Author's note: Uninteresting detail: I was watching, of all things, 'A woman named Jackie' and heard the line "I have a rendezvous with death" which of course led my overly obsessed mind to think of Dean and this came out in about 10 minutes. It's unbeta'd and it probably sucks and I doubt anyone is going to bother reviewing these few words, but here it is.
But I've a rendezvous with death.
At midnight in some flaming town.
When Spring trips north again this year.
And I to my pledged word are true.
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
(I have a rendezvous with Death - Alan Seeger)
Rendezvous.
Time was up. It was as simple as that. For all the promises that had been made, for all the hope he'd had, time was up. It had been for nothing. There was no miracle, no higher power, no salvation. He was going to die. And he was going to hell.
When he'd made that deal a year ago, he'd known what he was doing. What he was getting into. What he was giving away. Giving up. Whatever the cost, it was worth it if it would bring his little brother back to him. Yet, he'd never really imagined what it'd feel like to sit on a ragged bed, in a no-name motel, with an hour to go and nothing to say.
But here he was.
Here they were.
They, because Sam was here. Like he had been the whole year. He'd been up and down, angry and frustrated, goofy and impossible, but there. Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to express in words what that meant to him. And now they were sitting here and time was crawling but flying and the day had disappeared into forever. Midnight was nearing and death was looming and hell was waiting.
And here they were.
"Dean."
He looked to the side, saw Sam staring at him and knew in that moment that this was why he'd done it. This is why he was sitting here, waiting for death to knock on wood. Sam. He took a deep breath, stared into green depths and saw everything he already knew.
"Don't."
Sam's expression didn't change. Tired eyes already expecting this answer.
"But, Dean.."
"Sam. Whatever you want to say...it's not important. Not now. Not anymore. I know."
A glimmer of surprise, of relief. Of doubt. And a look of complete desolation.
"Do you?"
He smiled a small smile. One of those smiles that always seemed to go hand in hand with sadness.
"Yeah, Sammy. I do."
There were no more tears, although there would be soon.
"How can I let you go?"
This he could smile at. This he knew. This was home.
"Not much choice in the matter."
The younger didn't even attempt a smile. Didn't attempt an act of bravery. Simply let the tears fall.
"I can't, Dean. I can't let you die. I don't know how to... I don't know how to do any of it without you."
Dean couldn't pull his eyes away from his brother's face. Wouldn't if he could. He had mere minutes and he wouldn't spend them any other way.
"You'll be fine."
A small shake of his head.
"No, I won't."
Sam broke the contact this time, turned his head to stare at the wall straight ahead. Dean let a heavy sigh disrupt the silence. He'd taken care of this kid his entire life. Why would he stop now?
"Yes, you will. Eventually, you will."
He stopped then, because they were empty words, even if they would turn out to be true. Empty, because he wouldn't be there to make sure of it. He'd broken his promise and this was his punishment. Not the dying part, not the going-to-hell-part. This. Sam's despair.
"Dean?"
He fought the urge to let his fingers fist in the floppy brown hair. It wasn't time yet.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
The words were spoken casually, Sam still staring at the wall.
Dean smiled and stared at the same spot.
"I know."
And the minutes ticked on and death was looming and hell was waiting.