Author's Note: Sorry I was on such a long hiatus guys. I had a lot of medical stuff going on these past couple of weeks to deal with, but I'm feeling a lot better now that it's all worked out. Thanks for all the messages and support. I really really appreciate it and I missed writing this story too. I hope you enjoy.

I'm beginning to feel physically ill when we get to Bobby's house and I realize that I can't continue on this way. My palms are sweaty and I'm terrified of leaving either of my brother's alone because I'm afraid of what Bobby might say to them about me. He greets all of us with awkward 'hellos' and Sam and Dean catch him up a little bit before hitting the sack. It's late and we're all exhausted from the trip. I pretend to sleep for a few hours before getting up again for a glass of water in the kitchen. Bobby sees me and smiles uncomfortably. I don't know what Sam and Dean said to him, but the façade is more unnerving than the open hostility.

"You don't have to pretend." I say to him calmly

"What?"

"To like me. You don't have to pretend. I know you don't like me. It's okay. You don't have to lie. Not in front of me." I shrug

I see him visibly relax as the coolness peppers his eyes and his smile fades into a sharp line. "Dislike and distrust are two very different things, Evan."

"And you have feel both of them towards me, and they're not so different, Bobby." I smile a little. "Come on, you've known me since I was four years old. I think that's long enough to know that you don't have to tip toe around my feelings."

"Why are we having this conversation, boy?" He's exasperated already. I tread lightly.

"Because we have to." Because they've chosen to need you. "You think I'm a monster."

His expression darkens. "I think we should be having this conversation with your brothers around.

"I can't. I can't talk to them about this." I say softly, almost in a whisper, lowering my head.

"What exactly are we talking about, boy?"

"Sweating. Trembling. My heart races sometimes for no reason and my stomach gets all tied up in knots. I feel sick but then it goes away and I feel better… I keep getting these nightmares."

"That's called anxiety. What do you dream about?"

"My mom. My brothers…" I pick my head up and look at him head on. "Adam. I know you think I killed him."

"Well?" He squints. "Did you?"

"I didn't. I made it out first. I wasn't sad that he didn't make it. I hated him, but I didn't kill him. There was a big piece of me that night that felt relieved that he was gone. Now I keep thinking."

I lean back against the wall. "Thinking if you want something to happen bad enough and it happens, does it make it your fault?" I feel a tingle zip through me. It feels amazing, but I don't break eye contact.

"You telling me that you feel guilty over what happened with Adam?"

"I don't think guilty is the word." I'm trembling now. A thin layer of tears glaze over my eyes and I finally look away.

"I keep telling myself that everything is going to be fine, but I'm not stupid and I've lost them both too many times to ignore that that might not be true anymore. Whether it's the apocalypse or from me screwing up somehow… I know hating Adam was wrong. It wasn't his fault that my dad didn't love me-"

"Son, your daddy loved you with everything he had."

"Left. He loved me with everything he had left, Bobby." I take a step forward. "I'm not trying to whine about it, but you and I both know it's true."

He falls silent.

"I didn't ask for this. All I want is my family, but I'm probably not going to get that, am I?"

"You'll always have family, son."

"Like I said, Bobby." I say backing away towards the staircase. "You don't have to lie." I turn and walk up the stairs without another word. I feel better already. Safer. As long as I stay off of Bobby's radar for a while, I know he won't make any waves for me. Not while he's busy trying to prove to himself what a better father figure he is compared to John. I sleep soundly for the first time in days that night.

"You can't do this." Dean barks at Sam.

"That's the consensus."

"All right. Awesome. Then, end of discussion."

"You son of a bitch." I glare at Sam from the couch.

"I'm just-"

"Trying your best?"

"It's not happening." Dean reaffirms as his phone starts to ring. Castiel is alive, but he's useless. Dean says he's so drained of grace that he's practically human. I don't care; I want to talk about Sam's plan to say yes to the devil. When Dean wanted to say to Michael, we locked him in the panic room, I don't know why Sam isn't getting the same treatment. Bobby is actually supporting his plan; then again, Dean has always been Bobby's favorite. What the hell did he care if Sam died? Grade A parenting there, "Dad". He makes me sick and I hate him.

I can tell Dean doesn't want to take me with them to go get Pestilence, he doesn't think I can handle it because I threw up that time with Crowley. It's a good thing he didn't notice the night sweats or he'd really be on my case right now, still he doesn't trust keeping me alone with Bobby again so soon after the last time so I know he won't leave me behind either. I tell him that I feel fine when he asks, and change the subject. His hands are tied. I load my things into the Impala and we peel away from Bobby's house with "Ramble On" bleeding out from the speakers so loud, it sounds like a live show.

We get there at night. It looks almost like a nursing home. Or at least I think it does. I've never seen a nursing home before.

"A whole building full of people. We don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's Pestilence. So, what do we do?" Sam asks.

"Hang on." Dean says scoping through his binoculars. He suddenly stops.

"What is it?" I ask, hanging over the front seat.

"Wait here."

"What are you gonna do?"

He and Sam exchange a look and then he turns back at me and squints. "I'm going inside. Wait here."

"You're going in alone?"

"I'm taking Sam." He says becoming irritated with me already. I feel like punching him in the jaw.

"So your big plan to beat Pestilence is to leave me in the car? Because if so, I'm a little confused about the binocular show." I glare at him. "You're going to need all the cover as you can get in there and you know what I'm capable of."

"Okay, what part of 'you're riding bench on this one' are you not getting?" He rounds on me, turning to face me. "This is how it works. I'm your big brother, you're fifteen, and I'm giving you a direct order to stay in this car until we get back. Am I clear?"

I'm so angry it's hard to breathe. It's so unfair. How could he do this to me? How could he treat me like this after everything we've been through? His eyes bear down on me and I shift into the backseat again and look to Sam, who's facing me now too. He doesn't say a word. He abandoned me. Again. I should've known he would've.

"Am I clear?" Dean repeats gruffer this time. His macho act is unimpressive. I clench my fists and force myself to look him in the eye again.

"Yes."

He throws another look at Sam and leaves. I can feel Sam's eyes on me but I stare out the window and wait for him to leave too. In the backseat of the car after my brothers leave; I can hear the hushed silence of the night. I'm all alone.

My phone hasn't buzzed in a while; Dean's half hour checkpoint text was almost an hour ago. I check my phone again to see if I missed something.

"All good here. Everything okay out there?"

"Fine."

Nope. That was fifty-seven minutes ago. I pick up the binoculars and peer through them, but I can't see anything going on. I toss them down next to me and start for the entrance.

"Evan!" I hear someone call from behind me. It sounds like Castiel. I turn and see him rushing over.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where are Sam and Dean?"

"The hell do you think they are?" I call over my shoulder and race inside with him close behind.

Pestilence has Sam and Dean on the floor by the time I find them. I hardly make it through the door before I'm laid out next to them spitting up blood.

"Ah, Evan. Didn't think you were going to make it. Please, join your brothers." He says. I don't know if he says anything else because I'm coughing so hard, but I don't think so because Castiel shows up right after. He cuts off Pestilence's ring finger and kills the demon lady that was protecting him. Pestilence says that it doesn't matter anyway, and that it's too late before disappearing in front of our eyes. The four of us ride back to Bobby's place in silence. Turns out Bobby sold his soul to Crowley for information about Death, the last horseman. He's going to kill everyone in Chicago.

I'm sixteen years old and my brother Sam has chosen to say 'yes' to the devil. Everyone is supporting his decision. Maybe even Dean, I don't know, he's in Chicago trying to kill Death on his own. Sam tells me to focus on what I'm doing and hands me a gun. We're in a warehouse full of Croats and we have to kill everyone.

"Evan! They're good! They're good, they're not infected." Sam calls to me. I know that already. What did he think I was going to do? Kill a bunch of innocent people?

We take them all out, Sam and I, it feels good. I smile at him and raise my hand up for a high five and he takes it, but he's not as pumped as I am, for a second, I'm confused but then I remember what his problem is and I push past him and wait in the truck.

"I don't want you to do it, Sam." I say when we get back to Bobby's.

"I know."

"Then don't do it. I never ask for anything, don't do this."

He rests his forehead on the palm of his hand. "Evan, I don't want to. I really don't."

"Then don't." I squint. "Nobody is making you do anything."

"I'm the only one who can stop this." He says looking at me. Pleading with me to understand. I stare back at him unrelenting. "Evan, I'm the one who let him out in the first place. All those innocent people who'd lose their lives over this? Their blood would be on my hands. I couldn't live like that. I just…" He rubbed at his eye and turned his face.

"So because you're feeling guilty over that crap you pulled with your stupid demon girlfriend, you get to kill yourself and then everything will be okay again?"

"What?" He frowned, eyes widening at me, "Is that really what you think this is?"

"Isn't it? You're can't handle the guilt because you messed up so you're giving up? Killing yourself?"

"That's not true." He says, hardening his incredulous gaze

"Yes it is, Sam. If you're going to die anyway, at least be honest with yourself about it. You're a goddamn mess and that's all this is about. You don't care about anyone but yourself and your own damn redemption." My voice is steady but I can feel tremors running through my body. I don't think he can see them.

"Stop it." His eyes are glassy, but it looks like he might take a swing at me. I wish he would.

"You first."

"I can't!" He shouts at me, "Look, I'm sorry that you don't get it, Evan. I'm really sorry. I don't want this for you. You know, maybe you're right. I do feel like this is my fault and I feel guilty, but you're wrong if you think this is only about me!"

"Yeah right." I roll my eyes. They ache. I'm so tired.

"Don't roll your eyes!" He grips my shoulders, "Listen to me."

"You never listen to me."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is!" I say and push him off of me. "Yes it is. You and Dean never listen to me. All you do is spout orders all the time and expect me to listen."

"We're your brothers, Evan. That's our job. When I was younger I didn't like it either, but that doesn't mean that we don't care about you. You know that."

"Well, we'll see all the good your caring does when you're dead, Sam." I shrug.

"Evan." He sighs softly

"Sam?"

"I'm sorry." He says

"Yeah." I chuckle bitterly, nodding "Yeah, Sam. I know. You're sorry. I know." I turn and leave him standing there by himself to wallow in his sorrow.