He had lived so long. Despite the constant warfare of his life, he'd survived every near death experience. He was the kind of guy you'd expect to go down fighting. Yet here he lay, helpless and dying, in the dank gray room of the hospital. He stared at the ceiling without truly seeing anything. And Sam watched his brother die. The door opened and Sam jumped up as the doctor entered the room.
"How is he, doc?" he asked turning bright blue eyes onto the lab coat clad figure. The doctor sighed and looked at his clipboard.
"He's getting worse." Sam looked at his brother. Drool had started trickling from the corner of his mouth which hung half open.
"There has to be something we can do," he begged. The doctor shook his head.
"We didn't catch it in time. All we can do now is wait and pray." Sam laughed bitterly and looked at his brother as tears stung his eyes. The doctor left and Sam sank back into his chair.
"I failed you," he whispered. A small spasm shook his brother's hand.
Earlier that year
"What are you doing?" Clang!
"Son of a bitch!" Sam surveyed the kitchen with its open cabinets and neatly stacked dishes. Dean grumpily picked up the pan he'd just dropped and began scrubbing it vigorously.
"Are you organizing the kitchen?"
"Yeah. So?" Sam swallowed a laugh as he raised his eyebrows.
"Okay Mom. When you're done I have some laundry that needs to be done."
"Bitch." Sam smiled.
"Jerk." Sam had just left the kitchen when his phone started ringing. Dean let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't answer it!" he yelled. Sam answered it.
"This is Sam."
"Sam? Its… its Chuck." Sam's eyebrows shut up as Dean swung his 6'1" frame into the doorway.
"Chuck? Haven't heard from you for a while."
"Chuck?" Dean sounded surprised and disgusted. "Where has our very own bad news bearer been all this time?"
"Shh!"
"I'm tellin ya, Sammy, hang up now." Sam shook his head.
"You still there, Chuck?"
"Yeah. I… I know I haven't contacted you in a while but…there's something I have to tell you."
"What is it?"
"Is…Is Dean there?"
"Yeah. Do you want me to put you on speaker?"
"No! No its probably better if I just tell you. You're not gonna like this, Sam. Its…its real bad."
"What, Chuck?" Dean leaned in closer and Sam glared at him over his shoulder.
"Dean's gonna die…soon."
"What?" Dean jumped back. "How?"
"Whoa, Sammy. Be gentle with the man." Sam shot another angry glance at his brother.
"I…I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? You had a vision right?"
"Y…yes. Several."
"And what do they say?"
"What the hell is going on? What visions?" Dean's impatience had gotten the better of him.
"Well. They're all…they're all different. Different times, different places, completely different circumstances. But," Chuck sighed, "All with the same result. It's like Mystery Spot all over again," the author whispered and Sam cast a worried glance at his brother. Dean's brow furrowed.
"Give me the phone!" He tried to grab it but Sam sidestepped him and swiftly left the room.
"Tell me everything you've seen." Chuck began to describe each dream in detail as Sam made sure to
write it all down.
"That's…that's all."
"Thanks Chuck. Let us know if anything new comes up."
"I will." Sam hung up and put his head in his hands. Dean knocked on the doorway to the library where Sam sat.
"Everything okay?" he asked and without waiting for an answer slid into a chair beside Sam. Sam rubbed his hands over his face before pulling them through his hair with a sigh. He looked at Dean with his bright blue eyes full of misery.
"So what's the bad news?" Dean tried to speak in a lighthearted tone but Sam could always tell when he was worried.
"It's nothing," Sam mumbled. Dean let out a bitter laugh and waited. Sam couldn't think of what to say.
They sat in silence for a long time before Sam got up and dragged himself to his room. He fell asleep to the sound of pots and pans being angrily slammed into cabinets.
A month passed. Dean seemed happy to take a break from hunting and to settle in to a sort of home life inside the bunker. Sam hoped this new slower pace might stick but as a precaution he made sure to throw out any newspapers they received and hid his laptop away safe and sound where his brother couldn't find it. He hoped Dean wouldn't notice his desperate attempts to cut them off from the outside world but his brother wasn't stupid. Sam waited miserably for his brother to catch on. Finally the day came. Sam woke up to find his brother sitting at the table staring at Sam's laptop. For a moment, Sam froze and watched Dean in silent horror. Then, as if suddenly pushed from behind he leapt forward and slammed the laptop shut before whisking it away from his brother's greedy glances.
"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.
"Cool your jets, Sammy. I was trying to get us a case."
"I thought you wanted to take a break."
"I think we've rested long enough. C'mon let's get back in the game. What do ya say? Can't get fat now can we?" Sam's eyebrows drew together. Dean rolled his eyes. "By the way, Cas just called. Said he'd be stoppin' by in a bit."
"Well then, maybe we should wait for him before jumping into a case."
"Dude, its Cas. He could zap in here in a second. Might as well start scouting one out while we wait."
"Well, Cas might need our help with something. We should just wait."
"C'mon Sam, give me the laptop."
"No."
"Man, I'm so bored. It's been over a month since we've worked any sort of job and we've barely left the bunker other than to go grocery shopping. Let's go hunt some monsters!"
"Dean," Sam closed his eyes and sighed, "Just trust me on this."
"Trust you on what? What's going on, Sammy? Is this about what Chuck said?"
"Maybe."
"How can I trust you if you keep secrets from me?"
"You really want me to tell you."
"That or give me the laptop."
"No."
"Give me the laptop, Sam." Dean reached for it but Sam whisked it out of his grasp.
"No."
"What the hell is wrong with you? Give me the damn computer."
"Dean stop!"
"Why won't you tell me what's going on?"
"Why won't you leave it alone?" Dean swiped at the computer again and again Sam lifted it away from his brother.
"Give me the laptop!"
"Why are you so desperate for a case?"
"Because I'm bored!" Again he reached, again he failed. "Give it to me."
"No."
"C'mon!"
"You're gonna die, Dean!" Dean's hand which had been grasping for the computer again, fell. The brothers stared at each other for a moment.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Dean rushed out of the room and up the stairs to answer the door. Cas stood in the doorway, his clothes rumpled and dark rings under his eyes.
"Dean I…"
"Did you know about this?" Dean's violent outburst interrupted the confused angel's sentence. Cas stared at Dean for a second, taken aback by the question. He turned his surprised blue eyes down to Sam, who waited inside the bunker and stared up at the other two men. "Did you know that I'm supposed to die?"
"I suppose it's what humans do." Dean rolled his eyes and bounded back down the stairs to join Sam, leaving Cas to close the door behind him. He joined the two brothers inside.
"Hey Cas," Sam attempted a smile, "How are ya?"
"Alright, I guess. Is your brother okay? He said he was dying."
"I guess he doesn't know," grumbled Dean to Sam. He turned to Cas. "Supposedly Chuck saw my death. He called Sam about a month ago and Sam just decided to tell me."
"How?" Two pairs of curious eyes turned to Sam. He scratched the back of his head.
"I don't know."
"But the prophet," Cas said, "Didn't he have a vision?"
"Yeah. Several actually. Each of them different, but," he turned to Dean, "with the same result."
"My death." Sam nodded. "So what do we do?" asked Dean. Sam ran to the library and grabbed his list.
"I made a list of all the possible death visions he's had so far." He handed it to Dean who glanced at it briefly before handing it to Cas.
"This is quite extensive." Sam nodded.
"He calls me every time he has a vision. Although I haven't heard from him in a few days." As if on cue, Sam's phone began to ring. He winced. Dean shook his head.
"Don't answer it."
"Chuck," Sam answered it, "Okay…Alright…Thanks." He hung up and looked at Dean.
"Do you need me to write something down?" offered Cas. Sam shook his head.
"I can do it," he reached out his hand.
"What did he say, Sam?"
"It's nothing, Dean."
"Sam."
"He saw you in a car accident." Dean nodded.
"So I don't drive and I don't do," he glanced at the list, "any of the things here. Then I won't die."
"Yeah," challenged Sam, "And what about last time we tried to avoid this? To avoid Chuck's prophecy? We still ended up right back where he predicted."
"But we fixed it remember? And what about all those times we fought destiny and won? What about all those times we did exactly the opposite of what was foretold? We stopped the fricken apocalypse remember?"
"I know but…"
"So what do you think we should do?" Dean asked.
"Maybe we should just take a break. Just stay in the bunker for a little longer until Chuck's visions die down."
"And what, read books and let others do the hunting?"
"That's what the Men of Letters did?" Sam shrugged.
"Sounds thrilling." A sudden grumble coming from Cas' direction stopped the brothers mid-argument.
"Do you have anything to eat?" the angel pleaded.
Sam and Dean watched while Cas gobbled up two sandwiches and half a bag of chips. Neither of them spoke but they kept throwing each other worried glances. Finally Cas looked up.
"Is everything okay, Cas?" Sam asked.
"I suppose I should explain to you what is going on."
"That would be nice," Dean's voice was on edge.
"I've been cut off from heaven."
"Again?" Sam asked.
"Again."
"Why?" The brothers asked simultaneously. Cas sighed and stared at his empty plate.
"They told me I've been spending too much time with the humans. They've begun to question my loyalties."
"It's always the same with you angels. Isn't there something else you can bitch about?" Cas looked at Dean in confusion before continuing on as if he hadn't spoken.
"They gave me a choice."
"As per usual."
"They told me I could either be a human or stay in heaven forever as an angel."
"And you chose to be a human?" Sam was incredulous.
"Are you crazy? Do you even understand what that means?" Dean was just as surprised.
"I know," Cas looked back at his plate, "But to be cut off from humanity forever. That isn't what our Father would want."
"And your father is the role model of the century, right?"
"Dean," scolded Sam.
"What?" Sam shook his head.
"So what do we do now?" Cas asked.
"We wait."
It took only a month for Dean's patience to wear down. Days of constant worrying and waiting passed in an agonizing blur for the group. Sam could feel Dean's boredom and it mixed with his own fear making the very air seem dense and heavy. Finally the evening came when Dean burst.
Slam! His beer met the table with a heavy crash. A few drops sloshed over the side and with a sigh, Sam set down his own bottle and waited for the oncoming tirade.
"Maybe Cas is right," Dean said, "I mean dying is just a part of being human." Cas looked with wide eyes at Sam who shook his head. "Maybe it's time we accept that. If I'm gonna die I'm gonna die."
"Don't talk like that," Sam pleaded.
"Sammy, we can't sit around forever. I'd rather go down fighting than just waiting for death to come find me."
"But it's gotta end soon. The visions will stop and then we can go back to normal." Sam knew he was grasping at straws.
"And what if it doesn't? We just rot in this hole until we all die of boredom."
"Dean please. I can't…" The lump in his throat kept Sam from finishing.
"I know Sam. I'm not saying I want to die just maybe get back out there. Fight some monsters before I… you know."
"It would be better than dying here." Sam glared at Cas. No one asked you, he inwardly growled.
"No! No! I'm not gonna let you go kill yourself."
"It's not your choice. I'm gonna go whether you let me or not." He flew up from his chair and almost left the room, probably to find Sam's computer, when Sam spoke.
"Fine! You can go. But only if I go with."
"Works for me," Dean didn't even turn around.
"And, we can't be reckless okay. We have to stick together."
"That's fine."
"And," Sam hesitated, "I have to drive." Dean whipped back around.
"No."
"Dean." Dean looked at Cas for help but the former angel shrugged.
"Fine. But you can't mother me. You have to let me do some hunting."
"Fine."
"Fine." And so it was decided.
And they went on their first hunt for months. Sam tried his best not to hold too tightly to his brother but he couldn't help hovering. A couple of times Dean growled at him to back off but otherwise it was a pretty normal hunt. They came home both free of any scratches or bruises and both alive and breathing. Cas waited for them with peanut butter sandwiches and bottles of beer. And Sam even brought out his laptop to hunt down a new case. But they never got around to it.
"UUHH!" Sam looked up to see Dean dragging himself into the room He rubbed his hands over his face before pulling them through his hair, causing it to stand in all directions.
"You okay?" With a groan, Dean fell into a chair across from Sam and lay his head on the table.
"I have a headache," he whined. Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his reading.
"MMMMM," Dean moaned, "It won't stop pounding." Sam looked up.
"Have you tried taking something?"
"No, Sam," Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm, "I didn't think of that."
"What did you take?"
"Tylenol."
"How long has it been?"
"Like an hour ago. Are you done now mom?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows and hesitated before asking the next question.
"What'd you take it with?" Dean sighed and rolled his head to the side so his cheek now pressed against the table.
"A beer, okay?"
"Maybe you should lay off the alcohol for a little while."
"Ugh!" Dean threw his head back, "It's just a headache. It's not like it's gonna kill me." Sam sighed and went back to reading. Dean moaned.
"If you're not going to do anything about it, stop complaining," Sam reprimanded him without looking up from his book.
"I'm sorry my pain is annoying you."
"It isn't the pain that's annoying." With a huff, Dean tried to stand up. A weird scuffle caused Sam to look up and see Dean half fallen and clutching the table.
"Whoa," Dean laughed, "That was weird."
"What?" Sam felt strangely wary.
"I couldn't feel my leg there for a second." Sam stood up and made his way towards his brother. Dean held up his hand.
"Dude, I'm fine. I'll get it."
"Do you need me to call the doctor?"
"Sammy, people get sick. I'll be fine."
"Alright." Sam sat back down and watched his brother drag himself back to his room.
After a few hours, Sam began to worry. Dean never stayed in bed this long. Even Cas had woken up hours ago after catching up on centuries of much needed sleep. He had joined Sam in the library where they both sat silently studying books. Sam couldn't tell what book Cas had picked up but it looked to be in a different language. Perhaps Enochian. Sam wouldn't be surprised if the Men of Letters knew even the language of the angels. Sam put down his book and Cas looked up at him.
"I'm gonna go check on Dean," Sam informed him. Cas nodded and watched Sam leave. The door to Dean's room was closed so Sam knocked on it.
"Come in," Dean groaned. His voice slurred. Sam burst through the door.
"Dude, how much have you been drinking?" But there were no empty bottles by Dean's bed and he didn't look like he'd even sat up since he came back in here. Sam approached slowly.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked. Dean groaned and rolled over. Sam came around to the side of the bed and noticed a trash can full of vomit.
"Dude!" He scolded.
"Sorry," Dean tried to smile, "I was gonna tell you but I didn't feel like getting up." Or at least that's what he tried to say. To Sam it sounded more like a jumble of letters and half-finished words. His eyebrows drew together as he sat down. He reached out his hand to feel Dean's head. It didn't feel abnormally warm and Dean tried to swipe it away but his hand barely brushed Sam's.
"I'm calling a doctor," Sam decided and jumped to his feet.
"No!" Despite the change in Dean's speech, Sam understood his brother. Dean tried to smile. Sam hesitated and sat down at the foot of Dean's bed. He put his head in his hands. Inside his head a battle raged. He wanted desperately to help his brother as his brother had helped him so many times, but he didn't want to baby him. Dean was a grown man. He knew how he felt better than Sam could guess. If he didn't think he needed a doctor, he probably didn't. Sam felt the bedsheets shuffle and he turned to see Dean hunched beside him, his arm draped around his little brother. He smiled despite the pain in his eyes. Even sitting seemed an effort.
"I just want you to be okay," Sam whispered, "I need you…" Dean nodded with a wince that didn't escape Sam's notice.
"I'll be fine, Sammy," he slurred. Sam tried to smile back but there was a strange painful lump in his throat that warned him of oncoming danger. With a sigh he stood up and grabbed the trash can. He wrinkled his nose. Dean flopped back into place.
"Alright," he sighed, "But next time you throw up, I'm calling a doctor." Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. Sam took the trash out and put a new clean bag in it before placing it back at Dean's bedside. Dean was fast asleep.
Sam and Cas had watched a whole season of The Office. It wasn't fun watching anything with Cas, he asked too many questions and even after having them answered he still looked confused. Even now as the credits rolled he leaned forward towards the TV eyebrows pulled together. Dean hadn't made a noise and Sam hadn't seen him since this morning in the bedroom. Sam switched off the TV and jumped up.
"It's awfully quiet," he observed. Cas sat back and nodded. Sam stared at him as if waiting for him to answer an unasked question. Cas looked at him as if to ask what Sam was waiting for. Sam sighed before making his way to Dean's room. He knocked on the door. No answer.
"Dean?" No answer. The painful lump in Sam's throat had mysteriously reappeared. He knocked again, louder.
"Dean." His heart started pounding. "Dean!" He was yelling now despite the pain in his throat. His heart had begun pounding at a speed unlike any other he'd ever experienced even during a hunt. With a sudden surge of fearful energy, he kicked open the door. When he thought about it later, he realized he could've tried the handle and not even had a problem. Dean was laying on the bed. He hadn't moved since Sam had left him. Despite the relief Sam felt at the up and down movement of the bedsheets, his throat still felt suspiciously dry. Taking a deep breath to calm his edgy nerves and shaking hands, Sam approached the bed.
"Dean," he muttered, nudging his brother. Dean groaned and shuffled but didn't open his eyes.
"Come on, Dean," Sam said and shook his brother gently. Dean snorted and opened his eyes.
"Goo orning," he tried to say. Sam was about to say something when he looked down. The trash can was full of vomit.
"That's it," he cried, "I'm calling the doctor."
"No!" said Dean sitting up but Sam was already out the door and headed towards the phone. Cas stared at him as he picked it up and began to dial.
Thump! Sam froze mid dial. He looked at Cas and their eyes met. He saw his own expression of horror reflected in the bright blue eyes of the other man. Dropping the phone Sam sprinted down the hallway and to Dean's room with Cas not far behind. Sam stopped in the doorway. His heart, which only moments before had almost pounded out of his chest, dropped into his stomach and disappeared. The whole world around Sam stopped except for the figure on the floor writhing and jerking around. Sam had never seen anyone have a seizure before, though it reminded him of some of the hauntings he'd experienced, but he recognized it right away. He fell at Dean's side and reached out his hands. They hovered over the seizing body unsure if touching him would be right. Cas had taken Sam's place frozen in the doorway.
"Call 911," Sam ordered. Cas didn't budge.
"Now!" he cried. His hands began to shake and his eyes filled with tears as Cas ran to grab the phone from where it had fallen on the floor.
And Sam watched his brother die. He sat there for a few minutes after the doctor left before standing up. It hurt to see Dean this way. He closed his eyes willing into his mind pictures of the big brother he'd once known but he couldn't keep the present from haunting him. He turned around before opening his eyes and leaving the room.
Outside, he found Cas sitting in the waiting room. His eyes searched desperately for something to settle on and his hands fidgeted nervously in his lap. When he saw Sam he jumped to his feet. Sam walked up next to him and gripped the top of the chair he'd been sitting on. Cas turned and opened his mouth to say something. He was interrupted as Sam flipped the chair onto the floor. He might have done something more violent if Cas hadn't placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. Sam leaned his head on the wall and pounded it with a weak punch.
"He's not good," Cas guessed. Sam shook his head and sighed.
"Brain tumor," he said, "They couldn't treat it fast enough." Cas nodded before sinking into the chair next to the one Sam had flipped. Sam slowly picked up the chair and, after setting it back up, he sat next to Cas. He placed his head in his hands and pulled them through his hair. He could almost feel Cas' hesitant hand floating over his shoulder. He picked his head up and smiled sadly at the man sitting next to him.
"He's gonna die, Cas," the words stuck in his throat before hovering over the two of them.
They spent only a few days in the waiting room. Sam hated waiting. He hated the word waiting. It made him feel helpless and hopeless. Especially now when all he could do was wait for his brother to die. Finally, after days of sitting silently, the doctor came to see them.
"It's time," he said, "Would you like to say your final goodbyes?" Sam looked at Cas as they followed the doctor into the room where Dean would die. Dean turned his head to face them and smiled with great effort. Sam crawled into the chair beside his brother and Cas hung behind. The doctor shut the door leaving the three friends to themselves. Tears burned in Sam's eyes and throat and he couldn't bring himself to look at his brother instead staring at the wall. The three were silent for many minutes before Dean spoke.
"It was bound to happen eventually," he laughed bitterly. Sam shook his head.
"Not like this!" he stood up and grabbed the back of his chair. Cas stepped forward anticipating another violent outbreak but Sam simply bowed his head. "You were supposed to die fighting. Not…" he looked at his brother with tear filled eyes. "Not like this," he whispered. Dean nodded and his own eyes began to fill with tears. For a moment, Sam forgot to cry. His brother's tears scared him and he sat down and reached out to Dean before drawing his hand back. Dean smiled before looking at Cas.
"You take care of him okay?" he pleaded. Sam looked back at their friend and his heart stopped. Although he'd seen Dean cry a time or two, he'd never seen the stoic angel cry. The tears of the once emotionless man broke Sam's heart even more than it already was. Cas nodded, unable to speak. Sam bowed his head and turned back to his brother. Dean was staring at his face as if drinking in every last detail. He smiled.
"You'll be okay," at first Sam thought it was a statement, "Promise me you'll be okay," he could barely choke out the last sentence. Sam nodded as a tear finally slipped over his eyelid and ran down his cheek followed by a stream. Dean nodded and stared at the ceiling. Sam stared at the wall and felt Cas' stare on the back of his head. The room was silent for several moments. Sam had just turned to Dean to say something more, something that would encompass all the words Sam had tried to say in all the years they'd spent together. All the apologies and "I forgive yous" that needed to be said. But Dean's smile stopped him.
"Bitch," the older brother chuckled. Despite his tears, Sam smiled.
"Jerk."