Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for helping and supporting. Thank you all for reading xxx

Chapter Twenty-One

Thanks to John's alcohol sodden recitations of the story, Sam knew every detail of the night his mother had died.

It was only when he was drunk that John spoke about it. When sober he would barely mention what had happened outside of the need for revenge; he never told them details. When he was drunk though, he would share the story again and again, as if each telling exorcised some part of the horror for him. Dean had always hated to hear it, but Sam had enjoyed the first part of the story, the tale of how the evening had begun for John, coming home from work to his family and settling his children into bed. That small vignette of his family's life had made up for the fact he had to hear the rest of the macabre tale.

He knew that, after putting Sam and Dean to bed, John had said goodnight to Mary and then gone downstairs to watch an old film on the TV. He knew that Mary had been so tired she was almost asleep before John said goodnight, but Dean had been restless and had wanted to stay up with his father longer. Sam knew that John would fall asleep, too, and would be woken by a noise that would send him rushing upstairs. He knew that the clock had stopped at exactly twelve minutes past eight and that Sam would be awake and happily gurgling in his crib when John went in. It would all be fine until John noticed the blood dripping down into the crib.

That was how it had happened then. Sam was going to change that now.

He was ready.

He needed access to the house, but it was still too early to go through the front door in case someone spotted him, so he snuck into the back yard and bent with his lock picking tools to the back door that led into the kitchen. John kept the lock oiled, and it was easy to open. Sam tucked the tools back in his pocket and eased open the door.

The clock above the stove said it was almost eight o'clock. The fact it was finally so close to time made Sam's breath quicken. He had been waiting for this moment for years, and it was finally upon him. He was going home to a different life soon.

He crept into the hall and peered around the living room door. John was sleeping in an armchair and an old war movie was playing on the TV, just as he had said. It was eerie to see the moment he'd imagined so many times coming to life in person.

He smiled at his slumbering father and then crept up the stairs. The nursery was the second door on the left, and Sam went straight there. His infant self was in the crib, his eyes on the spinning mobile above his head. Sam smiled down at him, seeing his absolute innocence. Sam was going to save himself from the horrors that he would witness but never remember.

He turned away from his younger self and took his place beside the changing table in the corner. He wanted to be out of sight when the demon arrived so he could act before he was detected. He wanted to get the shot off fast. He hoped as soon as it was over, as soon as Azazel was dead, he would be swept back to his own time straight away, but if not, he would have to get out as fast as he could before Mary and John saw him. He could probably make the drop from the window without breaking anything if he lowered himself first, not that a broken bone would last. He much preferred the idea of being swept home straight away though. The sooner he was back there, ready to start his new life, the better.

He watched the clock ticking past the minutes, waiting for the moment Azazel would arrive and listening to his young-self gurgling happily. The minute hand reached twelve and at the same moment there was a flicker of the night light and a man appeared in front of the crib. He was wearing a long overcoat and his hair reached the nape of his neck.

Sam took less than a split second to raise the colt and cock it. His finger started to squeeze the trigger, his heart racing, but at the same moment, the man spun around and swept a hand through the air. Sam was shoved back against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him and knock the colt out of his hands.

Yellow eyes met Sam's and Azazel smiled. "Hello," he said. "And what can I do for you?"

"You can die," Sam said, fighting against the demon's hold to be free.

Azazel looked down at the gun on the floor and he smiled cruelly. "So, it has been found again. Are you somehow related to the last man that wanted to use that on me?"

"Yes," Sam snarled, fighting harder than ever. "He's my brother."

"And you're a man out of your time, just like he was. Well, you are a persistent family, I'll give you that. Are you the psychic one?" He sniffed the air. "You are! What did you get?"

Sam ignored the question and snarled, "I'm going to end you!"

There was a sound in the hall and the demon waved a hand at him again. Sam felt his breath rush out of him again as the demon pressed a finger to his lips.

"John, is he hungry?" Mary's drowsy voice came from the doorway, though Sam couldn't see her.

"Mom, run!" He tried to shout but the words were a mere breath of air. The demon had stolen his voice. It didn't stop him trying though. He begged her to leave, to run away and not look back. If she didn't interrupt, Azazel would feed Sam the blood and leave. She need never die.

Azazel turned his head slightly and shushed her.

"All right," she said, and Sam heard her footsteps disappear along the hall.

"That's better," Azazel said.

He brought up his wrist and cut across it with a fingernail. Sam had seen this before, when the demon had visited him in a dream, but to be here in the present and watching, unable to stop it, was so much worse. He tried desperately to free himself, his eyes on the colt, knowing what he needed to do but unable to do it. He could only watch as Azazel dripped the blood into the baby's mouth as he began to fuss.

Sam felt tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched, unable to do a thing, knowing that his plan was doomed unless he could kill the demon. He was infected by the blood now, on the path to the apocalypse unless Azazel died.

"Sammy! Sammy!" Mary voice was coming along the hall again, and Sam willed Azazel to leave. If she could just live, things would be different still. It might not end with Lucifer being freed.

She rushed into the room and Azazel turned to look at her. Her eyes widened and she looked terrified. "It's you!"

"Mom!" Sam bellowed silently. "Run!"

Though he had made no sound, she seemed to sense him there. She looked into his corner where he was pinned to the wall and her mouth dropped open. "You?"

"I'm sorry," Sam said soundlessly. "I am so sorry. I love you, Mom. Please go. Run!"

It was too late. Azazel was already in action. He held out a hand to Mary and her feet slid across the floor to the wall. She was drawn upwards by an inexorable force until she was pinned against the ceiling. Azazel moved his hand in a slashing movement and a gash of blood appeared on her stomach. Sam cried out as she screamed. He felt sickened and horrified. He struggled to be free, knowing it was too late to save his mother but not too late to kill the demon, but he was stuck fast.

Azazel turned his attention on Sam and walked toward him slowly. He bent to pick up the colt, but his theatrical movements were too slow. Anna appeared with a flutter of sound and snatched it up. She reached for Sam's arm and then he was swept away, his father's voice calling Mary's name echoing in his ears.

They came to a stop in the backyard of a house in darkness. He was free to move, and he immediately rushed at Anna with his fists bunched. "How could you?" he shouted. "Why didn't you help her?"

She pushed him away and Sam fell onto his back.

"I couldn't," she said, and Sam thought he heard regret in her voice. "I never had that power."

Sam struggled to his feet again, his heaving sobs making him unsteady. "She's dying even now, my mom is dying, and you took me away."

"I didn't want you to see it happen," she said. "I thought I could spare you that at least."

"You could have spared me from it all!" Sam shouted. "She needn't have died. You could have saved the world!"

"I couldn't," she said. "It's impossible."

Sam turned away and swiped a hand over his tearstained face. He had seen many things in his life, he had seen his own brother torn apart by hellhounds, and that had destroyed him, but he had never felt so utterly helpless as he did now. Even as Dean had died, Sam had known he would find a way to bring him back. He would save him. Now the whole world was doomed, and Sam couldn't save it. The life he had imagined and lost didn't even occur to him. He was consumed by his mother's death and his family's loss, by the world's fate.

"You could have helped," he said tearfully.

"I couldn't," she said through her teeth. "Whatever happened, happened. You were always brought back here. You were always there that night, and I always saved you. That's is fact."

"And the battle? Will Lucifer and Michael fight? Is that fact, too?"

"I don't know. All I know is it will happen if it always did in the circle of time."

Sam bent over and tried to breathe past the agony in his chest. He felt like his heart was being squeezed by an iron fist.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said.

"The hell you are!" Sam snarled. "You wanted this."

"I don't want the end. I didn't want your mother to die. I just knew it had to happen."

Fresh tears streamed down Sam's cheeks. He had failed. She was gone. Their lives were changed forever, and the world was on a path to destruction because of that failure.

He turned and walked away from her. He could hear firetrucks in the distance drawing close, and he followed the sound automatically, returning to the scene of his failure.

Anna fell into step at his side. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you, you monster," Sam snapped.

Anna sighed. "You can go, I won't try to stop you, but you shouldn't go back there, Sam. You don't need to see it."

"Screw you, Anna. You know nothing about what I need."

Anna sighed. If Sam didn't know better, he'd believe she really felt regret for him. "I'll take this back where it belongs," she said, holding up the colt. "And I'll see you again. When you're ready to listen, pray. I'll come."

"I'll never want you," Sam said.

"You will," she said and then, with a soft breath of wind, she disappeared.

Sam walked out of the backyard and to the street. He couldn't hear the firetrucks' sirens now, but he could hear the rumble of the engines. He supposed they'd reached their destination. He followed the sound around a corner, coming to his family's home. A crowd had formed in front of the burning house, but he saw one small group in particular. John was sitting on the hood of the Impala, Dean at his side and Sam cradled in his arms. Dean and John bore shell-shocked expressions and Sam moved fitfully in his blankets.

Sam felt new tears streak down his cheeks at the sight of them. He knew he should leave, he couldn't stay and see this, but he feet felt as though they were nailed to the sidewalk. He just stared at them in horror, his view occasionally occluded by a firefighter or neighbor crossing his path to offer blankets and comfort to them.

A gentle hand settled on Sam's arm, and Sam turned to see Missouri standing at his side. Her eyes were tear-streaked and her lip trembled. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.

Sam shook his head dolefully. "I couldn't do it. I tried, but he still killed her."

"I know," she said gently.

Sam looked away from her, back to the small family grouped on the Impala. He wanted to do something for them, but there was nothing he could do that people weren't already doing.

"Come on, Sam," Missouri said. "You shouldn't be here."

"Where should I be?" Sam asked in a dead voice.

"Home with me. I know you want to help them, but people are going to start to notice you soon. We can't let that happen."

Sam knew she was right. He had no more than a passing acquaintance with the Winchesters, but he was obviously upset and that would draw attention.

He started to walk away in the direction of the edge of town where his house was. He'd walked there rather than bring his car as he'd wanted to make things as easy as he could for Missouri after he was gone. He had said goodbye to his house and left letters for James, Missouri and George there. He would have to burn them now.

"Not yet, Sam," Missouri said, rushing after him and taking his hand. "Come home with me."

Sam had no will to argue with her. He had no will for anything. He was directionless. He allowed her to lead him around the corner towards her house without a word. He could still smell the smoke and hear the rumble of the engines that battled the flames.

When they reached the house, Missouri opened the door and gestured him inside. Sam heard the TV playing, and he froze. He had forgotten about James. It was still too early for him to be in bed.

"Mom?" James called.

"I'm back," Missouri said. "Stay there and watch your show. I'll be there soon."

She gestured Sam into the kitchen and to a seat at the table. Sam sat down and leaned his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands as the tears began to flow again.

Missouri busied herself at the counter for a moment and then came back to him and set something down with a chink. Sam lowered his hands and saw a glass with a generous measure of whiskey in front of him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

She sat down beside him and laid a hand on his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam sipped his whiskey and then set it down. "I got there in time, I had the colt, but Azazel pinned me to the wall and I couldn't move. I saw it all, Missouri. I watched her die, and I couldn't do or say a thing."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, Anna came and took me out. I think he was going to shoot me with the colt. Hell, it might even have worked." He laughed softly. "Something good might have come from it after all."

"You don't mean that," Missouri said.

"Don't I? The colt might have worked. It would be better for the world if I was dead. Anna could have torn me apart like she planned to before and made it so I could never be brought back. She could have saved the world."

"No!" Missouri snapped. "Nothing would be saved if you were dead. The world would be changed for the worse. You're needed, Sam."

Needed. That was exactly the problem. Lucifer needed Sam, and if he got him, it would all end.

"I am not needed for anything good," he said.

"What is happening in your time?" she asked. "You have told me a lot but not everything. I want to know what's happening in 2010 that scares you so much. Tell me, Sam."

"I can't," Sam said. "It will change you."

"Whatever it is can't be worse than what I am imagining. I am picturing all kinds of horrors coming for me and my family. I need to know what it is."

Perhaps she deserved to know. Perhaps it was because Sam had lost all his defenses in his grief. Perhaps he was just being selfish. Whatever it was, Sam decided to tell her. "The end is coming in 2010," he said. "The real end. The apocalypse. The world is ending because of me."

Missouri sucked in a harsh breath. "Not you."

"Me," Sam said firmly. "I do it."

"What happened?"

Sam could tell she was asking so she could find a way to refute his blame, but she wouldn't find it. Sam was the one that had made that mistake.

"What Azazel did to me, the baby, tonight set the world on a path downwards. It was a plan set in motion long ago; I needed to be born and primed for my part in it. Mom didn't need to die, but she interrupted the demon and he killed her for it. He was there for me."

"What did he want?"

"He fed me demon blood," Sam said. "I had, I have, demon blood in me, and not just from him. Things happened, will happen, a lot of bad things, and they will lead to me being in a chapel in Maryland with a demon named Lilith. She will be the one trying to start the apocalypse by breaking seals, and I will think I'm saving the world by killing her, but it's the opposite. Her death is the last seal. When I kill her, I will free Lucifer from a cage in Hell into the world. He will want to bring about the end."

"Lucifer is real?" Missouri asked in a breathy voice.

"Real and coming," Sam said. "All because of me."

"You didn't know though," Missouri said, seeming relieved to have found a defense for him. "You thought you were saving the world."

"I did," Sam agreed. "But I should have stopped. It wasn't just me killing her that did it. It was how. I used my mind. When Azazel fed me his blood, it changed me, made me psychic. I had visions and then later learned to exorcise demons with my mind. I couldn't do it alone though. I needed the blood."

"The blood Azazel gave you?"

"That and the blood I gave myself. There was a demon called Ruby that I thought was on our side. I drank her blood to give myself power. I drank so much I became less than human. I was so twisted by it that I killed a woman. She was a demon, but the meatsuit wasn't. She was just a woman that had been violated." He stared across the room, not wanting to meet Missouri's eye. "She died because of me, and she was just the first of many. When Lucifer was freed, he started killing people. He slaughtered a whole town so he could free Death. That would never have happened without me. And it won't end there. He wants to destroy the world if he wins, and if he doesn't, if he dies, Michael will win but their battle will kill millions. So you see, Missouri, this was about more than saving my family. I have ended the world by failing."

Missouri touched his arm. "Look at me, Sam."

Sam forced himself to turn to her and look into her eyes. He expected hatred, but she merely looked sad. There was no accusation in her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You're sorry?" Sam laughed. "What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one that did this. I ended it all because I was arrogant and stupid."

"I'm sorry that all of this was laid on you when you were just a baby. You were set on a path today and that led you to that place. You made some mistakes, I'm not denying that, but your intentions were good."

"The world is ending!" Sam snapped.

Missouri nodded. "I heard you. And I won't pretend that doesn't scare me, but it was not your fault. You didn't just tell me your story; you showed me in your mind, too. I read your thoughts and I know what you were thinking and feeling when it happened. You aren't to blame for anything other than being tricked by a demon."

Sam leapt to his feet, sending the chair crashing back to the floor. He had to get out of there. He couldn't bear Missouri's sympathy and understanding on top of everything else that had happened to him that night. He needed to get away.

As he strode through the hall James appeared at the living room door, "Mom, are you… Sam!" His face lit up with joy. "You're here! I thought you were going away."

Sam shook his head curtly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not?" James beamed at him. "That's great."

Sam yanked open the door and strode out into the smoky scented air, down the steps and along the path.

"Sam!" Missouri shouted behind him, but he didn't turn. He needed to get away from her and James. He couldn't breathe with them there. James was so happy and Missouri was giving him undeserved comfort. It was so wrong.

He didn't need them. He needed Dean. He couldn't see his brother though. He was so close, just around the corner, an innocent child, and his life had been destroyed. Sam couldn't see his real brother again for almost thirty years, and when he did, the world would be ending.

All because of Sam.

So… That didn't exactly go to plan. Sam was never going to defeat Azazel here, but this chapter was still brutal to write and edit. I was caught up in the plan with Sam.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx