. The sound of Dad's voice screaming in his skull until he thought he would go insane or the dreams of his dad urging him to kill Sammy when he was asleep.
Now they were both haunted, neither of them would have a moments peace, at least not as long as they lived. Then Dean thought about dying again.
Sometimes that thought taunted him. He could end both of their suffering now. He knew what he was doing; he knew how to do it so that Sammy wouldn't feel a thing.
One clean shot followed by another and they could both know peace at last. Damn him, he knew he couldn't. He loved Sammy too much to do that while there was still a chance, no matter how fleeting, that he could pull Sammy through it all.
These thoughts continued to swirl. Dean knew, deep down, that he was going in circles like some demented carnival ride, but he couldn't stop himself, the ride was never-ending and he wasn't in control.
He had decided a million times that saving Sammy was his only option. He had to pull off one of his amazing saves, come up with some brilliant plan the evil bastards didn't see coming and pull off some miracle victory.
Miracles. Not exactly something Dean was a big believer in. How could he be? Hard to believe in something when you have never encountered it, all he had seen was evil, hard times, and—of course—the screw you moments.
It was during times like these that the loneliness sank in. Sammy and Dean only had each other now, Winchesters versus the world, and it made saving Sammy that much harder and all the more important.
Sure they had Bobby, the man was like an uncle to them and the closest thing to a father in their lives now that their dad was gone, but it wasn't the same. Sure he cared for them like they were family, and they felt the same, but it wasn't the same really.
Dean wanted help, but he knew this was family business, and he just didn't feel right turning outside the two of them for help, not anymore than he felt right about telling Sammy what was coming.
As much as Dean hated it, as much as he felt it slowly wearing him down, he was alone in this. As if to reinforce this notion, Dean looked around the crappy little motel room they were in now.
Dean felt as if he was the only person in the world, the last man standing. Then he heard Sammy moan and looked over. Not alone yet, not totally, but what if it came to that?
Dean couldn't even think about that, not now. Loosing Sammy to school was hard enough, that ate him up so much on the inside, but loosing him to evil…or to death, that would be a thousand times worse.
Sometimes Dean couldn't help but think about a line from Star Wars. It was supposed to be funny, a cute little throwaway gag, but it never was that to him. To him it was real, something he could relate to. 'We seem to be made to suffer; it's our lot in life.'
'Damn right, C3PO,' Dean thought. It's a Winchester man's lot in life to suffer, that was all there was too it. All he and Sam and their dad could ever do was survive, try and make the best of it, find some good in it.
Good. That was something Dean didn't see much of either, like miracles. He had seen it and known fleeting bits of happiness, but life's little screw you moments always messed it up.
Cassie. He had loved her, loved her so much he told her the truth. Told her what his family did, what they were about, and she freaked and put an end to it. That had hurt almost as much as Sammy leaving for school.
It would have hurt more, but he had already started to put up emotional armor, to protect himself from that kind of hurt. That and of course, as much as he loved her, he loved his family more. No one can hurt you more than those who you love the most.
Suddenly, he was remembering The Demon inside John again. That was a memory he tried so hard to forget, but it still kept creeping up from the darkest corners of Dean's brain to bite him on the ass.
The image of his dad's face twisted by evil and hate, yellow eyes shining as his voice gleefully talked about tearing Dean apart. Begging his dad to make it stop, to not let the thing that killed his mother and ruined his family take him too.
The physical pain was far out weighed by the emotional pain he felt; no matter how much he had tried to hide it.
Dean could feel it all as if it was happening then and there. The words, like barbs, ripping into his heart, he knew, deep down, that the things The Demon said weren't true. He knew it, but it didn't make the words any less painful.
Protective brother to the last, Dean sucked it up and taunted The Demon, did everything he could to keep the bastard away from Sammy, and he gladly took the brunt of the thing's attention. What else could he do?
Then, as always, he remembered his dad, the way he really was, in the hospital before he suddenly died. Talking to Dean about when Dean was a kid.
He didn't fully realize it at the time, but now he knew, John was trying to repair the emotional wounds The Demon left. Trying to make sure that Dean knew the words were lies and that he shouldn't… couldn't let them get under his skin.
It was more than that though, John was also trying, as best as he could, to prepare Dean's mind for the secret, the dirty little secret, and what it could mean.
That always made Dean wonder. How long had his dad known? How long did he carry this terrible weight? Did he know it for years? Was that why he insisted on visiting Sammy at school without his knowledge, to make sure he wasn't tormenting small animals or committing serial murders between classes?
Dean preferred to think that Dad was visiting out of love, that's the reason in his mind anyway. Dean preferred to believe that John didn't know this horrible secret for that long. That he learned it while Sam and Dean were looking for him all those months. It made Dean feel better to think that their dad wasn't carrying that burden all of that time, all the way back to years ago.
Dean always believed that his dad was stronger than him, not just physically, but inside too, despite that he couldn't bare the thought that Dad had that secret inside him for years and had to deal alone.
Did Dad have the voice of whoever told him screaming inside his skull too? Did it haunt him day and night like it was haunting Dean now? Whose voice was it? Bobby's, did Bobby know? Missouri, was she the one who saw it in the future? Someone he didn't even know? He and Sammy didn't even know about the Roadhouse until after John died and then only because of a message on a cell phone of his.
Could there be someone out there who told John? Someone who knew? Someone who might know more? Does that even matter? Would they have any way to find them? What if it was Pastor Jim or even Caleb? They lost them too; just more names on the wall of the fallen that existed in Dean's mind, those who had given their lives fighting evil.
The more Dean's mind went in these circles of thoughts, the more he liked the idea of just packing up and taking off, him and Sammy laying low somewhere far, far away.
Let the others sort it out. Let the other hunters fight evil and stop The Demon. Screw the family business crap, it's not family business, hadn't been since that day in Saginaw when Max Miller told Sammy about his own mother's death.
Why can't some other hunter and some other special child with a destiny of evil fight the good fight for a change? Why did it always have to be them on the front lines?
Again, Dean knew, deep down, that was a dead end. He knew, if he admitted it to himself, that they could go to the ends of the Earth, even with his fear of flying, and it would still find them. Winchester luck, Winchester life, run all you like, but wherever you go there you are. You can't escape from yourself.
Some say you can't escape destiny either. Dean wasn't sure. He wanted to believe that there was no such thing as destiny, that everyone had choices, could pick their own path and make their lives what they want. Not a Winchester of course, but other people, normal people.
Where does that leave Sammy then? If a Winchester can't shake their destiny then where does that leave poor Sammy? Does he have to become some sort of evil thing? Does Dean have to kill him and suffer the ultimate screw you from the world?
'No!' Dean shouted inside in head. He can't… he won't let that happen. He will do whatever it takes to keep it from getting that far. He once told Sam that what he wouldn't do, who he wouldn't kill to protect his family scared him, and it did, but now he had to rely on it to save them both.
So, he was back to square one, back to the idea of saving Sammy whatever it takes. Is there a price that's too high? Is there a line he can't cross to save Sammy? Normally, no but then he thought about Dad and what Dean believed he must have done for him.
He wasn't sure, of course, what happened, but it wouldn't take a genius to work it out. He and Sam hadn't talked about it out loud, not in so many words, but Dean was pretty sure it was what happened, and was just as sure that Sammy had reached the same conclusion.
Dean learned something from that. He learned there is such a thing as too far, there is a point where love and protection takes on an almost selfish level, a level where it's more about the protector and what they want than it is about the person they love and their well being.
If their dad had done what Dean suspected, and he had little doubt that he had, how could he have expected Dean to live with that? How could he have expected that Dean wouldn't figure it out, and that it wouldn't do exactly what it's done?
If it took such an extreme measure to save Sammy, would it be worth it? Would Sammy end up resentful, angry, and sad just like Dean did after Dad? Could Dean put Sammy through that just so he wouldn't have to loose Sammy like he lost so many others?
That's the whole point though isn't it? That's the meat of the situation. Dean's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't but so much more. They're both damned either way, no good way out except a tiny sliver of a hope that they can avoid the whole thing entirely, something Dean doesn't even know how to do.
Bottom line: he has to find a way to save Sammy or it all goes to hell for them both. That's where all of these thoughts keep taking him to the one inescapable conclusion; the only way out is figure out how to save him.
Despite reaching this conclusion, for the millionth time, he didn't feel any better. Dean's a realist; he knows enough to know that he doesn't know enough.
That line always made Dean's head hurt, but now he understood it on a level he had never been able to before. Not only did Dean not know enough to save Sammy, he didn't know enough to know where to start to find out.
Over the years he and Sammy and their dad had managed to find all kinds of information all over that normal people wouldn't even know existed, but how the hell was he supposed to find out anything without a place to start? It's not like a Google search would help him find the information.
Just then Sammy moaned slightly and Dean looked over. Sammy was starting to have another nightmare, a normal one Dean hoped and not one of his visions. It was just starting, and Dean was tempted to wake him up before he got too bad.
Like a lot of things however, he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. If it was a vision he would have to have the whole thing, all waking him up would do is make Sammy more aware of the pain, so he waited.
Putting his now empty beer bottle aside, Dean rubbed his weary and bloodshot eyes. It was all too much. Bad enough Sammy had to suffer with these visions and the headaches, but now, now that Dean couldn't sleep much anymore, he had to watch it.
Dean hated watching Sammy suffer like that, but no matter how much he fought to turn his head, to look away, he could still hear the moans, the pain, and the fear and had to fight against ever fiber of his being to stop from running over and walking Sammy up, trying to do something, anything to stop the suffering.
Would Sammy welcome death? Dean had wondered that before, but never allowed his mind to dwell on it. The idea that Sammy would welcome death, would be glad to die, was too much for Dean to even consider.
The very idea made Dean sadder than anything else ever had. Sammy, to him, was innocence, he was hope, he was goodness and the idea that someone like that could ever welcome death just made Dean feel cold, empty, and hopeless like nothing else could.
Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How in the hell did things get so messed up? How did things get so bad? How did they get so… complex? Dean missed the days when it was just him and Sammy out on the open road hitting random towns, hunting evil, maybe hooking up with the locals (well Sammy normally didn't), and riding out of town just before the local sheriff threatened to run them out.
When did all of that go away? When did the job get so personal? Sure it all started out to get revenge for Mom's death, that was always personal, but the evil around them never effected them directly, it never was after them for any reason other than that they were there.
Now the evil knew their names, were out to bag a Winchester and worse than that. It wasn't just out kill them, it was inside one of them threatening to break loose like that thing in 'Alien' and make the little brother Dean loved into some thing he wouldn't even recognize, make him into the things they used to hunt.
Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was simple anymore. Everything was so complex. Everything was so twisted.
Dean looked up, out the front window. Just outside his beloved Impala was parked beckoning him, begging him to take to the road. He could almost hear a voice tell him to wake up Sammy, pack up their stuff and drive like a bat out of hell somewhere, anywhere, nice and far away.
'Already thought of that,' Dean's inner voice said to the other voice, 'won't work. Weren't you listening a Winchester can escape from their destiny. Everyone else can, they can make their life whatever they want (realize it or not) but not a Winchester. Winchesters were marked and because of that had to walk a path of darkness with no hope of escaping.'
Then the Impala-voice became hostile. 'Why?' It asked, 'Why did you attack me, why did you hurt me? It wasn't me you were angry with… it was John. I'm only connected to him because he gave me to you!'
Dean winced, that wasn't exactly his proudest moment, 'You were there, and he wasn't… if it hadn't have been you, it would have been…'
'Sammy,' the voice finished, 'you've thought about it. You thought about it, nearly did it didn't you?'
'Yes,' Dean's inner voice said weakly, 'I have.' Then Dean thought about those moments where his rage almost took him somewhere he wouldn't want to go. The images of hurting Sammy, the pain of having to look at him and see proof of his crime and have it mock him, the worry of sensing Sammy flinch whenever he made a sudden move.
'It was you or him, and you were easier to fix.' Dean thought simply. That seemed to placate the voice, at least for the time being.
Dean continued to look out the window and saw it slowly getting lighter and lighter outside. It was dawn already.
This was the first time he had seen dawn like this since that time he and Sammy were in Oasis Planes, Oklahoma. That time dawn was a sign they would live, it was the end of the curse, until next year, and he and Sam and the Pike family they were trying to save would actually live.
This time all it really meant was that Dean had gone another night without sleep. Then thinking about it, Dean realized it was more than that. The sunrise also represented a new day, another chance, maybe a chance to make things better, a chance to do whatever it took to keep Sammy safe, to keep him alive.
Dean was suddenly taken aback by the streak of optimism that had just made its way across his mind like a flaming comet.
Was there really a part of his mind that thought that? A part of his mind that thought maybe there was a light at the end of tunnel? A way for them to survive this mess they suddenly found themselves in? A way for Dean to play hero one more time, one time when it really mattered most to him, and save Sammy just like their dad had said?
Yes! Why not? Why couldn't there be a way? Why couldn't Dean be the hero? He sure as hell played hero and saved the lives of enough strangers and near strangers. Why not his own brother?
It almost seemed that the more the sun came out, the more Dean began to regain some measure of hope. It was almost as if the light of the sun gave him his inner strength, like how Superman got his powers.
Maybe… just maybe he could pull it off after all, if anyone could. Why not him? Maybe Dad knew Dean had what it took, deep down, even if Dean himself was not so sure. Maybe Dad had been much wiser and much slyer than even Dean had given him credit for.
Maybe Dad knew that Dean was the only one who could really save Sammy and he knew that if Dean had died that chance… that hope… would die with him. Maybe that's why Dad took such extreme measures, not just out of love for Dean, not just because he would rather die than loose anyone else (although Dean could relate to that himself now). Maybe he did it to save them both.
Maybe Dad made his deal with the enemy so that Dean would still be alive and able to save Sammy when the time came, so Sammy wouldn't have to die either.
Dean wasn't sure why, but somehow that new thought—that thought that had never crossed his mind, at least that fully formed and acknowledged, made him feel better. It was as if knowing that Dad had that much faith in him gave him the strength he needed to carry on.
Suddenly, he felt as if he could do it. He could save Sammy, he could kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon, hell he could save the freaking world like his fellow solar-powered pal Superman always did.
Dean knew, deep down, that this feeling probably wouldn't last. There would be a time when the doubt and the worries would seep back in and envelop the light, and he would be right back where he started. However, at the moment, right at that moment, he felt hopeful, unbeatable, heroic, all those things he often pretended to be to Sammy. His game face had become his real face, for once.
Sammy suddenly sat up really fast, jolted awake by his dream. "Having the Ringling Brothers dream again?" Dean joked in a tone that, for the first time in a long time, was actually authentic.
Sammy forced a thin smile and muttered, "No. I know where we need to go, Michigan. There's a girl…"
"Sammy," Dean smiled, "if you want a girl, there are plenty here in Lubbock."
Sammy gave Dean that irritated look he reserved for when Dean was being too flippant. "No," Sam managed. "She's in trouble. She's possessed and her family thinks she's insane. If we don't help her they're going to lock her away, and someone is going to get hurt."
"Say no more, Sammy." Dean said jumping up and grabbing his stuff. "Let's go save the day, then." Sam looked at Dean with a look of surprise. That was the most upbeat and like his old self he had seen Dean in long time.
"What's gotten into you?" Sam asked getting up and grabbing his stuff too. "Nothing," Dean said simply, "It's just today is a new day, and we got people to save. No time like the present."