Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works. I also don't own Supernatural or any of the characters affiliated with them.

Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"

Hey there! New part! This one is written by Arlothia with only minor help from me as a beta (talk about the shoe on the other foot!)

I'm done with Part 7 too - which is actually SUPER long compared to the rest of these...it's like a little fic on it's own. In it we get to see Dean meet Phil! So the plan, is to post it tomorrow morning. Or if you're all good little readers, maybe I'll post it tonight:P Let's just see how evening goes!

Oh and Happy Halloween! My husband has to work tonight so we took our one year old to a trunk or treat on the navy base we live near last night. The little guy was the cutest little batman there has ever been! (if hawkeye had been available, I'd have totally gone that route) So anybody that has littles trick or treating tonight or is going themselves, be safe and have fun!

Now here's Part 6! Enjoy!

OH and THANK YOU to all of you that have reviewed this so far! I've been so sporadic with posting, I haven't done my usual individual thanks like I normally do on multi-chap fics. So sorry! I'll totally start doing that again on the next part! Okay, i'll shut up now!

You know, when we were little— and you couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, "Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know." I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...And I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that?
Dean Winchester, "All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two", Season 2 Episode 22

April 30, 2007

It was a day Dean would never forget. A day that had been permanently imprinted into his mind and his heart as the worst day of his entire life.

It was the day Sam had died.

Sam was falling to his knees, gasping, face contorted in pain. Dean ran, sliding to the ground before Sam could fall, grabbing his shirt to keep him upright.

"No, Sam!" His younger brother slumped onto his shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Hey, hey. Come here. Let me look at you."

Dean brought his hand up from where it was probing Sam's back. It was completely covered in blood. He couldn't let himself dwell on what that meant. He couldn't let Sam know how scared he was.

"Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!" Dean tried holding him up but Sam was losing strength by the second. Even as Dean held him tighter, Sam grew more limp in his arms. His brother's head wobbled. "Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You'll be good as new. Huh? I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?"

Sam's eyes drifted closed and Dean frantically ran his hands over his face, trying to get him to open them again. "Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!"

But Sam didn't open his eyes. He didn't move…He wasn't breathing.

Fear and denial, shock and despair filled Dean's face. No. This wasn't happening.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no."

He pulled Sam into his shaking, but strong arms, his little brother's head resting on the shoulder that was always there for him to lean on. One more time.

Dean's normally steely face broke, contorting into all the emotions bursting out of him, too strong to keep in anymore. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, unwilling to let him go.

"SAM!"

His last, tortured yell still reverberated in his mind as he stood there, watching over his little brother lying on the dirty, broken mattress in the abandoned town where Bobby had helped carry him. The older man was gone now, chased off by Dean's harsh words and his need to be alone with Sam.

He still wouldn't believe it. He couldn't.

But with Sam unable to give him one of his goofy smiles that always seemed to make even the worst situations the tiniest bit more bearable, he was left grasping for something else, some other comfort. He needed to hear the voice of his other, honorary little brother.

It had been a long time since they'd spoken and even longer since they'd seen each other – about a year if Dean tracked it right. Dean had certainly had his hands full over that time and he figured the job of a super spy was never done. But between him and Clint, time never really seemed to matter.

So Dean dug his phone out of his pocket and pressed Clint's speed dial. It went straight to voicemail.

"This is Clint, you know what to do."

Dean was silent for a few moments. Clint had always picked up. Always. And he never had his phone off. He didn't know whether or not to leave a message or just hang up. Finally he decided that he should speak now before he lost his nerve.

"Clint. It's, uh...it's me. Listen, something...something happened. It's Sam. He—" Dean had to stop for a moment, drawing a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that threatened to overflow. "Something happened and I don't know...I just need to make sure you're alright. So call me back when you get this, okay?"

He hung up and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, keeping his hand there, ready to get it out again when it rang as he believed, hoped, it would any minute now. Clint wasn't big on the warm and fuzzies but he always came through when it mattered. And right now, Dean needed whatever comfort his friend could give him. He was a fixer, more focused on helping others than himself, just like Dean was. He would want to fix this. But there was no changing what had happened, no way to make this situation better.

Unless...

The idea struck him, forming in his mind, giving him the small glimmer of hope he needed. It was stupid, insane, reckless. But that was Dean's life in a nutshell so it just might work. And if it did…

If it did, the fallout wouldn't matter.

Water stretched out below Clint as his jet flew across the Pacific Ocean. He had just spent the past week and a half in the Australian Outback staring at a screen that may or may not relay information from a server in China about a threat that might or might not be credible. Just another crap assignment in a long list of crap assignments during his probation after he brought in Romanoff last year.

Needless to say, the screen had stayed blank and many rocks had been thrown at passing kangaroos. He never hit them, though. His intent had been more to make them jump on command. The far wall, too, had been made a target, the marks made in the wood by his arrows spelling out a rather inappropriate phrase. But now he was on his way home and if he was lucky, which was a laughable thought, he wouldn't have another assignment for a few days.

Despite his level of inactivity during his latest stint as computer babysitter, Clint was exhausted. Soon after setting the jet to autopilot, he had leaned back in his seat and taken a nap. He woke over Hawaii a few hours later and reached for his phone. He hadn't had any cell reception in the vast deserts of Australia so there had been no reason to waste the battery. But now was as good a time as any to check for messages. Maybe Phil had called to tell him he'd earned his freedom. With that thought making him nearly laugh hopelessly, he turned his phone on. After a moment of searching for a signal, it connected to the nearest cell tower on the mainland. Immediately it beeped with a new message.

Dread filled him when the name 'Dean' flashed at the top of his message list. Some instinct told him this hadn't been a call to talk Clint into meeting up for a beer.

"Clint. It's, uh...it's me."

Those few words were all it took for Clint to know something horrible had happened. Dean's voice, it was wrong…it was broken. And as his friend went on, Clint's heart sank.

Sam.

He and Sam had never been close. They just hadn't had the chance. But if something had happened, if Sam was hurt, dying…maybe already dead…

Even as the message ended, Clint was pulling the phone away from his ear. The message was three days old. Too long. He didn't want to think about how much could have happened during that time. He didn't want to think about what Dean might have done.

He hit the button to call Dean back, hoping, praying to whoever might be listening, that it had all been a bad scare. That Sam was fine, Dean was fine…that Clint wasn't too late.

As the phone rang, he reached for the controls to take the jet off autopilot. He'd fly to wherever Dean was if he had to, to hell with the consequences. If his friend needed him, not even the threat of Fury's wrath would keep him away. They were too similar and Clint knew that he would do anything, anything, to save Phil. Dean would do no less for Sam. Clint might not be able to stop him, but he could sure as hell try to help him and keep it from going too far.

The phone rang twice before being answered.

"Clint, where have—"

Clint wasn't in the mood for Dean's big brother routine. He cut him off and spoke over him instead.

"Dean, what the hell happened? Is Sam alright? Where are you?"

"No, Clint, it's fine," Dean assured him. "Sam's fine, alright? It was just a tricky situation but we got out of it. We always do."

"A tricky situation," Clint repeated slowly, his tone incredulous. "The message you left made it sound like he was at death's door or already through it. I've never heard you sound like that, Dean."

"Well maybe I just wanted a little bit of reassurance, okay? You've been MIA for months and things seem to be getting worse in this monster-filled world I live in. And this time…this time was just a bit tougher than usual. But I got it taken care of. Promise." Abruptly, Dean changed the subject, turning the line of questioning onto Clint. "Hey, where have you been the past few days? Or months?"

Clint recognized the tactic. Hell, he had used it countless times himself so he allowed it…for now.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't hit you back sooner. The Australian Outback isn't known for its cell coverage."

"You on one of your secret spy missions?"

"Just getting back from one, actually. But it's not as exciting as you'd think…This year, man, it's been hell."

Dean huffed a laugh.

"Preaching to the choir. You're talking to the president of the crappy year club. But I think I've got the leg up on this one."

"Wouldn't doubt that. Mine's not so much been crappy as it's been boring as hell." Except for that first mission in Uzbekistan, but Dean didn't need to know – or worry – about that particular near death experience. "Remind me not to piss off my boss again."

"What'd you do?"

Clint hesitated. Dean knew he was a spy, but he had this fantastic 007 idea about it. He didn't know the true nature of Clint's job at SHIELD. And for a guy that made a life of saving people, Clint was pretty sure his friend wouldn't understand making a life as an assassin.

"Refused an order the higher ups really didn't want refused," he answered carefully. He wasn't ready for Dean to know the truth, not yet.

Dean was quiet for a moment.

"Sounds like a hell of a story. Want to tell it?"

"Not really, man. It's done now, no taking it back even if I wanted to. Either way, I've been serving crap duty for almost a year now to pay for it."

"Maybe one day you'll stop talking around the subject with me." Dean's voice was sincere, but instead of pressuring further, he changed the subject again, giving Clint an out. "Hey, there's been some activity over near your neck of the woods. Sam and I could find our way there, maybe meet up for a drink."

Clint shook his head, not that Dean could see it. "I don't know, man. There's no telling when my penance will be done, but I'm not counting on it being soon. They'll have me back out in the field in the time it takes to refuel the jet."

"Well, we should try to work out something in the near future, okay? Even if it's just one drink."

There was something in Dean's voice, something off.

"Dean, what's wrong?" he asked seriously.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"Don't give me that. What is it? Is it about Sam?"

"What?" Dean sounded honestly affronted. "No, I just told you. Sam's fine."

Clint's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong, his instincts were screaming it. If it wasn't Sam…

"Then is it something with you? And don't give me this 'I'm fine' crap because I've used that excuse too often to not know what it means."

Dean's sigh crackled over the line. "It was too close this time, Clint. I guess I'm just still a bit shaken up about it."

A half truth. But Clint wasn't letting him off the hook this time.

"How did you get out of it, Dean?"

"Oh come on, you don't want me to bore you with the details."

That was it.

"Dean, stop avoiding the question. If you don't start talking, I'll track your phone, fly over there, and make you tell me. And don't think I won't."

"Dude, calm down."

"No! Why won't you tell me what happened? What's got you so scared you can't even talk about it? I've got worst case scenarios playing out in my head right now and you dancing around it is just making it worse."

The heat behind Clint's words wasn't entirely fake. He hated getting lied to. And Dean's evasiveness was becoming infuriating. But he was also hoping to kick Dean's big brother tendencies into gear. If Dean thought he was causing Clint some undue distress, he'd be more inclined to fess up.

And if that didn't work…well then Clint would do what he could to piss him off. Anger tended to take down verbal filters with ease.

His first play worked, though. Dean confessed, albeit grudgingly and with great annoyance.

"I made a deal, alright? Are you happy now? Sam died and I made a deal with a demon. His life for mine. You asked me who I'd pick when it came down to it and I chose Sam. I made the same decision you did with that bullet you took so you don't get lecture me about this."

Clint felt the blood drain from his face and he had to catch himself before the phone slipped out of his hand.

Sam died.

Dean…Dean made a deal. The logical part of Clint's brain demanded more information, even if his emotional side hadn't quite processed anything.

"If you traded your life for his, how are you still alive right now?"

Maybe it wasn't so bad, maybe Dean had pulled a fast one and everybody was okay.

Dean let out a breath before he answered.

"When you make a deal with a demon you usually get ten years before they come for your soul."

"Usually?" Clint held his breath. 'Usually' was suddenly this least favorite word in the dictionary. He already knew, before Dean even spoke, that he wasn't going to like his answer.

"I got one."

"Dean." Clint said his name like a curse and a prayer all wrapped up into one. "What the hell have you done?" It was said more to himself than to the man he was talking to.

It all made sense now. Dean pushing so hard to meet up. He only had a year…he just wanted to get together one last time.

"I did what I had to, Clint, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I've been protecting him his whole life and I wasn't about to stop. He's all I've got left."

Clint frowned.

"Wait, what about your dad?" But he knew. He knew Dean's line of work and he knew how the lives of most hunters ended.

"Gone."

There was pain in that word. Pain beyond anything Clint had ever heard from Dean. Something more had happened. He was about to ask for more when he was caught off guard by Dean's harsh laugh.

"Guess I've followed in his footsteps for so long I saw no reason to stop now."

Clint wasn't sure what that meant. Dean seemed to be talking to himself more than Clint at that point. It painted a picture, though, a picture of what had happened to Dean's dad without Dean having to say a word.

He was trying to put on a brave face, Clint knew. But he had always been able to see right through Dean and the humor he wore as a mask. He could sense the heartbreak and anguish the older man felt over how his life had turned out.

Clint knew the feeling. He knew what it was to look in the mirror and hate what you saw. But Dean…Dean had less of a choice than he had. He'd been a kid when this had all started for him. It wasn't fair. He hadn't chosen this life. Not like Clint had. He'd only ever saved people. He didn't deserve his life to end like this. He didn't deserve for his life to end at all.

And as much as Clint hated to admit it, he had absolutely no idea how to help him. Demons and monsters – it wasn't his world. Give him an arms dealer or a war criminal…then at least he could do something. Now…in this…he was useless.

And the thought of losing Dean…it hurt. And Clint's response to hurt had always been the same. He channeled it…into anger.

"All that sucks, Dean. But I've got my own pile of crap to deal with so if that's it then I need to go." Clint knew his voice was hard, cruel even. He wanted to take it back as soon as he said it.

"No…no, that's it." Dean sounded confused and hurt and Clint clenched his jaw.

"Then I'll see ya."

"Clint, wait." Clint paused at the pleading in Dean's voice. "I know what you're doing."

"Do you?" Clint challenged sharply.

Dean's reply was calm and warm and something close to gentle.

"Yeah, I do. I happen to read from the same playbook, kid. I know you're pissed, I know you're scared and hurt. You're trying to protect yourself, I get it…But please don't walk away like this. I've only got a year, man, please…I want you to be part of it."

Clint clenched his jaw, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He and Dean, they were too much alike sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly.

"It's okay, I get it. But Clint, you're…you're family, you know that right?"

"Yeah." Even if it just made everything so much harder. "Does Sam know?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. He's about as happy as you are."

Clint nodded. As much as it hurt, as much as he just wanted to run the other direction, he couldn't deny Dean the one thing he asked of him.

"I don't know when I'll be able to…but I'll find a way to meet up with you guys. Even if I have to go AWOL, okay? I'll be there."

Dean's next breath was relieved.

"Thank you, Clint."

"Just keep me updated on where you are, okay."

"I will. Take care of yourself, Clint."

"I feel like that should be my line this time around."

Dean laughed lightly.

"I think that ship has sailed, but I'll do my best."

Clint smiled slightly, pulling his phone away from his ear as the line went a moment he just sat there, staring at it. He couldn't help but think that things could have turned out differently, that he could have come up with some other way to save Sam, if only he hadn't been stuck in a place without reception because of these stupid assignments he was being punished with.

And for the first time since he'd made the choice, he regretted saving her. Because by saving the life of a stranger he had damned the life of a friend.

Clint spun his chair around abruptly and threw his phone across the jet, then dropped his head in his hands, mourning the friend he was about to lose.

End of Part 6!

Whew that was heavy! Dean's deal remains one of my favorite story lines of the SPN 'verse - for the tragedy of it and the complete selflessness of it. Is it wrong that I was almost happy with the way it ended? If they'd have skated by and gotten out of it, wouldn't it have taken away the gravity of what he did? *sighs* I'm such a Dean-girl it isn't even funny.

Hope you enjoyed this! Drop us a line to tell Arlothia how much you liked it :D