This chapter contains direct dialog from the series finale, 'Carry On'.

Dean's disposition seemed to get more foul with each passing day. He appeared to delight in causing Sam pain. Sam was sure Dean had given him a slight concussion, slamming his head against the island and the next day, Dean had cracked two of his ribs when Sam told him that he wanted to be left alone. Today, Sam walked on eggshells around him, afraid to say anything that might set him off. He was sitting in the war room, staring at an untouched glass of bourbon, just thinking about what to do about Dean. He couldn't go on like this much longer. He was sure that Dean would kill him. Sam felt his presence in the room before he spoke.

"What's the matter, Sammy?", Dean cooed in his ear. Dean's hands slithered up over Sam's shoulders, making him jump and knocking his glass over. Dean threw his hands up and took a step back. "Whoa! Touchy, aren't we?" Dean snickered and moved around the table to sit across from Sam. He put hs hand up on the table and interlocked his fingers together.

"What do you want, Dean?", Sam asked with a heavy sigh. Dean glared at him, the muscles in his jaw twitching in anger. Dean's eyes bored into Sam and he tilted his head, trying to read Sam's mind.

"I want to know why you're trying to get rid of me!", Dean snarled. "And here, thought we were getting along so well!" Sam watched the vein in Dean's neck bulge as he spoke. "Aren't we getting along, Sam?" Dean leaned over the table, sneering at his brother.

"You call a concussion and two cracked ribs getting along, Dean?", Sam barked back. Sam leaned over the table as much as he was able with his broken ribs, holding his side and hissing in pain before he growled at Dean. "Cuz from where I'm sitting, that's seems more like abuse!" Dean suddenly reached across the table with both hands and grabbed Sam by the collar.

"You wanna see abuse, Sammy?", Dean breathed in Sam's face. "I'll fuckin' show you abuse!" Dean hauled Sam across the table and threw him to the floor. Sam rolled over on his back, holding his side and groaning in pain. Dean stood over Sam with one foot on either side of Sam's stomach, just staring down at him and breathing hard. He crouched over Sam and grabbed his shirt again, pulling him up so that he was at eye level with Dean. He held him by the collar with one hand while throwing punches into Sam's face with the other. Sam's head was thrown to the side as Dean's fist slammed into his eye, nose, and jaw, over and over again.

"Dea... Dean... p-please... stop!", Sam whimpered between blows. Sam tried to throw his hands up to protect his battered face,but Dean slapped them away and started punching with his other hand. Sam screamed in pain and fear and Dean finally stopped punching, but the hate in his eyes frightened Sam more than the punches ever could.

"You're such a pussy, Sam!", Dean whispered in Sam's face. "I don't know why I ever stayed with you so long. You've never been anything but dead weight! A rock in my shoe! A thorn in my side!" Sam's face was full of shock and fear. Pain and shame. He tried to scramble out from under Dean, pushing back with his feet, but Dean jerked him back. "You can't get away from me, Sammy! Hell, you can't live without me!" Dean flung Sam back down onto the hard floor, stepped over him, and stalked out of the room. When the door to Dean's room slammed shut, Sam flinched. His head spun and he knew he was losing consciousness. He just hoped that his sleep would be dreamless. Sam wasn't that lucky.

"Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you...", Dean whispered, tears rolling down his face as he placed his fist over Sam's hear. "Right here... every day. Every day you're out there and you're li... And you're living and you're fighting, 'cause you... You always keep fighting." Dean grabbed Sam's face in both hands and pulled it up to look at him. "You hear me? I'll be there every step. I love you so much." Sam was sobbing uncontrollably. "My baby brother. Oh, man. Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is. It is, and that's... Man... that's okay. Dean was wheezing and having trouble focusing on Sam's face again. "I need you to... I need you to promise me. I need you to... to... to tell me... that it's okay. I need you to tell me that it's okay", Dean pleaded.

"No!", Sam whimpered, looking away as he frantically shook his head.

"Look at me", Dean continued to plead with his little brother. "Look at me. I need... I need... I need you to tell me that it's okay." Dean's hand went to hs own chest as he choked out the words. "I need you to tell me... Tell me it's okay." Sam reached out and put his hand over Dean's.

"Dean…", Sam croaked through his tears. "It's okay. You can go now." Dean placed his other hand over Sam's and the brothers leaned their foreheads against each other, crying silently.

"Goodbye, Sam", Dean whispered breathlessly. "Goodbye." Dean closed his eyes as one final tear streamed down his face. His head fell forward onto Sam's shoulder and Sam wailed as he held onto him. Sam woke up with tears streaming down his.

"I don't... I don't understand what's happening!", Sam sobbed to himself, throwing his hands up over his face. He slammed his fists down hard on the floor at his sides as he screamed in confusion and fear. "Somebody... PLEASE... tell me what the FUCK is happening!" Sam laid there staring at the ceiling, terrified. Ever since the cage Sam's greatest fear, other than having to live without his brother, was losing his mind. Was this what insanity looked like? Was he doing all of this to himself? Both of his greatest fears coming true at the same time? It seemed like all he felt since walking in the door of the bunker was fear! Fear. The gears in Sam's brain were turning and he thought about all the monsters that he and Dean had ganked over the years and one particular monster stood out above all the others.

Djinn. But not just any Djinn, this was a sort of 'bastard' off-shoot of the Djinn. Instead of feeding on human blood, like a normal Djinn, this creature feeds on fear. They put people into a nightmare state, while they fed, slowly turning their victims insides into jelly. If that is what he was dealing with, than Sam had to find a way to break out of this nightmare before it was too late. That is, if it wasn't too late already. Dean had helped Charlie escape this creature's induced nightmare by not fighting the the zombies in the never ending video game in her head. But that wouldn't work with the Dean that was kicking the crap out of him. Sam wasn't fighting him.

Sam pulled himself up slowly off of the floor and leaned heavily on the map table, clutching his broken ribs while his bloody nose dripped on the table. He had only one option left to him. But could he do it? Did he have the strength? To fight back? To maybe even kill his brother? He didn't know. And he knew that if he went down this road with doubt in his head, he would just end up dead.

Could he really go down that road?