'Alright give it up Sammy, how the hell did you know that Siren was going to scream right then, how the hell did you know that, and don't give me some cock and bull story man I want the truth.'

It didn't take long for Dean to cotton on to Sam's premonitions, contrary to what people seemed to assume, his big brother was far from stupid.

Sam's reluctant confession had Dean shocked, 'you're having what now?'

'Premonitions, prophetic dreams, visions…'

'I know what premonitions are Sammy. When…I mean how…when did this happen?'

'A while ago now.'

'A while ago, freakin hell Sam, how long were you going to keep this little fact to yourself man?'

'You didn't need to know.'

'Oh I didn't need to know, I'm your brother Sam. Or does that count for nothing to you.'

'Of course it does.'

'You should have told me. I can't believe this…'

'I can't believe this…'

Sam snaps back to reality. Dean had been pissed he'd kept the premonitions secret, but that was the least of his worries. Things had gotton scary, they'd now gotton so scary Sam wasn't sure they'd recover from this. Because their past had finally caught up with them…

The creature, the one that had been haunting him all his life, the being that had kept him from sleeping, kept him from a normal life. It had found him. And it had once again taken someone he loved. And it wanted Sam for trade.

The clouds are unrelenting as he stares from the window, his eyes narrow and the stormy sky reflects inside his irises as he wills it to oppress him. To envelope him in its infinity and to swallow him up forever.

He doesn't know if he's strong enough. For this final fight. To face this thing. This monster. But it has his father. And so it has him.

Like it's always had him.

He can almost feel the coming rain in the air even though a drop has yet to touch the ground outside of the hotel. On the world's streets, such dangerous, dangerous streets. Sam's eyes gaze up into the masses of black clouds. He tries to see like he and Dean had as children, cloud pictures.

Today all he sees is grey. All heknows is grey.

He has such a vague idea about what is about to happen that it makes the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end even now. His premonitions, up until this point, leading to this point had been vivid, accurate, complete. This last one he'd woken to this morning was hazy, incomplete and perhaps the most important of all.

Sam knows it's the last one he'll ever have. Don't ask how he just knows. This final climax, this final battle is going to change everything, for better or for worse he doesn't know. But the feeling in his gut is not optimism, it's for want of a better description – fear.

Sam had learned very early on not to be afraid for himself, Dean and his father were overprotective enough for him, but he feared for his father and he feared for the man stalking furiously before him.

'What did he say again?'

Sam sighs, runs a hand through his mop of dark hair, 'I already told you Dean.'

'Tell me again', comes the curt reply.

'He said to come to Millers Warehouse on 85th Street, he said if I didn't he'd kill Dad.'

Sam remembers the garbled voice even now, the way it sent tingles from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

'How do we even know he has Dad?' Dean grasps desperately at straws, 'Maybe this is all some stupid trick to get you there.'

'It's not a trick man, I heard Dad's voice. Hell I saw that much in my vision.'

'Sam don't listen to him…leave me…'

His father's voice echoing through the receiver had frozen Sam to the spot. He'd seen it of course in his vision, but he'd been praying and hoping with everything he had that he'd been wrong.

Dean exhales sharply and turns to his younger brother, 'tell me exactly what you saw in the dream again.'

Sam pauses, his back to his brother, staring from the window again. The clouds are closer now.

'Dad in a room – tied to a bed he's shouting my name. A shadow passing over him…'

Sam falters again, suddenly drained.

Dean notices. 'What? What else Sammy?'

Sam shakes his head weakly, deciding on the truth. 'Whatever it is Dean, it's what killed Mom, what killed Jess. I know it is…I can feel it…'

Dean's eyes darken to a color Sam's never seen before and he jerks forward gripping Sam by the shoulders roughly. His eyes preparing himself to say something he knows Sam's going to hate.

'I want you to stay here Sammy…you can't go there, you understand me…'

Sam's mouth drops open incredulously.

'I don't care what you saw man, this thing, whatever it is, it has some kind of hold over you, it has some kind of obsession with you, and we are NOT sending you right to the bastard alright. You stay here.'

'No way in hell.' Sam shouts back. 'This is my fight Dean, we both know that, I don't know why but I have to do this. You can't leave me behind like I'm six years old anymore. Don't you get it, this thing wants me. I won't risk Dad's life or yours by running away.'

'I'm not giving you a choice here Sammy.' Dean growls, desperate to stop his brother from doing this. 'You're staying here.'

'No…' Sam counters, 'I'm not.'

Dean shakes Sam then, he physically shakes him, hard. 'Do you think I'm just going to hand you to him Sammy? Just hand you over like some freaking prize for this thing to play with. You're my brother! You're my little brother, don't you get that you freaking idiot?'

Dean's shaking now, Sam can feel it in the tense muscles of his arms. His voice catches and Sam finds it impossible to look away.

Oh how he worships Dean.

He always has done.

He knew Dean wouldn't let him go, that he'd never let him go without a fight.

Doesn't mean he's staying though, Sam won't be moved on this. This is his fight. It always has been.

'I won't lose you Sammy. I can't.' Dean whispers now. Eyes suspiciously bright. Hands still clawing the shoulders of his brothers' shirt.

Sam places his hands over Dean's tight grip and gently, reverently unclasps his fingers. His own voice is wobbling as he struggles to keep a hold of himself, 'Dean…' he whispers softly, 'you don't have a choice.'

Like hell he doesn't have a choice. Dean won't let this happen. He can't let this happen.

As usual Sammy is offering himself as sacrificial lamb and Dean can't watch this anymore. Enough is enough.

Sam's punished himself enough for Jess, for his mom even, enough is enough now. Enough is enough.

What the hell does this thing want with Sam.

Why him?

Why now?

What could possibly drive something to so much pain - so much hate that it murders two wonderful women and targets an innocent kid.

Well it won't get this kid.

Over Dean's dead body.

He means it too.

He'd die in a second before he'd let this monster touch one hair on his brothers' head.

He turns away from Sam now, as he earnestly stares at him. Dean can't bear it, he can't handle the determination, the resolute feeling in those eyes. Sam's going to go, and there's nothing Dean can do to stop him.

Except go with him, stand in front of him, protect him with his life.

Dad would have wanted that.

It frightens Dean now as he thinks about it. Normally Dean would have scoffed at these feelings of fear, repressed them, but he hasn't time for that now, now the feelings embalm him…

Their Dad must have known, he must have known the thing was after Sammy. In the way he had raised both boys, in the way he and Dean had guarded Sam with their lives. Their father had been aware, Dean realises now, just how important Sam was, just how much this thing wanted him.

Dean is overcome with shudders. His heart is ripped apart with conflicting feelings, he is overjoyed at the thought that his father is alive, but sickened that his return means he must bring Sam right into the devils lair. He knows that is the last thing his father would want, that any of them want.

Sam is theirs.

He isn't up for the taking.

Dean is itching to send this monster right back to hell where it belongs.

But he doesn't want to risk Sammy. He can't risk his little brother. Sam needs to stay.

In order to survive Sam must stay.

Sam isn't going to stay.

Dean knows it.

And it terrifies him, he can admit that.

Losing Sam would destroy him. He won't let it happen. He won't let Sam fall.

He'll be there, he'll be right there beside him, to catch him.

Before he hits the ground.

'I do have a choice Sammy, you see I'm 26 years old and do you know what that means?' Dean growls intensely. 'It means I am allowed to make decisions for myself, and you know what today's is? I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm not losing you to this.'

Sam falters as he keeps his back to his brother. His fingers touch the counter in the hotel room and his palm encircles the object on the surface, he knows what he has to do, his voice wobbles considerably, 'Dean please, let me do this.'

'No.' One word, so final, so resolute.

Sam steps towards his brother till he is looking him in the eye. He needs to go now. Time is running out, for all of them.

'I knew you'd say that you know.'

Dean says nothing.

Sam takes a long look at his brother, he smiles tearfully, nods, he moves his arms to encircle his brother. Dean's a little surprised but he holds him back and Sam embraces him, he places his head in his brothers' shoulder like they'd done as children, when Sam had had a nightmare or been upset about something.

'It's alright Sammy, I'm here, no one's going to hurt you, I'm here.' Dean would whisper.

And he'd be so sure…he'd sound so god damned sure that sometimes – sometimes – Sam believed him.

'Forgive me Dean?' Sam whispers softly into his shirt, so softly Dean can only just make it out.

'Forgive you for what?'

Dean's voice is hoarse and Sam chokes out a sob, 'Just say you forgive me?'

'Sammy…'

'Say it Dean…'

The urgency is so strong in Sam's voice that Dean can't refuse. He knows he'd forgive him anything anyway, but what is it Sam's talking about?

'I forgive you Sammy.' He whispers, arms still holding his little brother close, 'I forgive you.'

Sam squeezes his eyes shut tightly and then pulls it from his sleeve. He brings his arm back so rapidly and with such force that Dean doesn't even blink before the blow strikes him in the head and brings him crashing to the ground.

Sam drops the baton with a loud sob as Dean lies unconscious on the ground. It had to be done. He would never have let him go. He would have risked his own life. Sam couldn't have handled that.

He could never have handled that.

He slowly, reverently sinks to his knees, ignoring the tears that are beginning to make their way down his cheeks. He places a hand to his brothers' shoulder. He leans forward and kisses his forehead. He remembers the big brother that taught him how to shave, he remembers the stories Dean would tell him in the dark to quell his fears, he remembers night after night of just the two of them when their father was out drinking, or hunting or both. He remembers it all.

And that is exactly why he had to do this.

He rocks back on his heels, glances at Dean once more, 'I'm sorry.' He whispers. 'I can't let you fight this for me. I have to do this alone now.'

He climbs to his feet and grabs the automatic from the bedside table, it's as he reaches the door he pauses, he looks back once more, 'I love you Dean.'

The door closes behind him.

Sam brings Dean's car to a stop as he pulls up at the address that the caller, the plague of his waking nightmares had told him. The warehouse is dark and cold and silent, horrifyingly silent as Sam's feet crunch against the tarmac. He clings to the worn rucksack tightly suddenly wishing Dean was beside him.

He always felt safe with him at his side.

But he's not.

Sam is alone.

And for the first time he is terrified by the realisation that this could be the end, that in all probability this IS the end. For him.

Sam shakes the hair from his eyes as he tries to adjust to the never-ending darkness, he won't go down without a fight. He'll set his father free and then he'll get answers. Answers he'd longed for his whole life. About his mother, about Jess, why him, why did this thing, this being want him? Sam doesn't know if he'll win this fight, he fears he won't, but he knows one thing. He'll get some answers.

He isn't surprised that his feet find the room from his vision, he isn't even surprised to see the bound and gagged form of John Winchester on the slab before him. He is surprised however at the overwhelming rush of love that consumes him the moment John's haunted eyes rest upon his youngest sons'.

'Dad.'

So much feeling, so much emotion in that one word.

His dad.

His dad lies eyeing Sam, obvious tears in his eyes. He wriggles desperately against the ropes.

Sam has missed him.

Sam has missed him so much it hurts.

There were times when all he'd wanted was his father's arms holding him close, telling him it'd be alright. After Jess…his father knew how that felt, he knew, and he wasn't there. He wasn't there for him.

Dean was.

Sam rushes forward and cuts at the ropes with the knife he retrieves from the rucksack.

He tears the gag from his father's mouth.

'Sam…Sammy…' John coughs in disbelief. 'I told you not to come…what…we have to get out of here.'

He pauses a moment and pulls Sam into the tightest hug he's ever felt in his whole life. Sam melts into the hug. He needs it right now, needs it like oxygen.

'Dad…oh dad.'

For a moment they hold one another. Then John pulls back.

'Where's Dean?'

Sam's mouth drops open to reply when a dark shadow crosses over his father's form. Sam recognises this from his vision. That is where the vision stopped. It was all a mystery from here.

A mystery that feels all wrong.

'Back at the hotel.' Sam throws back, helping his father to his feet, 'Dad, we don't have time for this. We have to go now.'

John hobbles to his feet.

'You're right.'

Sam grips his father's waist and supports the older man thrusting the automatic into his palm for protection as they stumble blindly through the darkness.

They are nearing the entrance when for some reason Sam feels compelled to stop. Something makes him stop and he turns to his father, needing to know, needing to find out.

'Dad the thing, that thing that took you, did you see it? What…' Sam swallows not sure if he's ready for the answer, 'what did it look like?'

John removes Sam's arm from around his waist and turns standing before his son. His eyes take on a haunted look.

Sam is completely unprepared when the man he thought was his father brings back the butt of the automatic and smashes it into his skull.

John stands over the prone body before him and smiles in the darkness…

'It looked kind of like me.'