Prompt: Thank you to AllShallFade777 for this prompt!

Season 8 AU, where Sam IS the one who frees Dean from purgatory, but at a terrible price to himself. Somehow Dean is still aware of the alternate reality where Sam didn't save him and Dean is mad at him, so then he can be all, omg, this is NOT what I wanted, I'd rather Sam hadn't tried to save me after all(bc let's face it, that's pretty much always their reaction when the other sacrifices something for them anyway).

Warning: Dark themes concerning suicide in this chapter.

Set: Early season 8, and 12x02… it'll come together, I promise :D

A/N: I've never written an AU, really, and I don't tend to read them either, so bear with me if this chapter is poorly written :) hopefully I did the prompt justice, at least!

Dean's hands were shaking. Sam could see it.

"You bastard," he said, turning around and looking at Sam with fury. "What the hell did you do?"

Sam didn't answer. He was still looking at his brother with wonder; his brother, who was alive, and back with him, physically there.

"What did you do, Sam?!" Dean said again, and his voice was near a shout.

"I… it's okay, Dean, I did what I needed to do to get you back," Sam said. His voice started off cracked and quiet, and he had to clear his throat.

"There's a price tag. There's always a damn price tag. What was it?"

"I didn't sell my soul or anything," Sam began, leaning back onto the motel bed. "I didn't talk to any demons or monsters. The deal was good, Dean, it wasn't evil."

"Then why aren't you telling me?" Dean demanded. "I didn't just spring out of Purgatory because of the goodness of some god's heart."

Sam couldn't even be bothered to get angry at his brother's tone. The fact that Dean was there at all, and not Purgatory, had him keeping himself from smiling.

He'd been alone for twenty-nine days. It had taken twenty-nine days for him to get his brother resurrected and walking the earth again. It was the worst twenty-nine days of his life; he had absolutely no one else to talk to. No one to support him, no one to listen to him, no one to keep him occupied.

Dean sat down across from him on the other motel bed, and his expression softened. "Sammy, you need to tell me."

Sam drew in his breath. "I found the Greek goddess of innocence. Her name's Astraea."

Time seemed to slow to molasses as he spoke. Dean's undivided attention was on him, and they were in a rural town, so there was no background ambience to distract from Sam's words.

"She knew about what had happened, somehow," Sam continued. "She took pity on me. Said that deep down I was innocent, or that I deserved innocence. I was too messed up to be listening seriously, to be honest." He laughed feebly at his own words, even though they weren't funny.

"And?" Dean prompted.

"She… she said that she'd bring you back. You were 'good', she told me. Pure of heart or some crap. And the only way that I could tip the cosmic scales to bring you back was to compensate for the evil I've brought into the world. I need to have my slate cleaned, I guess, so that I'm innocent again." Again Sam laughed, hollowly. It was better than facing all of the things that he'd done.

"Compensate," Dean repeated flatly.

"To keep the balance of nature, I think. It's fine, Dean. I'm just… I promised her that I…" He struggled with the delivery of the words; the last thing he wanted was for Dean to kill him on the spot. "I'm going to sacrifice myself to her. She's a goddess, and she needs sacrifices to survive. She said that if… I sacrificed myself in her name, that it would undo the things I've done. That the strength of proving my innocence could bring you back." Sam finished with his eyes looking away from Dean's. Minutes ago he couldn't take his eyes off of his brother, but now he couldn't look him in the eye.

"How much time?" Dean asked, his tone devoid of all emotion.

"The full moon… tonight."

Dean had lunged forward so quickly that Sam had no time to react, and the fist connecting with the side of his face caught him off guard. He didn't cry out, instead letting the blow ripple through him. Dean turned, his breath heavy.

"Dean, we both know this is how it's going to be," Sam said, keeping his tone light. "It's going to be a never-ending cycle, because apparently neither of us has the gumption to-"

"Dammit, Sam, we told each other we wouldn't do this anymore!" Dean interrupted. "We agreed! If you weren't about to friggin' sacrifice yourself to a Greek goddess, I'd break your jaw."

The look in his eyes told Sam that his brother was serious.
"What was I supposed to do?" he said, more defensively. "Look, you know better than anyone how hard it is to-"

He was interrupted, but not by Dean this time. The walls of the motel began to shake, the paint peeling and the pictures falling off of the walls.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered. He turned to Dean. "Is this an earthquake?"

Dean only frowned at the walls, as though listening for something. Moments later, Sam heard it too; the echoes of a voice - but not just any voice, Dean's voice. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from, because it seemed to echo from every crevice in the room - like the walls and floors themselves were the speakers.

"So you just turned tail on the family business."

Dean's echoing voice was angry and cold. Sam looked at Dean, bemused, but Dean looked equally bewildered at the floating, ghostly voice in their motel room.

"Nothing says family quite like the whole family being dead."

This time it was Sam's voice. Sam frowned at the nonchalance in his statement; he couldn't recall ever saying anything like that in his life.

"I wasn't dead. In fact, I was knee-deep in God's armpit killing monsters, which, I thought, is what we actually do."

"Yes, Dean. And far as I knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of my family killed. I had no one – no one. And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone. And, honestly, I-I didn't exactly have a roadmap. So, yeah, I-I fixed up the Impala, and I just... drove."

Dean's eyes met Sam's. The disembodied conversation was about Purgatory, but it was different - Sam had never said any of this, and nor had Dean.

"After you looked for me."

Dean's voice was both angry and questioning. The ghostly Sam voice didn't respond.

"Did you look for me, Sam?"

Again, no answer. The motel began to shake again, and Sam was wondering if they should take cover in the bathtub when it suddenly stopped.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked, standing up. "Some sort of ghost? Or vision, or...or…" He couldn't think of a reasonable explanation.

"Alternate universe," Dean said, his posture and voice tense. "In which you didn't promise to sacrifice yourself and I still got out."

Dean's point was clear; he hated Sam for having done what he did. He despised him for continuing the perpetual cycle of life and death; he abhorred him for doing what they had agreed not to do.

"Don't pull that crap on me, Dean, I know what you're saying," Sam said, and he angrily grabbed a beer and popped it open for the sole purpose of having something to do with his hands. "How was I supposed to know? Alternate universe or not, there's no way that I could have sat and done nothing, letting you rot in Purgatory-"

"But you did," Dean said, his eyes narrowing. "And I got out. And you wouldn't have to sacrifice yourself."

"But I did," Sam said, and to his surprise he was calm. "And this is it. This time, we stop. You're not going to change my mind or anything that happens after I sacrifice myself. Don't do anything, Dean. I mean it."

Dean's glare at him was built from pure hatred. "You think I'd want to bring you back now?" he snarled. "This is all your fault, Sam, this whole mess. You should've left me there, and it all would've been fine."

The words would have stung but Sam didn't care. Maybe it was because he knew he'd be dying, maybe it was the fact that they'd gone through this before. Whatever it was, he was done.

"Well, I'm sorry I saved your sorry ass," Sam snapped, leaving the motel room without looking back to see if Dean was following. "See you on the other side, someday."

With that he left, and he let his feet carry him to another car. He jumped it, pleased to see that the motel door hadn't reopened. Dean wasn't following him.

Something in his chest felt wrong. Their argument, it wasn't right.

Not that an argument ever felt right, but this one was just wrong. It felt flat, empty. Like there was no emotion in it. It felt… manufactured. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it. Whatever it was, it felt off.

Even if Dean was right, and in some strange alternate universe he hadn't saved his brother, Sam still didn't regret what he did. It was better this way, for him to at least die with the knowledge that the goddess of innocence was purging him of the horrible things he'd done in his life, than for Dean to be stuck in "God's armpit".

Dean would be okay, he reasoned. It was only then that it struck him that this was his last day on Earth, and that he wouldn't be returning to the motel that night. The thought made his chest go cold, and again he had the feeling that it was all wrong.

Why would Dean let him go? That couldn't be right. Maybe Astraea hadn't brought Dean back right. He could be a shapeshifter, in place of his brother so that the goddess could get her sacrifice without having to use the mojo to get Dean out of Purgatory.

But that also couldn't be right. Sam had done his homework and summoned Astraea himself, so he was positive that she was the goddess of innocence - and a goddess of innocence wouldn't screw him over. The thought wasn't enough to reassure him and his stomach continued to flip-flop.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn't realized his car was drifting into the other lane, and he jerked the wheel to the right as the horn of the car behind him blared.

He picked a lowly inn that was on the outskirts of a town at least two hours away from where he'd taken off from Dean. It smelled like cats and the place looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks, but it was cheap and Dean wouldn't think to check the inns.

Sam wasn't taking any chances. He didn't care how pissed Dean was at him; he wasn't going to let his brother be taken back to Purgatory.

That's when the walls started shaking again.

"Was there a girl?" Dean's voice, empty.

"The girl had nothing to do with it."

"There was a girl."

Dean must've been right. Unless Sam was hallucinating, he'd never had a conversation like this with his brother before.

"Yeah. There was, and then there wasn't. Any more questions?"

In this alternate universe Sam clearly hadn't saved Dean; instead, he'd holed up with a girl yet somehow Dean had still made his way back. The walls fell silent again and Sam exhaled a shaky breath. He still needed to do this, because Astraea would take Dean straight back to Purgatory if he didn't.

The sun was setting and Sam felt like he'd plunged into an icy bath but at the same time he felt calm, as though there was absolutely nothing he could do and and he'd accepted his fate. He fingered his phone in his palm, contemplating calling Dean to say goodbye.

On one hand, Dean could track him down and stop him from doing the sacrifice. But on the other hand, this could be his last chance at speaking with his brother. Besides, he was hours away from Dean, and there was no way that his brother could make it there in time to stop him.

He dialed Dean's number.

"Sam." Dean's voice was flat again. Strangely empty of anything.

"Hey. I'm just calling to say… I'm just calling," Sam said, glancing out of the window. The moon was just beginning to rise.

"You going through with the sacrifice?"

"You can't stop me, Dean, I promised I'd save you and that's what I'm doing."

It took Dean several minutes to respond. "I wish you hadn't. I wish that you'd done nothing. We'd both be fine if you'd done nothing."

"You don't know that," Sam said, his voice slightly desperate. He leveled his voice out and added, "Besides, there's a reason it's an alternate universe, Dean - it's not happening here, and it's not going to happen. You've got to accept that this is the way things are, and the only way for you to be saved is for me to do this."

"Go ahead." There was a pause. "See if I care, Sam. You screwed up again. I can't always be cleaning up your messes, 'taking care of my little brother' like Dad always said. You're going to have to deal with it on your own this time."

Sam felt like his breath had been knocked out of him. "Yeah. Uh, I-I get that. Okay. Good."

The phone call ended. Dean had hung up on him.

Sam set the phone down slowly, feeling numb, both physically and emotionally. He glanced out the window; the full moon was definitely out now.

There was no time like the present.

"Astraea?" Sam said to the open air, and the temperature in the room warmed slightly. She was letting him know that she was there, and ready for the sacrifice.

Sam picked up his gun. It was the same one he'd gotten as a teenager. Dean had taught him how to use it. He'd spent hours showing him how to aim, to reload, to clean it, and even flip it in the air so that he could look cool. With the safety on, of course, and the gun unloaded.

It didn't matter that Dean was pissed at him. He'd forgive him eventually, Sam reasoned to himself, loading the gun for the last time.

Funny how a month ago they were preoccupied with Dick Roman and the Leviathans, and now it was him alone again. Funny how quickly the road became a dead end, and how things had changed between him and Dean all within the matter of a day.

He felt the warmth of Astraea again, letting him know that he'd be okay, and that Dean would be okay. He pointed to the gun to his head and fired.

Dean woke up to Sam's yell of pain. He was out of bed and on his feet immediately, heading across the hallway of the bunker and into his brother's room.

"Sam!" he said loudly, grabbing his brother's shoulder. Sam flew upward, his eyes wide and wet with tears.

"Dean?" Sam said, slightly breathless. "I thought - I was - Astraea… she…"

"Sammy, it was a nightmare," Dean said, his hand still on Sam's shoulder.

"It was so real," Sam said quietly, leaning back on his forearms. "It was several years ago, and I… I actually did something about you being in Purgatory. I saved you, and sacrificed myself. But you were angry with me for saving me, and you didn't care…" The feeling of the gun to his head cut him short.

Dean wasn't sure if Sam was delirious or had actually dreamt that, but he shook it off. Talking about Purgatory opened old wounds between them that he didn't want to provoke. "It wasn't real, Sam."

"It was as real as the others," Sam said, his eyes slightly red. "Just as real. It was like an alternate universe, but I saved you, and I shot myself, but you hung up on me-"

"Sam, it's okay. You're in the bunker, not in some crap timeline," Dean assured him. "And you're not there either." He waited for Sam's breathing to slow. "You good?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sam said, straightening slightly. "Just… a really vivid dream."

"I swear, if we come across that bitch again, I'll rip her lungs out," Dean muttered. This was the third night in a row that Sam had been having nightmares. Ever since that Toni Brit had tortured him, and drugged him, he'd been having hallucination-dreams; dreams so real to Sam that they woke him up, yelling.

Cas had healed the physical wounds that she'd inflicted on Sam, but the effects of the drug on his mind had messed with him. And anyone that messed with Sam's mind (which had a record of being messed with) was officially on Dean's hit list.

Dean got up and refilled Sam's glass of water, and then it gave it to his little brother. Sam accepted it gratefully, taking small sips. His forehead was sweating and his eyes were still red-rimmed.

"It'll blow over eventually," Dean said to him, sitting down on his bed. "Whatever the hell she did to you, whatever she gave you, it'll get better."
Sam lifted his eyes up. "Yeah." He didn't sound convinced.

"So… this nightmare," Dean said after a moment. "You saved me from Purgatory?"

"Yeah. I sacrificed myself to the goddess of innocence," Sam said, smiling slightly. "If only I'd actually done that-"

"'If only'?" Dean repeated incredulously. "If only you had killed yourself so that way you could die knowing you'd saved me from Purgatory? We've gone over this since, Sam, I forgave you years ago."

Sam snorted slightly. "No matter what I do, you'll be pissed at me."

"Yeah. That's what you get for being a little bitch all the time," Dean bantered, standing up. "It's two in the morning. Think you'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said immediately, and Dean was glad to see that the stiffness in Sam's face had disappeared.

"I'll leave my door open," Dean said, and the message was clear. It would be like they'd be sleeping in the same room, like they were accustomed to. They'd grown up sleeping near each other. Having both of their doors open, knowing the other was right across the hall, was comforting - though Dean would never say that openly.

"G'night," Sam said, and then he added, his eyes brightening slightly, "Thanks, jerk."

A/N: I'm not sure if this was too confusing so I'm sorry if the plot seemed a bit tangled! Thank you so much for reading, and I appreciate all of the reviews!

By the way, I'm PSYCHED at the amount of support this story has gotten! 54 favorites and 75 follows - I never thought it would get this much! Thank you so much to every single one of you, you're all awesome!