GETHSEMANE
Dean set the box of ammo down on the kitchen table. "Where's Sam?"
"Said he needed a walk," Bobby said. He looked at his watch. "We got about an hour before we need to head out."
Dean nodded. "I'll go get him."
Bobby watched him walk out of the kitchen, sighed and went back to packing.
Dean walked slowly through the salvage yard. He was in no real hurry to find his brother. In fact, he could go the rest of his life without finding him as long as it meant Sam didn't have to say yes to Lucifer.
This was wrong, it was just wrong. He wanted to throw his brother into the trunk of the car and run. Screw it, let the world burn. They'd given enough. Their family had fought for years, sacrificed everything, all to save a world that had never given them back anything but pain.
And now Sam was going to give the only thing he had left.
His life.
And Dean would be alone.
At the thought, a pain so sharp it stopped his breath shot through him and he stopped, arms wrapped tight around himself, trying to breathe.
After a minute, the pain eased and he took a breath. Life should be about more than pain, he thought bitterly. More than just survival.
There was a faint sound. When he turned, he could see Sam, sitting on the hood of a car, not too far away. His little brother's head was bowed, his shoulders shaking.
At the sight of his brother's tears, Dean was filled with a rage so deep, so profound, that had God himself appeared before him, he would have tried to kill him. Bullets, blade, teeth, whatever it took.
"How does a holy water enema sound, you sanctimonious son-of-a-bitch?"
No answer from Heaven, of course.
Hazel eyes pleading, Sam stared up at the sky. Pale moonlight shone down on his tears.
"I don't know if this is what you want me to do," he whispered. "I only know it's what I have to do. The only thing I ask - please let me be strong enough to finish this."
As the crunch of boots on gravel announced his brother's arrival, Sam scrubbed a hasty hand over his face. "Is it time already?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah, no rush, we've got a few minutes." He leaned against the car.
"I've just been sitting here, thinking," Sam said softly. "Remembering."
"I've been doing some of that myself."
"Do you remember, when we were kids, I found Dad's journal? I made you tell me the truth about monsters."
"Yeah, I remember." He remembered, vividly, the fear on young Sam's face. "You were a real pain in the ass."
Sam smiled sadly. "When I thought about monsters back then, it was vampires and werewolves. Not the devil. He was something far away, like God. He wasn't - I don't know, real."
Dean waited.
"Dean - I am so sorry about all this shit." Before Dean could speak, Sam held up a hand to stop his brother's protest.
"I screwed up. I brought him here. Lucifer is real. And he's scarier than anything I could have ever imagined."
Sam's breath caught and he tried to steady himself. He didn't have much time.
"Death doesn't scare me. If it was just death, it would be okay. I'd be with Mom and Dad, and Jess. And someday you and Bobby. What scares me," he almost whispered it, "is Hell really forever? Will God ever set me free? Forgive me?
"Screw that, Sam," snapped Dean. His anger rose again; he punched it back down. "And screw Him, too. You don't need forgiveness."
Surprising himself, Sam laughed. "Don't ever change, Dean. "
Before he could stop himself, Dean blurted, "Sammy, you don't have to do this!"
"Yeah, I do. I'm so scared I'm practically pissing myself, but I let Lucifer out. I've got to put him back in."
One last thing.
"Dean - You're my brother. I love you."
Dean didn't answer until he was sure he could talk without losing it.
"I love you, too, Sam."
Silent, together, they looked up into the night sky, one last time.