Good... Morning, I guess. Here's a one shot of Supernatural that wrote back in March or so, before we actually knew that Sam was indeed drinking demon blood. This was my take on it, going off of spoilers and wishes, plus I really wanted there to be some serious Sam and Cas interaction (which I'm still waiting for this season... Kripke...). I actually laughed when I found out they were doing a future apocolypse story this year, although their version still seemed more happy than mine for some reason...

This is not a happy story. I am warning you now, there's betrayal and pain, death and the apocalypse. However, it's one of my favourite pieces of work. It is also completely unbeta'd, just in case there are any blaring mistakes.

Warnings: Character death, brother angst to the extreme, language

Disclaimer: I don't own, and if I did, I'd have Cas do all my finals for me.

Choices

Everybody's got one…

"You did really good tonight."

Sam looked down at the brunette woman beside him, a self-conscious smile spreading over his lips. "Thanks. It felt good."

Ruby returned the smile. "Even better," she replied, closing the door of the old barn, locking it carefully. "I think you'll be ready for some big game really soon. At this rate, maybe a few weeks…" Sam felt his fingers tingle; getting rid of the higher level demons was something he'd been longing for ever since he'd started training. Now he was ready. Flexing his fingers, he blew out a whoosh of air, looking up at the starry sky. Ruby let out a small laugh beside him.

"You nervous?" she teased.

Something dangerous and dark crept into Sam's eyes, and a low chuckle escaped his throat. "Just excited. I've been waiting for this all my life." He looked at her expectantly, biting his lip. She rolled her eyes in an affectionate sort of way.

"I thought you knew your manners by now, Mr. Winchester," she purred, squeezing the tips of his fingers gently, her other hand taking out a small glass bottle. Scarlet liquid sloshed around inside, coating the walls a sickly colour. She didn't miss the way Sam's eyes lit up as he saw the bottle and she held it out for him.

"Please, I need-" he rasped, hunger thick in his voice. Dropping the bottle in Sam's hand, Ruby danced away, grinning as she watched Sam pocket the bottle with great care.

"Come on, we're gonna want to hurry up if we want to get you back before Dean finds out you're gone," she said. Sam's face fell slightly at the mention of his brother, but he tried to hide it. If Dean knew what he was doing, his older brother would probably end him right then and there. It was better that he didn't know. The trees thinned rapidly as their pace quickened, leaving the deserted barn and the now buried corpse of the possessed woman in the past and away from sight.

"So when will I see you again?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. I have to do some local spying to see what's going on back home, then I'll let you know. Give me a week or so," she answered. Sam wanted to protest, but he wasn't going to argue with his mentor when he was so close to achieving his goal.

"Okay, but come and get me as soon-" he broke off, his eyes widening in surprise and guilt. Ruby froze beside him, wariness radiating off of her.

Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, his expression deathly cold and rigid, furious hazel eyes staring unblinkingly at them.

"D-Dean, what are you doing here?" stammered Sam, going forward tentatively. His older brother hopped off the Impala, striding towards them with a steady and purposeful pace, one hand gripped tightly on a sawed off, the other clenched in a tight fist.

"Get in the car," he hissed, motioning Sam away from Ruby with the shotgun. Sam didn't move even as his brother closed the short distance between them. He stopped in front of them, visibly shaking. "Get in the car," he repeated, his voice trembling.

"Let me explain, please," begged Sam, moving in front of Ruby unconsciously. A muscle in Dean's neck twitched, eyes flitting from Sam to the demon and back again. Grabbing the collar of Sam's coat, he pulled the younger man roughly away the little brunette he had been protecting, not even looking as Sam hit the ground hard. Ruby backed up slightly, her eyes glazing over black and snarl forming on her lips.

"You little whore," snarled Dean, pumping the shotgun and firing, "You stinking, sulphur sucking bitch, I'll KILL YOU!" Ruby's cries of pain as the rock salt assaulted her rang in the cold night air. Dean fired her in the head, sending her sprawling, and he reloaded, shooting again. Sam picked himself up off the ground, horror at what was happening flooding his marrow, and threw himself at his brother.

"Dean, don't-" he exclaimed, trying to pull him away from Ruby. Dean swung around, eyes blazing with anger and hatred, and he brought the butt of the shotgun across Sam's jaw.

"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" he screamed, spit flying from his mouth. Not bothering to see if Sam had obeyed him, he turned back to continue his shooting of the demon. But the ground was bare where she had been, her meat suit nowhere in sight. Breathing heavily, Dean lowered the still smoking shotgun, desperately looking for any sign of Ruby so that he could finish her for good.

"She's gone," wheezed Sam, wiping blood from his streaming nose. Swallowing thickly and completely ignoring Sam, Dean whipped around and stalked back to the Impala, tossing the shotgun in the trunk with a hard thunk. Picking himself gingerly off the grass, Sam limped over to the passenger side of the black car, getting inside. Dean came in almost at the same time, shooting one murderous look at his little brother before pulling the car out and driving back to the highway.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Just don't," snapped Dean, fingers clenching the wheel much too hard.

"If you'd just let me explain-" Sam tried again, but when he saw the look that his brother was wearing, he closed his mouth immediately. The drive back to the motel was only half an hour, but to the occupants of the Impala, it was an eternity. Parking sharply and avoiding Sam at all costs, Dean went back into their motel room, slamming the door in Sam's face. The younger man remained rooted to his spot on the door matt, the sensation that his stomach had dropped out through his toes intensifying as the seconds past. His hand hovered on the doorknob, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't force the simple ball of metal to turn. Taking a deep breath to calm his jagged nerves, he finally entered.

Dean threw another bundle of dirty socks into Sam's duffle, not looking up as his little brother came in.

"Dean, please, just let me explain-" Sam pleaded, walking over. Dean stopped moving, his hands clenching on the edges of the duffle bag. Looking up, Dean fixed his hazel gaze with his brother's. Sam was shaken to the core by the amount of loathing and rage in the green depths, and suddenly he wanted to run as far away as possible.

"No, let me give it a go," Dean said finally, his voice quiet and strained, "You want to tell me that no, everything's fine, nothing's happening, you're just sneaking around with your hell slut for tea parties and cakes and fucking demon blood. You're not jonesing up on your pretty little gifts at all, practicing them on any little black-eyed bastard that bitch drags home for you. Oh no. No, everything's just peachy as pie." A deafening and horrible silence fell, so thick it felt like cotton.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered finally, looking at the floor. Dean's harsh bark of laughter made him flinch.

"Sorry. You don't even know what it means anymore, Sam! Apologies mean nothing coming from you. I'd get better excuses from a frickin' floor board than from you!" Swearing loudly, he threw the small alarm clock beside the bed at the wall. Sam took a few deep breaths before replying.

"I had to, Dean, it was the only way be prepared for this war-"

"Will you list listen to yourself! Are you that frickin' stupid or has that demon bitch convinced you that's the only way to help? For god's sake, it's like listening to a goddamn record loop! At least a record can get away with sounding like that; it has a reason. You-" he pointed a finger at Sam accusingly, "You have no reason. You're only doing this because you're a selfish dick!"

"Well, if I'm such a bloody disappointment, why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?" Sam finally yelled back, "You don't even want to hear me out! I'm doing this so I can save us, save you, when the time comes! We don't have much time left anymore Dean, we're down to ten seals and it doesn't look like the angels are going to be able to stop Lucifer from rising. He rises, and the apocalypse happens! We can't stop him with just rock salt and holy water."

"And you think your mojo will be enough? You believe that, little brother, and you'll believe anything." Shaking his head, Dean violently pulled the zipper to Sam's duffle closed. He threw it at Sam, his unblinking eyes still fixed on the taller man's blue green ones. "If I would have known what you'd become, I would never have sold my soul. I would have let you stay dead back in Cold Oak."

Sam's breathing was hitched as he stared at Dean, clutching the duffle like it was a life preserver. "Is that what you think?" he rasped, swallowing thickly. The arctic glare he was receiving said it all. Nodding slowly, he went back to the door. "I'll be seeing you."

"I honestly hope not," was Dean's reply as he shut the door. The night was still, a thin crescent moon in the sky and stars shining brightly. Sam searched the heavens for something, anything, to tell him the answers to this great mess of a problem he was in. A numb sensation settling where his stomach used to be, he stepped off the matt and turned his back on his brother for good.

The moon passed slowly overhead, signalling the increasing hours and the distance growing between Sam and Dean. Sam stopped as he came to a cross roads in the highway. How fitting. Here he would make he decision that would change his life forever.

"You shouldn't be out," murmured a quiet voice, and Sam jumped, turning around to see Castiel standing behind him. The angel was looking at him with those huge unblinking blue eyes, pensive as ever.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, trying to calm his stressed nerves. Castiel didn't answer, instead walking until he had closed the distance between himself and the hunter.

"You should be careful of which path you take, Samuel," he said in his serious tone. Sam scoffed bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"Or I'll destroy the world. I get it," he snapped. Castiel tilted his head to the side, studying the taller man. Sam became unnerved under the angel's penetrating stare.

"Do you?" Castiel asked. He placed his fingers on Sam's forehead, and the hunter felt his world shift.

When he opened his eyes at last, he was no longer at the cross roads, but in a desolate wasteland devoid of anything living. The sky was a dark red colour, with flares of pale yellow and orange showing up in the occasional place. A burnt out tree cast a black shadow across him, an eerie whistling playing around its branches. Sam realized it was the wind. A nasty feeling spread over his skin, and he looked down at the ever calm Castiel.

"Where are we?" he asked shakily. Castiel smiled briefly before answering.

"It might be better to ask when. This is the same spot you were standing at just a second ago. But it's five years from now. Welcome to the future, Samuel," said Castiel, sweeping his hand around the arid landscape. Sam swallowed, his eyes wide with horror and desperation.

"What happened here?" he whispered, fear making his voice hitch. Castiel didn't move for a minute, then fixed his deep blue gaze with Sam's.

"You did."

Sam stared, horrified denial rushing through his veins, but Castiel's look said he wasn't lying. "How?"

Castiel examined the land around them, seemingly oblivious to the utter destruction and death. "That's why I've brought you here."

"But-but there's nothing here! It's gone, all gone…" Sam trailed off, biting his lip. He grabbed Castiel's shoulder, turning the angel to face him. "Please, please tell me I didn't cause this."

After a moment of silence, the angel answered in his cold tone. "You didn't cause it, Lucifer did. But you're the one who started everything. You set the events in motion, Samuel." Sam shook his head, trying to force himself to think that the angel was deceiving him. "The path you are on right now, Samuel, is the one that is leading to all of this."

"No!" cried Sam, walking away from the angel's ripping words. "I couldn't… I can't…" he whispered to himself, staring out onto the rocky plain. Something crunched under his foot, and he jumped backwards as he saw it was the skull of child. Fingers trembling, he picked it up, looking at it closely.

Help us… whispered the wind, Help us Sam… Sam looked up and saw row upon row of people, all covered in brutal wounds, all whispering to him. Help us…

"NO!" he screamed, throwing the skull into the crowd of ghostly figures. The spirits disappeared, leaving him sobbing on the ground. Castiel watched, waiting for the young man to regain his composure before doing anything else. Slowly, Sam sat up, looking at the ash covering his hands.

"Did anyone survive?" he rasped.

"A few of the most resilient, hunters for the most part. Those who weren't already became hunters very fast. The earth's population hovers at around two hundred thousand at the moment. Lucifer's rising nearly annihilated the entire planet. Those who survived were either converted to his army or went into deep hiding. You assist in capture and killing of those who oppose you and Lucifer; you are both very alike now," Castiel answered quietly. Sam's shoulders shook, but he refused to cry anymore in front the angel.

"Did-did Dean-"

"Your brother is alive at the moment. He's in charge of a resistance camp not far from here."

"Can I see him?" Sam looked up at Castiel, his expression pale and beseeching. The angel nodded, motioning for Sam to follow him. Leaping to his feet, Sam stumbled after Castiel, slipping on the loose and jagged rock. The walk was back breaking and arduous, between the searing heat, dry wind, and uneven ground. It was not a long way to the top of the rise where Castiel was waiting, but nothing could have been harder. Sam looked out eagerly for any sign of civilization, a house, a car, something, but it was just barren wasteland. The disappointment was crushing.

"You told me I'd see him!" he exclaimed, glaring at Castiel accusingly. Castiel held up his hand, then pointed down in the valley. Sam looked again, and this time he saw the small dust cloud moving across the rock. Somebody was running towards a large mound of rubble.

"Listen," said the angel, watching the runner intently. Sam concentrated, trying to drown out the moaning wind, and heard a short bird call. It took him a while to realize that it had been the person who had been running. An answering call replied, and the runner disappeared from sight.

"They're underground?" asked Sam incredulously. Castiel gave a small chuckle.

"It's the safest place to be. Demons patrol the sky much of the time." As if to drive the point home, something cast a shadow over them and Sam looked up in time to see a creature that resembled a very ugly bat fly by.

"But-they don't look like that…" Sam said in confusion, his eyes following the monster as it flew over the valley and disappeared into a cloudbank.

"No, not on the earth you know. Lucifer's rising let the demons take on their physical forms from Hell," Castiel explained. He pointed to the rock mound where the runner had gone and looked at Sam. "You're brother is in there. If we want to see him, we should hurry. Something more dangerous is approaching." Sam opened his mouth to ask what Castiel meant, but the land blurred and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in the back of a large cave. A small fire crackled in the middle, and a group of about seven people huddled around it. Five were men, the other a woman and child. Sam's eyes swept over them, frustration building as he didn't see his brother.

"You said he'd be here," Sam hissed. Castiel held up his finger, his blue gaze fixed on the man directly across from them.

"He is," he replied. Sam pursed his lips, then looked again more carefully. Two of the men were much darker skinned than the rest, so that eliminated them right away. One was far too young; he looked about seventeen. There were only two possible choices now. Sam first studied the taller of the two. His hair was cropped short, mouth fuller than normal, with a solid build. This had to be Dean. But as he turned, Sam saw that the man's eyes were dark brown, not light hazel. Blowing out a small sigh of annoyance, he looked at the final hunter. Although not as tall as his companion, he looked like he had a good height. His dark blonde hair fell over his eyes and halfway to his shoulders, while several days' worth of beard covered his sharp jaw line. Three deep and long scars slashed down his left cheek, shining a deep red in the firelight. He looked close to forty.

"You're lying," said Sam finally. The look Castiel gave him made him flinch away.

"I do not lie," snapped the angel, "You are just not looking hard enough. He is here, sitting right in front of us." Sam was about to protest when he heard the man with the beard speak.

"… We haven't gotten any new sightings from the Dust Bowl for a few weeks now. I think they finally learned that holy ground that powerful won't be accessible," he growled to his companions, motioning over an earmarked and tattered map. That voice, deep and full… Sam peered closer at the man, and he finally met his eyes. Icy shock solidified in Sam's gut as he recognized the hazel greens that were his brother's.

"Dean?" he breathed, narrowing his eyes. The man froze, then looked directly at the spot where Castiel and Sam were hiding. Sam tried to back away, but Castiel grabbed his arm.

"He can't see us," Castiel explained, "But he may be able to sense you. Your bond is stronger than many I have known." Sam couldn't stop staring at his brother.

"But-but what happened to him? He doesn't even look like himself," he mused incredulously.

"When you experience a betrayal as powerful as he has, and then try to defend the last of human kind, you change, not always for the best. Dean has become what he is to survive," Castiel murmured. Sam shot a sharp look at him.

"I made him become this?" he said tentatively. Castiel nodded. "God… Dean…" Dean looked up again, and something sad flitted across his scarred features before he went back to his pondering of the map.

The birdcall sounded above them, and a figure dropped down from the roof of the cave. The people around the campfire had weapons out before Sam could so much as blink, but the lithe figure gave a small laugh.

"Easy, it's just me," said a female voice. Dean smiled, and his facial appearance was dramatically altered; Sam finally caught a glimpse of the Dean he'd left behind. His eyes opened even wider as he saw who the woman was.

"Sarah," Dean said warmly, kissing the curvy brunette tenderly. Sam's mouth was hanging open.

"Sarah, Sarah Blake?" he choked out, gawking at the obvious mutual affection between his brother and the woman. Castiel nodded.

"She was one of the first people Dean successfully saved. She's become a dedicated warrior to the resistance since then." Sam felt his face grow warm and cold at the same time.

"So then she knows about me…" he mumbled, still not taking his eyes off of her.

"Yes. You tried to kill her after you received word that she'd joined your brother." Sam bowed his head, tears prickling his eyes again, but refusing to give in to his emotions.

"Did I miss anything?" Sarah asked, sitting down beside Dean.

"The demons have finally got it through their skulls that Dust Bowl is forbidden territory to them," said Dean, giving a wry chuckle. Sarah smiled, twining her fingers with his.

"Took them long enough. You'd think they'd know from the get go that any area where an angel has died would be holy ground," she muttered, running calloused fingers over the map. "Any new news from Seraphila?"

"She says they won the battle over in Norway, but lost ground over France and Portugal. There have been heavy casualties in Chile, but it could be a draw right now. Other than that, she thinks there's going to be a huge massing over the Arctic Circle in a few months. A lot of the demons have been migrating north, and the angels are trying to figure out why." He went on, but Sam turned to Castiel curiously.

"Whose Seraphila?" he asked. Castiel looked down for a minute, and Sam could have sworn he saw sadness the angel's blue eyes.

"She's my replacement," he answered finally.

"You're replacement, what…" Sam paused, staring, "You're dead?"

"Two years ago. Apparently your gifts grow to include angel expulsion. The area they're talking about, the Dust Bowl, is where I die."

"I-I kill you?" Sam said finally. Castiel nodded slowly. "Oh my god, I'm-I-"

"Come," whispered Castiel, and Sam found himself standing at the edge of an oasis. A beautiful forest the diameter of a hundred meters stood before him, tall trees and hundreds of flowers threatening to spill over into the wasteland around it. Sam turned around to look at Castiel. The angel had a sad smile on his face as he examined the forest.

"This is where you-you-" Sam couldn't finish the sentence and he looked away, ashamed.

"Even though I may no longer exist on the physical or even spiritual plane, I'm still able to help my fellow brothers. Most of their food and water comes from here. It's one of the few places where life actually flourishes," Castiel said, coming up beside Sam.

"Then why do they call it the Dust Bowl?"

"To confuse any enemies, and to keep any prospective enemies that aren't Hell soldiers from destroying it."

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you."

Sam looked down at the angel, suddenly needing answers. "But you said that you were going to show me how this happens, what I do." Castiel merely studied Sam, not moving or speaking. Frustration built, and Sam was about to say a few choice words when deep boom sounded in the distance. "What was that? Cas, what was that?" The angel only blinked. A scream filtered towards them from the same direction as the camp. Sam grew cold, walking and then running towards the sounds. "Please, no, no…" His feet barely skimmed the uneven ground as he sprinted towards the camp, fear and desperation giving him wings. Someone screamed again, and this time a cold laugh followed it. Sam made one last leap to the top of the hill and finally saw what was happening.

A dark figure towered over the limp body of the child that had been in the cave. Sarah was holding back the boy's mother while Dean and the other hunters were trying to injure the being. It simply laughed again, disappearing from sight. Dean barked out orders, circling the area slowly. Before he could react, the figure appeared again and telekinetically threw Dean into a large boulder. With a sickening crack, he collapsed, blood trailing out of his ear. The figure gave a cold chuckle, then walked towards the fallen man.

"NO!" Sam yelled, running forward. Without even knowing what he was doing, knowing it should have been impossible to do anything, he grabbed a chunk of rock, pulled back his arm, and hurled it at the murdering bastard. It hit it with a solid thwack, causing the thing to stumble. Wheeling around, it searched for the one who had dared oppose him, mouth twisted in a soundless snarl. Sam nearly fell to the ground as he saw who it was. The high cheekbones, the long nose, the dark shaggy hair, it was the exact same. Only the eyes were different. Instead of the thoughtful blue green, they were a sickly amber yellow, the exact colour of Azazel's. Only it wasn't a demon that stood before him. Sam had to fight the urge not to be sick as he recognized himself. His future self looked momentarily surprised to see his younger and still human counterpart, then grinned coldly. The wind picked up, and he disappeared.

Sarah wasted no time in running over to where Dean had fallen, screaming for a first aid kit and begging Dean not to leave her. Sam stood stock still, wanting to just die right then and there. A gentle hand descended on his shoulder, and he turned to see Castiel standing behind him, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"I-I-I don't want this," Sam whispered, feeling his walls break down and the entire night's pent up emotion overflow. Castiel nodded, and the world went momentarily dark before they were back at the crossroads.

"You still have time to change what you saw, Samuel. But if you keep to the path you are on now, that is what will happen," said Castiel coldly, studying the young man. Sam paced the pavement, trying to think over the screaming in his head and the sobs shaking his tall frame. Swallowing back the tears, he turned to the angel.

"What am I supposed to do?" he whispered.

"You know what you must do," was the angel's cryptic answer, then he was gone. Sam took a few gasping breaths to calm himself, looking back at way he'd come. Tightening his grip on his duffle, he started walking, jogging, and finally running, not stopping until he caught site of the motel at long last. He thumped on the door, not caring if he woke anyone else. There was some shuffling from inside, then clicking as locks were turned. Finally, Dean's face appeared. His older brother's expression hadn't changed much since he'd last seen it, but the relief and joy of it nearly set him off again.

"What do you want?" he snapped, glaring at Sam. Sam licked his lips, trying to think of something to say. The memory of Dean's scarred face floated through his head, and he had to bite back the grief that was threatening to take over again. Dean must have seen how broken his brother was because he dropped the aggressive stance right away. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

"Will-will you let me in?" rasped Sam, his eyes shining much too brightly in the starlight. Dean hesitated, then nodded. Letting his brother pass by, he locked the door once more, restoring the salt line. Sam sat on the bed, shivering and staring off into space. Dean sat down across from him, worry and the need to protect his little brother taking over whatever anger he still felt.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sam whispered bitterly. Dean merely listened, trying to understand what his brother was apologizing for; somehow, he knew it had nothing to do with what had happened earlier that night.

"Sam, what's wrong, what happened?" he asked quietly. Sam didn't look at his brother right away, instead remembering what he had seen in five years to come.

"Castiel showed up not long after I left; he took me to the future," Sam said finally. Dean nodded, but a terrible uneasiness was building in his gut.

"What did you see?"

Sam met his brother's concerned hazel gaze at last, and all he saw was a beaten and broken man fighting for survival in a world that couldn't be saved. Because of what Sam had done.

Dean finally felt fear as he saw the deep blackness of crushing defeat in Sam's eyes.

"Sam, what did you see?"

Opening his mouth, Sam finally spoke, the image of his brother's marred face still plain as day in his mind.

Like I said, it's not a happy fic, but I think it does end... a little happier than it started. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Please review! I'd like to know if this really was worth reading.

Xxxx

Warriorgrrrl