I posted this previously as Fate's U-Turn then took it down for rewrites and other reasons. But after much searching (I mean that literally), I have found a beta who is incredibly awesome. Seriously, I didn't think my grammar was terrible, but now I'm quite happy to have found Eff-Dot. Who has given me encouragement and the drive to keep writing.

I will update every 2 weeks; (though I'll be updating sooner on FF due to their technical difficulties) since I've written quite a bit, updates will be steady for some time. If that changes, I'll let you know. I do appreciate feedback, favs, or follows. Also, the title comes from the song 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' by the Hollies. Thanks, and enjoy.

Prologue: U-Turn

Blue Earth, Minnesota (1999)

The door slammed, nearly smacking Dean in the face. He stopped dead when he heard the lock turn before Sammy stomped off, springs creaking in protest as his little brother threw himself upon the bed inside the room. Aware that it was best to leave Sam alone to cool off, Dean nearly walked away to give his brother that space. But Sam's harsh words echoed with painful, persistent beats through his mind: 'you're nothing but dad's obedient soldier. I hate you!' Dean knew that his brother didn't mean it, and once he cooled off, he would apologize, but that didn't stop his guilt from rising, or the recognition that Sam was correct.

They'd stayed in Blue Earth longer than planned because Jim was here, which signified a certain amount of security in his dad's paranoid mind. Plus, a string of hauntings had been plaguing the town when they arrived. Both were as good an excuse as any to keep them in the area longer. Jim, awesome man that he was, supported his reasons for remaining longer than planned. For once, his dad let it slide, allowing them to stay.

But maybe that had been a mistake, because with that extended time, Sam had made friends and formed attachments, inevitably making it more painful for his brother when the time came to leave. And the primary reason Dean learned that short-term flings were awesome.

God, he was sorry it had to be like this. Dean knew it wasn't right, and Sammy deserved better. But he also understood their dad was right. The thing that killed Mom was still out there, along with a swell of other monsters and demons. Normal just wasn't in the cards for their family.

Leaning his head against the wood of the door, Dean breathed in for a moment, dredging past the pain, and took a deep breath.

"Sammy-" but the apology got stuck in his throat. After a moment, he cleared the obstruction and decided they could stay till tomorrow night as a way of an apology. He could hear Sam breathing hard, a pained hiss escaping his lips, which made Dean reconsider his plan, but he knew better. This would help... "Listen, I'm going to step out, grab some movies – your favorites." His tone was light, pleading. Staying one more day would give Sam time to say goodbye to his friends, and screw Dad. He could wait another day. "Be back in a bit, Sammy."

No reply to his words, but Dean didn't expect it and hoped staying another day would go a long way to fixing things. Straightening, he walked away from Sam's bedroom, stopping when he reached Jim at the end of the hall. A gentle and understanding smile showed upon his features as he studied Dean intently. "Don't worry, son, Sam will come around. While you grab those movies, I'll whip up some popcorn. Stop by the store and pick up a few sodas, and we'll make a night of watching terrible B-movies." Dean grinned at Jim's reference to Sam and his favorite movies, which were an affront to Jim's tastes and his preference for the old classics.

Jim squeezed his shoulder tenderly and, before Dean could protest, pulled him into a hug. Leaving him frozen. "You're a good boy, Dean. Never think otherwise, son," Jim spoke softly in his ear, and Dean nearly pulled back. The words and gesture were an unfamiliarity that Dean rarely experienced. And which pulled up emotions and memories of better times before his mom's death that he would prefer to stay buried, or stay behind the bravado of too much chick-flick. But Jim released him and smiled sadly before clapping him on the shoulder and turning about. "Go on. I'll have everything set up when you get back," he stated before disappearing into the kitchen.

Dean stood stock still for a few seconds, Jim's actions driving home that it wasn't only Sam who wanted to stay. Taking a deep breath, he buried his conflicting emotions with practiced ease, and reminded himself to lay off the late-night Touched by an Angel reruns, and began to whistle a jaunty tune as he made his way outside.

Unaware that a divergence in fate was about to occur, altering everything.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean pushed a little girl out of the way of a speeding drunk driver and was hit dead-on for his heroic actions. Dean's last thoughts circled his little brother, 'Sammy... I'm sorry,' before death took him.

Jim glanced at the clock in his front room. One hour had passed since Dean left. Normally, Dean taking his time wouldn't worry him, as the boy was often diverted by a pretty face; but Jim knew that tonight Dean's concern would be for Sam alone, and he wouldn't rest until his brother's needs were met.

Though he cared for John, this awareness made him want to throttle the man. Dean's reactions were that of a parent, not a boy barely out of childhood. It's why his concern went from mild anxiety to full-fledged agitation as the minutes ticked past. He nearly stepped out to see what was keeping Dean—only aborting his plan when Sam left his bedroom. The boy's puffy cheeks and reddened eyes marked how much this move upset him and increased Jim's Irritation with John. But that irritation was an old argument he'd given up on since he enjoyed the boys' company and had no desire to see them stripped from his life.

But when ten more minutes swept past, and Sam noted his brother's absence, Jim stood up, prepared to go out and see what was keeping Dean. "Sam-." The kitchen phone started ringing before he could finish. Jim looked down at Sam, who'd settled upon the couch, staring moodily at the TV. "I'll be back." The earlier feeling of dread grew as he looked at the phone before he pushed the dread firmly down.

Receiving no reply from Sam, he moved into the kitchenette and picked up the phone, "Pastor, it's Travis," a pause followed. The Sheriff was a good man, who became aware of the supernatural through an accident, and now supported Jim when he needed a hand.

"Yes, Sheriff, what can I do for you?" He asked with a calmness that did not carry beyond his words. On the other end of the line, air was drawn in heavily at his question, and when the seconds started to tick past, Jim's earlier anxiety returned with pointed precision.

"Pastor…" a catch, "I'm sorry. There was an accident. I'm afraid that the young man staying with you, Dean… has been killed." Travis's words caused a tremor in his body as his mind rejected what was said.

Dean… dead?

No, that couldn't be. It was impossible.

Dean was too young. Travis continued, detailing how Dean saved a young girl and, in the process, ended his life, and Jim's thoughts stopped functioning as he realized with anguish that the boy, he cared for like his own was dead. His mind finally grasped that this was reality and not a cruel joke.

"Jim?"

His shock was cut off at Sam's questioning tone, concern touching his young features. Looking at Sam, finally seeing him around his growing pain and shock, Jim set the phone down, forgetting Travis was still on the line, his standard control slipping away and leaving him unable to react appropriately.

"Jim, what's wrong?" Sam's tone was edged with rising panic, "did something happen to Dean?"

Heaven

"Brother, you called?"

Michael's gaze did not turn from the vista of Heaven at Raphael's entrance; instead, his focus remained upon their home stretched out in all its stagnation. Questions continued to touch his thoughts, but one question dominated his mind: would Heaven thrive with the return of their father, and finally grow and change as it once did in days of old? A curiosity plagued him since his father had departed Heaven, leaving behind his last preordained decree that was now coming to fruition.

The apocalypse would bring Paradise to an imperfect land.

Except with Joshua's words, that decree had been distorted or, to be blunt, was falling into unknown territory. Without his true vessel, there was no guarantee he could defeat his brother. Certainly, there were other vessels that he could make use of; however, if Lucifer took possession of Sam Winchester, there was no assurance that he would triumph in a lesser vessel. This opened up the possibility of dooming all creation.

Despite this uncertainty, his father had left explicit instructions that Heaven was to stop looking for Dean Winchester's soul. Joshua revealed that everything would be disclosed as preordained when the time was appropriate.

Ambiguous and direct, it was just like his father. Tiresome.

"Stop all action to locate Dean Winchester's soul." The silence became strained at his words, so he turned away from Heaven and focused on Raphael. Finding as expected barely contained disquiet upon his brother's continence, waving outwards, "Joshua brought a message from Father." The concern evaporated and was replaced by the desperation that all his brethren felt in the absence of their father. "We will continue with the apocalypse as preordained. Have Zachariah share the information regarding the Horsemen's rings since the first seal will remain intact without the Righteous Man."

His brother did not react at first, but after a moment, he composed himself and nodded before leaving to carry out his instructions. Michael then refocused on Heaven.

Is this what you wanted, Father?

Detroit, Michigan (2009)

"So what do you say, Sammy?" Lucifer shrugged, and the decomposing meatsuit he was wearing stretched in a viscous parody of delight as he leered. "I don't want to sound like a crossroads demon, but it's a good deal."

It was. And if Lucifer was telling the truth, it would give his family the time they needed. While the plan had sounded great in his head, and when he initially laid it out, this was reality, and could blow up in their faces. And who was he kidding? Sam knew it would eventually come to this, but taking that final step to keep Lucifer contained terrified him. Because if his family didn't find a way to stop the Devil permanently, Sam wasn't confident he'd be around, or sane enough to help when the spell finally broke.

What if Lucifer was lying, and what if he wasn't strong enough to hold him until the spell was completed and Lucifer was sealed away?

It was that question that brought forward a memory of Dean. They'd just gotten out of school, and he'd been irritable because it was the first time he walked away with a less than perfect grade. After much harassment, his brother finally got him to spill on the reason he was acting like he'd just started his period - Dean's words, not his. Afterward, his brother laughed, annoying Sam even more. But he also said something that remained with him, even when Sam felt he had nothing else.

'Sammy, you really don't understand what you're capable of, but when I look at you, I see someone who's got the potential to change everything. And I have faith that you'll make the most of it. After all, you're my geek boy sidekick.'

Dean played it off, but eventually, they went to eat somewhere better than their usual fare and watched movies for the rest of the night. It had been a regularity with his brother; anytime he was upset, Dean would come to the rescue and distract him through irritability or his brand of love until he felt better. Sam just wished he had appreciated how much his brother had sacrificed for him when he was still alive. And not only Dean, but others were lost over the years: dad, Jim, Caleb, Ash, Missouri - more than he could name. Now here he stood, hoping he could hold Lucifer back for…?

That's right, his family and… that kid with… Dean's face. Sam pushed aside the painful lump that came whenever his thoughts touched Dean and focused on his family. They'd been through a lot, often making him question how they survived up to this point.

Demons, Azazel, Azazel's special kids, Lilith, the seals, and the angels.

The Fates had thrown everything they could at his family, but they still managed to come back for more. Taking a deep breath, Sam began to feel calmer; the reminder had given him a measure of strength to uphold his end and have faith that his family would find a way to beat the Devil. He just needed to give them the required time and trust that they could do it.

"It's Sam, and yes, I agree."

Gillette, Wyoming (2009)

X5-494 sat up in bed, a sick feeling beginning to clog his gut. Despite the risk of being reprimanded for being out of bed after lights out -not that he ever listened, especially since he met Ben - he moved carefully to the barred window in their barracks. He looked out at the forest surrounding Manticore's facility, wanting to know what was beyond it and why it made him feel sick.

And who was that man with floppy brown hair? Why did he keep seeing him? Why did his image make him feel miserable and desperate? Was he becoming defective?

The outside world looked peaceful enough. However, 494 instinctively knew something wasn't right. Out there, where the ordinaries lived out their lives without a care in the world, something terrible was happening. He was uncertain how he knew this, but instinctively 494 understood that something was happening that would change everything, and it frightened him. He looked away from the forest at the touch on his shoulder and found their unit leader-slash-older brother, 387, studying him intently. His brown eyes showed nothing before shifting to concern. After a second, he motioned to their beds, "come on, tomorrow we're fielding a demonstration, and we'll need to be at our best."

494 looked out the window before reluctantly following his brother back to bed. When he settled down and pulled the blanket over his head, 494 tried to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He was aware of the pending demonstration and what it meant, where success led to extra time in the yards, which was awesome and, dare he say it, fun. However, failure usually meant painful endurance training. But he couldn't sleep. That nagging sensation wouldn't let up. Something was wrong, and he was stuck here instead of out there where he should be.

When he felt a tug at his hand, 494 pulled the blanket down and found 319 eyeing him with the same warmth that had briefly ghosted across 387's features. His sister squeezed his hand affectionately, her smile warm and caring before she let go and settled back into her bed. Although he was grateful for his sibling's presence, 494 wished that nagging sense of anxiety would leave him alone. What would Ben say?

494 climbed down carefully, stopping when he reached the barred window frame with a cracked head. This is where Ben and his unit slept. He tapped the window quietly, using the code they'd worked out on Ben's last visit. 494 stopped when he saw his twin's face peeking out. A smile rose upon Ben's features, showing the same affection 319 and 387 had directed at him, and 494 motioned upwards before climbing back up to the rooftop. He jumped back and moved to one of the metal casings that housed the air conditioners for the compound. It was curved and provided enough coverage to protect them from the roving lights and nightly observers within the Manticore facility. Sitting down to wait for Ben, his eyes moved back to the forest, extending his vision to its limits. 494 hoped to see beyond it. He wished to figure out what was bothering him and why those feelings of wrongness wouldn't leave him alone.

At the touch on his arm, he found Ben looking him over carefully, his gaze searching. "What's wrong?" His twin didn't need verification of something being wrong, but this was a norm between them, probably because they were twins. Chewing on his lip in a habit he hadn't been able to shake, 494 turned his gaze back to the forest. He couldn't quite voice this feeling of nagging disquiet -and he had no words to describe the hazel-eyed man with the long brown hair.

"Something's wrong," he gestured to the surrounding forest, "out there. I don't know what it is, but I know something isn't right, and I shouldn't be here." He slammed his fists into the concrete, ignoring the sting, "I should be out there. I need to be out there!" Ben said nothing but he could feel him moving about, probably looking to see if they'd caught anyone's attention. Finally, he settled next to his brother.

"You're right. We all belong out there." He looked up at Ben's statements and found him studying him intently. That gaze always struck 494 hard, leaving him silent since only Lydecker looked at him with that level of concentration. But his CO's gaze was colder, expectant. It held none of the warmth Ben's carried. Then a smile slipped across his twin's features, driving away that intense focus. "We thought of a name for you and 319."

A name was a symbol you had to distinguish yourself or your family's gift to you. His unit had talked about it briefly, but they'd been caught and punished with extra field training. Afterward, no more mention of names was brought up. Considering it for a moment, he nodded for Ben to continue. "Max said your name should be Alec. Actually," he added, "she said 'smart-Alec,' but we eventually decided on Alec," he snickered. 494 pushed the name around as he tried to ignore the ill-feeling pushing through his thoughts, then smirked since he did enjoy irritating Max. It never ceased to amuse him.

"I like it, but what about 319?" Ben's smile was beatific as he leaned forward and pulled him into a hug that startled 494 - Alec. Because it inspired emotions he rarely felt and only around his unit, who were family. Ben was his twin, so maybe these feelings were natural. After a second of hesitation, Alec returned the gesture, his earlier sense of wrongness melting away like water wiped clean as his twin held him close and moved his hands down his back in soothing motions.

It could have been minutes or hours, but when Ben pulled back, his smile was tender, "Capri. It was pretty, like her." When Ben's cheeks colored, Alec looked at his twin, curious as to why he was turning red. It wasn't cold. Maybe he was getting sick? Then a spotlight passed their hiding spot, and they ducked further into the air conditioner's housing. When the coast was clear, they looked at one another, Ben's gaze questioning. "Is that feeling still there?"

Alec looked away from his twin and outwards to the forest, wanting to feel nothing but the comfort of his twin's presence, but the agitation remained, and he nodded. "Yeah."

Ben grabbed his hand as he stood and pulled him up a second later. "I'll pray to the Blue Lady. She'll make it right." Alex lifted an eyebrow in disbelief at this Blue Lady; it was nonsense Ben had talked about many times. Alec didn't see why Ben carried such reverence for her since he believed Lydecker's words: your unit, and your fellow soldiers were all you could depend on. As 387 had once stated with certainty, they were family, so it made sense. He just happened to add Ben to that circle.

"Sure, good night, Ben," he squeezed Ben's hand before dropping it and working his way back towards his unit's sleeping area.

"Alec." And yeah, he liked the name, Alec thought silently, as he turned to look at Ben. "We're going to leave here and find the Good Place, I promise, and maybe that odd feeling will go away." Ben's gaze held that intensity that made him somewhat uneasy, but he nodded and smiled.

"Of course. Someday." With that, they separated.

Two months later, Ben and his unit escaped. Ben tried to talk him into coming, but Alec couldn't leave the rest of his family. They were just as important to him as Ben, and you didn't abandon your family. Six months passed, and after repeated rounds through Psy-ops, 494 stopped caring about anything beyond Manticore and their mission prerogatives. All thoughts of Ben and the odd feelings of discontent, along with the images of that man with floppy brown hair, were swept clean from his mind.