AN: This is a fic set in season three, and this chapter takes place with about two months before Dean's deal is up. More chapters will come soon- I intend to have the whole fic up within a week of posting this chapter. No warnings out of the ordinary for this chapter. I will include warnings in an AN at the beginning of each. Enough rambling from me now, enjoy the fic and please let me know what you think! Comments are open, and if you don't want it to be so public, I welcome chatting with any of you lovely people!

The black windows of the abandoned factory seemed to stare at Sam and Dean as they crossed the parking lot outside, as if the spirit of the witch they had just killed was still inside, staring, promising vengeance. She had been a nasty one - casting hexes on doors and passageways to confuse people and cause them to kill the person they loved most. Bitch to catch too… She had led them on a chase halfway across the country and almost caused Dean to kill Sam before they had caught up to her.

Dean popped the trunk of the car and placed the blade he had used back inside after wiping it clean. Sam followed him, sliding into the impala and slamming the door. Dean slid in next to him with a smirk on his face.

"It's not funny, Dean." Sam turned to his brother, who had started laughing. "Dean! Seriously?"

"Sam, this is the third supernatural thing this month that has died and taken one of your shoes with it. You have to admit, it's like hell has banded together to steal your shoes." Dean wasn't even trying to hold in his laughter now. "I can see it now, the posters strung up… Advertising a promotion straight to torturer as soon as you get there if you can provide the shoe of Sam Winchester!"

"Not. Funny." Dean only laughed harder at Sam's level 9 bitchface. Sam sighed, finally giving in to the laughter - it really was infectious. Now that he thought about it though, it was quite humorous. The first demon had come while they were asleep, trying to surprise them. It had grabbed one of Sam's shoes to tease him with, but Dean had killed it and the shoe had disappeared with it. The second one had decided to take Sam captive while he was getting takeout. It had been in the process of putting on one of Sam's shoes to try to fool Dean when Dean had showed up behind it to send it back to hell. It had disappeared with Sam's jeans and the shoe. Finally, the witch had tried to drag Sam around a corner by the shoe, and Dean had stabbed her just in the nick of time. The shoe had disappeared as she died.

"Where to next, Sam? I saw a job over in Florida… We could use a vacation. Right now especially." Dean glanced at him as he pulled out of the lot, merging onto the interstate to get to the next town. They would stay the night wherever they ended up.

"Right now? What's that supposed to mean? Vacations aren't exactly in the job description." Sam stared straight ahead. He refused to look at Dean.

"Sammy… You know what I'm talking about. We only have so much time left before…" Dean let his voice trail off.

"Before we find the next job and are working again. Right. Vacation it is." Sam turned his head away to stare out the window. The line at the side of the road flew by. He concentrated on it.

"We can't avoid the topic forever, Sam." Dean sighed. "I hate the mushy stuff more than you do, and even I know we need to talk about this. Those fucking hellhounds are soon gonna be on our asses, and we need to plan where we want to be when they catch us - when they catch me. Where you're gonna bury me, the hunters' funeral, all that shit."

"I'm not gonna let you die! Why the hell did you have to go make a deal with a demon for anyway- you knew what would happen!" Sam had whirled to face Dean now, and Dean's fingers were clamped tightly around the steering wheel. "Don't you know I can't live while you die, while you are down there? We're brothers, Dean. Didn't you know what this would do to me when you had to… go?"

"How the hell do you think I felt when you did die, huh? You think I don't understand?" Dean watched the road and made a reckless lane change before taking a heavy breath. "You think I didn't go through the exact same thing when I held you as you died with a fucking knife in your back?"

Dean was shouting now, but Sam didn't care. It wasn't fair of Dean to do this… he should have left him dead. It was all he deserved. Everyone he got close to died; it would be better for the world if he were still wherever he had gone that time when he had died. Heaven or hell, at least no one would get hurt because of him.

"So you thought it would be nice to make a deal, make me feel guilty because now you're dying for me, and then put me through what you were going through? Really feeling the love here, Dean!" Sam was trying to hold back the tears that threatened in his eyes. "I swear, I'm not gonna let you die."

"If I don't die, you'll turn up dead again! Sam, let me do this. I'm not gonna go down easy, but you gotta promise you won't try to stop them. Please, Sammy. For me." Dean still didn't look at him, but Sam could have sworn he saw the sparkle of a tear glittering down Dean's face.

"No, Dean. I swear; I'll do anything. Anything for you. But not that." Sam looked at him beseechingly. "Anything but that… I don't think I could just stand by while the hellhounds drag you away. You've saved my life too many times for that."

"You mean that? Anything?"

"Anything but that. I swear, Dean, I do. Just name it."

"I… Sam, I don't want both of us to end up in hell. Let me take this fall. I dragged you back to this life - I owe it to you to give you another chance at it."

"Let me try. Let me try to keep you safe, and I'll do anything." The tears were flowing freely down Sam's face now, though Dean kept his in check. "Name the price. It couldn't be worse than losing you like that, knowing I never tried."

"We'll run. We'll try to avoid them as long as possible, and you can do whatever research shit you do. In return… I'll have to think about this one, Sammy. I don't have a lot of experience with death wishes."

"Fuck Dean, don't call it that. Call it a… repayment for a favour or some crap like that." He turned his head to the window, his tears beginning to slow as he planned what books he would need. "Let me know when you know what you want. Anything. I swear."

"Yeah yeah, get out one of those maps you are so fond of and find us a cheap motel, would you? A brother's gotta sleep sometime." Dean started flipping through the tapes under the radio, looking for something upbeat that would keep him from losing it. Finding a tape, he shoved it in the player, swiping his cheek with the back of his hand to catch a tear as it slid down. The strains of 'Carry On My Wayward Son' by Kansas began to play through the speakers.

Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be peace when you are done.

Lay your weary head to rest,

Don't you cry no more.

Dean cranked the volume up, so loud he almost missed Sam speaking.

"Thank you, Dean."