Eleven

Dean pushed himself in front of Sam, protection for his younger brother surging inside as he focused his gun on the god, who continued to talk nonchalantly. Sam hissed a word of warning to Dean's back, but now that Dean was facing the monster that had taken his brother, he was oblivious to all. His arms twitched with anger, and he pressed a slippery finger tight against the trigger of his gun.

The deity seemed to ignore Dean's rage and circled the brothers like a vulture waiting for its last meal. "Now, Dean, I have to ask you simply because Sam's been with me all this time, but how is your mother doing? Is she well? Is she everything you hoped for?"

"Go to hell, bitch."

The god's eyes flashed with a spark of fire that sent a chill down Sam. "Answer me, Dean. Tell me just how your mother is," the god demanded in a rumble causing reverberations to run through the floor and up the boys' flesh.

Uncontrollably, Dean lurched forward as if he had been grabbed around the chest by an unseen hand and fell to his knees with a dull thud in his kneecaps. "She's fine," he whispered to the floor, his lips twisting awkwardly in a strained fashion.

"Make eye contact with me," the deity continued.

It was obvious that Dean was fighting the force that had gained control of his body when his muscles shuffled gawkily until he was looking up at the god above him. The veins in his neck and face bulged with strain, and a low gleam of perspiration spread across his skin.

"And are you happy with her being alive?"

"Yes." Dean's voice sounded choked, and the god's eyes glinted malevolently as he watched Dean struggle to control his own strength.

"Then what in the world are you doing here?" the god asked, moving down to Dean. He crouched in front of Dean and clutched the human face in his immortal hands, thumbs digging into Dean's cheeks. "I watched you cry yourself to sleep for months after she died. I watched your father lose his mind when she died. Your life was destroyed because of her death, so I gave her back to restore your family. And yet, when your mother, your savior, returns, you still come into my domain. Do you regret her presence that much? Are you really that incompetent of a human?"

"Let him go!" Sam cried and aimed the rock salt filled gun directly at the god, who grinned at him and released Dean indifferently.

"You dare to shoot me with what? Salt? Simple molecules of earthly substances? You tried with silver to bring me damage before, and I was not harmed. Shoot me now, when I am more powerful than I was on Earth, and you will be sorely disappointed in your results."

Sam knew it was a challenge, but he fired anyway. It was better to have shot and be wounded than not to shoot at all and to watch Dean being hurt. As the particles of salt sped towards the god, he raised one pale hand and grabbed the pieces like he was catching a ball. Tightly, he clutched his fingers and opening it in a flurry, he sent the particles hurling back at Sam. The force caught Sam in the stomach, slamming him back against one of the walls with an uncomfortable grunt, where sharp bonds leapt from the wall and latched onto his arms and legs to hold him firmly in place.

While Dean fought to stand, the god, without looking towards him, gave a swift flick of his hand and sent Dean spinning in the other direction where similar restraints held him fast against the wall.

Leaning forward into Sam's face, the deity examined him with a medical precision. "You stupid human. You think you can outsmart someone like me? A god?"

Sam twisted against his tight holds, but they cut into his flesh the more he writhed and small patches of blood quickly blossomed under his clothes. "Your strength is nothing in this world. The strength of flesh and blood is miniscule to what I can accomplish." The god turned away from Sam and moved swiftly to the middle of the room, his large robes billowing behind him on an unfelt breeze. "Now, here's what I fail to understand. You willingly allow me to give you your mother back, fully comprehending the trade that would be crafted. You humans cease to be satisfied; your lust knows no boundaries. I made you a deal, and you do not hold to your end of the bargain."

"Neither do you," Dean spat from across the room.

"You dare to insult me?" the god raged. As the volume of his voice increased with his long strides toward Dean, tongues of fire quickly sprang up on the walls around the brothers. He hurried to Dean and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, snapping the bonds and lifting him off the ground so that they were eye to eye. "You, the liar and thief? You lie to yourself that you love your mother, when in truth your brother is the only one worth protecting for you. And then you search for your mortal sibling and invade my world like none before you?" Dean kicked his legs, struggling to find the trigger on his gun and hold himself upright so the god would not choke him in his grasp. "I could kill you right now, do you realize that?" When Dean didn't respond, the god threw his body across the room like a pitiful rag doll tossed by an angry child.

There was a sharp snap as Dean landed awkwardly on his arm, breaking it in the middle. His bellow was a mix of pure pain and obscenities, and he irrationally leveled his gun at the deity and shot until he was empty. Instead of hitting the god, the bullets reversed their route and blasted through Dean's skin. While he was not yet fatally wounded, blood poured from his wounds, and his body danced on the ground from the impact.

"Dean!" Sam cried, fighting to push himself from the wall. With the sound of Sam's voice, the god whirled in that direction, and in a flash, he was standing beside the younger man. He grabbed Sam's hair in one vengeful fist, sending lines of pain down Sam's bleeding spine. "Look at your brother now! Look at him bleed and writhe! You thought he was all powerful. Is this your hero, now?" When Sam refused to look, he twisted Sam's head violently in the direction of Dean, who was shaking on the ground. "Look, I tell you! You will obey me now, if not before!"

As Sam looked upon his brother, bleeding and broken, he wished he never would have brought Dean to save him. They both would have been better if things had remained the way they were, where Dean lived with their parents and Sam wandered alone in the underworld. While they were not satisfied in such a separation, at least they were alive, which was more than their current states were going to lead them.

Struggling to stand and breathe, Dean raised a palm to his eyes and left a blood streak across his forehead. Sam then noticed Dean's hand moving to the boot where he had stored his knife after they had left the lake environment. Suddenly, a flurry of hope rose in Sam, and he focused back on the god. The fight was not over yet.

"You lied," Sam said to the deity through gritted teeth. "You lied to us when you made the bargain in the first place."

"Did I?" The god feigned ignorance. The flames around Sam were hot and licked at his hair, and he knew that he did not have much time if he was left pinned against the wall. When the god began to speak again, he lurched forward, mouth frozen in a silent scream, as Dean's head appeared from behind the god where a knife was plunged into the immortal back.

Thick black blood spouted from the wound, soaking Dean's hands and hair.

"Uphold this deal," Dean hissed, wincing with every movement of his broken arm. Sam, his bonds weakened, tumbled forward, and Dean's knife clattered to the ground, falling out of the deity's back. There was a moment of silence in which the flames sizzled against the wall, and the god stumbled toward the platform in the middle of the room.

While Dean helped Sam to his feet, the god stood under the bright illumination falling down from above. Blood, both his own and the god's trickled over Dean's eye as he looked up at Sam and whispered, "I hope you were right."

Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder in a vain attempt of reassurance. "Just trust me."

As soon as the brothers had reached the mirror once again, not knowing where it would take them besides away from this hell, the god, fully healed, swiveled around in a powerful storm of rage and fire.

"You!" he bellowed at Dean, who had his good arm interlocked with Sam so that they could support each other. The deity extended one opened hand at Dean. "You are not worth my trouble!" With a powerful gesture, he snapped his fingers shut in a tight fist.

There was a choking sound, a strangled cry of pain as Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. While his face twisted in pain and fright, his fingers spasmodically tried to grab the edges of Sam's coat to hold himself upright.

He collapsed.

Sam yelled something unintelligent and turned himself on the god. "Leave him alone! It's me you want anyway! Let him go!"

"It's too late," the god said. "Internal hemorrhaging has begun, and his blood will soon leak from his body until he is completely drained. And what would I want with you? You consider yourself important because I brought you across as a body and not as a soul? Because I made allowances in my world for you to exist? You are only human just like your pitiful brother. Only human."

Sam, no longer caring what happened to him, lunged at the god with Dean's knife outstretched and heart willing to kill. If this was how it had to end, he was going to end it with a fight, for he would not let his brother's death be forgotten. Aiming for the god's head, he proceeded to plunge the knife deep into the skull. Before the knife could penetrate the god's skin, the deity gave a quick snap of his hand, and the sharpened blade aimed itself on Sam.

Unable to stop himself, Sam was still clutching the handle as the silver metal impaled itself into the warm flesh of his abdomen. It sliced through his warm flesh and muscles until it was buried deep within his organs, and Sam's body convulsed in a curl around the gash. He gasped sharply from the sudden intrusion and pain, and he staggered, gathering blood between his trembling fingers.

He fell.

And the god waited.

Sam's vision wavered, and he grimaced as the point of the knife jutted against his innards, until he felt cool fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Sammy."

Dean, groggy and weak, pulled Sam onto his lap and cradled his younger brother in his arms like he had when they fled from the blaze that killed their mother. Around them, the flames were hot and suffocating as they had been years ago, but this time they could not outrun the demon's fire. Warm blood gushed from the wound in Sam's stomach onto Dean's heavy hand that pressed itself on his abdomen to stop the knife from tearing further into him. His innards felt cold and slimy, twisting and shifting abnormally within him.

It would not be much longer.

When Dean spoke, a small trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth that he tried to catch with his one good arm. What he could not wipe away fell in small droplets on Sam's forehead below his dark hairline. Dean's skin was already cold and fading, but he would support himself long enough to see Sam go. "Sammy," he whispered again. His voice was rattled, and he struggled to cough, but his body was collapsing. There was blood pooling in his ears, smearing at the corners of his eyes and dribbling from his nose. It seeped from underneath his fingernails, and Dean knew that he was dying a death only a true god could give. Yet he needed only a few minutes so that his younger brother would not die alone in this hell.

Sam, too, could barely speak as his blood leaked through Dean's trembling fingers, forming a crimson pool around them. The red liquid was thick and dark, sticky against their skin and heavy against their souls. "I'm sorry," he told Dean, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have—"

"We tried," Dean responded through the salty fluid in his own mouth. "It'll be okay, you'll see, it has to be okay."

Dean clutched his younger brother in his lap until Sam's eyes closed, and his head tipped clumsily on the limp neck. His long brown hair bobbed against his older brother's knee, and his pale fingers loosened their grip on Dean's hand, making crimson trails across Dean's skin.

Dean knew that he could leave now.

As the blood trickled from Dean's nose and eyes, he thought of all the moments they had together, and how at least they had been able to die together. Fate had given them that much after all they had been through. Secretly he was grateful that Sam had died first because at least Sam had been spared the pain of seeing his brother die before him. Dean's only regret was that he did not save Sam as he had promised him.

As a comforting warmth spread over Dean's bleeding limbs, he pulled Sam closer to him in a tight embrace. His brother's body was already dead, but he would not let him go. Dean closed his eyes, listening to the slowing thud of his own heart disappearing in his ears, and he knew that he could fight no longer. Sam would be waiting for him on the other side now.

The god of the underworld watched the older brother slump forward and fall across his younger sibling's chest. The eldest man's arms were tight around the brunette youth's body, and they held him close in the protection he was unable to give the younger Winchester in real life. The god patiently waited until the puddle of blood around the bodies no longer grew and their skin started to fade. The light of life within the boys was fully extinguished. As their souls finally left their bodies, free of their mortal flesh, the god bent his head and smiled.

It was over at last.