…But He's My Brother

chapter 1

A/N: Re-edited version. Please let me know if you catch any typos or grammatical or structural errors that I missed, and Enjoy!

Dean quietly pulled on his clothes, first his jeans, then his jacket, and his shoes; it was his normal routine except for one thing—he removed his keys from his jacket pocket, the keys to his beautiful Impala, his most beloved possession, the thing he guarded most fiercely, next to his brother. Sammy was the reason, the reason why he had to leave before it happened—he couldn't let Sam watch as she came to collect…Dean dropped the keys on the nightstand next to the note that he'd written to his brother to explain, months ago when he knew there was no hope, when Sam was still looking desperately for some way to get him out of this. If Sam had known that tonight was the night he'd never have been asleep he would have been still pouring over the books, trying desperately to save Dean. Dean took one last look at his brother, knowing this was the only way to do it, the only way to protect his brother, and left.

Dean had to admit that he had been mildly amused when they'd pulled up to the motel and he'd seen the shiny new red Mercedes parked a few spots from his baby. He was sure that it probably belonged to some hot shot, pot bellied, balding businessman who came here to screw around with some two bit hooker. The moron hadn't even bothered to lock the car up!

"Idiot." Dean muttered as he got in. People had no respect for their cars any more—not that this full-size Barbie show car had anything on his Impala. It was easy for him to hot wire, which Dean was thankful for—he wanted to put as much distance between himself and Sam as he could as quickly as he could. The engine came to a life with a low rumble and Dean pulled out of the parking lot with a low squeal wincing as he heard it since Sam was a lighter sleeper than anyone anymore.

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"Son of a bitch!" Sam swore loudly grabbing the envelope and tearing it open.

As Sam skimmed it he couldn't help the alternating waves of anger and fear that washed over him. Dean had done what he had promised, promised Sam that he wouldn't do—he had lied to him, and ran off to do this alone, still trying to protect him, Sam thought angrily. Sam pulled on whatever clothes he found lying on the floor and grabbed the keys running out to the Impala. He was going to find Dean, he had to. He had promised Dean that he was going to find a way to fix this and he was, he wasn't about to let his brother die for him.

Dean couldn't help but to be disgusted by the CD's that Mr. Jared Dwyer of Carson, Missouri had in his car. In his usual fashion, he had shuffled through the glove box and though he was facing the definite uncertainty of death this was more terrifying to him; a collection of eighties pop starring Paula Abdul and The Bangles ranging to the best of the nineties boy bands. When Dean turned the knob of the CD player to on and was accosted with Vanilla Ice 'Ice Ice Baby' blasting from the surround sound speakers he quickly flipped it off once use of his motor functions returned to him.

Dean thanked whatever higher power that was out there that this musically challenged idiot had no control over the airwaves and settled on a good ol' fashioned red blooded, American classic rock station. With the soothing sound of Metallica drumming through the speakers Dean began to relax with the thought that he was now a good two hours away from Sam; and that his brother would be safe, protected, and wouldn't have to watch. It would have killed Sam to watch him die, Dean knew that—watching Sam die in his arms had almost killed Dean and he would never

Dean's theory that Sam would sleep until morning, until this was over, was blown to bits as his cell phone rang and he looked down to see Sam's name on the caller id. Dean considered ignoring it, and it seemed like a viable option until he reconciled himself to the fact that Sam was, in fact, a Winchester and just as stubborn as he was and would just keep calling back until he answered—and truthfully, if Dean was being honest with himself, he wanted to talk to his brother, he wanted to hear Sam's voice one more time before…

Dean didn't even have a chance to finish his thought before Sam began to talk—or maybe yell was a better description, Dean thought with a fleeting grin.

"Dean, you jerk, this is a load of bullshit!"

"Hello to you to Sammy, I uh…take it you read my letter?"

"Did I-Did I…" Sam's voice registered pure incredulity. "Jesus Christ, Dean! Yeah, I read the damn letter, its bull and you know it. I—

"Sammy," Dean cut him off. He had expected this and he didn't blame him for being angry, but he didn't have any other choice but to leave. "It's better this way. It's over for me, and I just want you to stay safe. You can't stop it and I can't and I know you don't believe me but I'm okay with it."

Dean's subservient tone scared Sam more than anything, like he was really giving up. It made him angry and scared, and he struggled to speak over the lump rising up in his throat.

"No! Dean it's not over, we can still fight this, just tell me where you are and I'll take the impala and come—we can fight this together." Sam was begging and desperate, Dean could hear it clearly and it tore him apart that he was hurting him like this. He cursed whatever it was that had woken him up and took a breath before he spoke.

"No." Dean had worked way too hard to keep Sam safe to throw it all away now. "Sam just stay at the motel, please, I'm begging you, just do this one thing for me."

"Fine." Sam said coolly, changing tactics. "Where are you going?"

"Sammy…c'mon, do you really think I'm gonna fall for that? Drop it, man, please. It's better this way. For both of us."

Dean had decided to wait it out in an old out of the way house that he and his dad had squatted in when they needed to keep a low profile—a year or so after Sam ad gone off to college—it was in the middle of nowhere and completely out of the way from civilization so Dean had no worries about any one being caught up in the cross fire.

"Dean, don't do this." Sam pleaded. "Please. We still have time. We can still find something."

"Sam, I only have ten hours left. Its over."

"Dean, I'm not letting you do this alone, you don't have to please…I'm coming to find you."

"You're not going to find me, and uh, take care of that car…" Dean laughed shallowly then grew serious once again. "I love you Sammy."

Dean turned his phone off and shoved it into his pocket feeling a lump rise up in his throat as he cut of Sam's objections and heard his brother's voice echo in his head. Dean pulled to the side of the road, feeling his eyes well with tears and just let himself go, crying with everything he had. Dean wasn't afraid of death or dying; he'd been within inches of death for most of his life, and he'd lived within reach of death's door. One thing frightened him though. Leaving Sam alone scared him more than anything he'd ever faced. Sure, he hadn't been with Sam at Stanford, but he'd always just been a phone call away. They were all each other had anymore; they'd lost their mom, they'd lost their dad, Sam had lost Jess…and now Sam was going to lose him. Dean had felt that kind of pain, Sam had died in his arms and he'd felt as if his heart had been torn to pieces. Dean just hoped that one day Sam could understand why he did what he did and forgive him for leaving him alone.

Once Dean had cried all he could he revved the ignition and picked up the phone ignoring the dozen or so messages from Sam with a pang of guilt and punched in Ellen's number. She wasn't more than an hour from Carson, the main city where the motel lay, and if anybody could help it was her.

"…I've called him a dozen times and he won't answer his phone." Sam was frantic at the thought that he might lose his brother and turned to Ellen for help hoping that maybe he had stopped to see her or had called her…just anything to give him an idea of where to find Dean.

"Sam," Ellen took a deep breath, how was she supposed to tell the poor kid that there was nothing he could do. That the best thing for now was just to do nothing? He was slowly losing everyone he ever cared about and she was supposed to tell him to sit back and watch it happen? "I haven't heard from him." Ellen went for the truth wishing she knew how to help them. "But listen, why don't you come here--we can…wait it out together."

"Wait it out? Ellen, you don't get it. I'm not going to let my brother die for me, I'm going to find him and I'm going to stop it. I don't know how but I will."

"Sam--Sam--

Ellen sighed as he hung up on her cutting her off.

"Like father, like son." She murmured to herself, hoping to God that Dean would call her or that Sam would call her back, and one of them would tell her that she was wrong, this had nothing to do with the deal, and Dean could go back to being his demon-hunting pain in the ass self again.

did you like it? hate it? either way please tell me. If you've read my other fics you know the drill but I'll repeat myself since it is just so fun to talk to myself--please review, if you do i prmise i will be pursuaded to post sooner unless you know you think it sucks well then boo on you becaus i like it lol. pretty please review.

chailyn