"Sammy!" Dean screamed, acting on his heart's instinct, launching himself at the middle figure now suspended in mid-air. The shapeshifter slid into Dean's way, halting him with a punch to the stomach that sent Dean sprawling, gasping for air. Before Dean could recover, the shapeshifter had twined his hands around Dean's throat, fingernails cutting slits in Dean's skin.
But the sight of Sam's body twisting limply in the draft from the window sent adrenaline surging through Dean's body, and he kicked out with his legs, sending the shapeshifter staggering off a few feet. Dean kicked up to a standing position, sending a roundhouse kick into the shapeshifter's jaw, gaining a few more feet on him.
The shapeshifter grabbed Dean's arm and twisted it, bringing Dean's back into contact with the shapeshifter's chest. Dean was exactly in the line of sight to see Sam's face turning blue, eyes slightly bulging, and with a yell Dean used his body to shove the shapeshifter back into the wall.
Suddenly Dean was released, and turning around he quickly saw why. He had pushed the shapeshifter directly onto a hook coming out from the wall, a hook that had gone straight through the shapeshifter's heart, just narrowly missing piercing Dean's back as well.
Wasting no time, Dean sprinted over to where the bodies hung suspended, drawing his knife and slicing down the middle body. He caught Sam gently in his arms and lowered him to the floor, laying him out. Lifting Sam's pant leg slightly, Dean quickly spotted the red rubber band, but also quickly spotted that Sam wasn't breathing.
Quickly beginning mouth to mouth, Dean flinched at the bruises quickly forming around Sam's neck, and the bluish tint to his lips and face. "If you leave me, Sammy, so help me, I will kill you myself," Dean said, but couldn't find a laugh inside of himself.
There was no response from Sam, and Dean got desperate, slapping Sam's face, pushing on his chest in a continuation of CPR. "Sammy c'mon, don't you leave me," Dean begged. "You gotta breathe for me, ok Sammy? C'mon, you gotta breathe for me."
Sam suddenly coughed, rolling over onto his side as he hacked painfully, the bluish tint slowly vanishing from his face. "It's Sam," Sam gasped out, coughing again.
Dean laughed shakily and gratefully, gently cupping the back of Sam's neck and raising him, clutching him to his chest. "There you go Sammy," Dean said, shooting a victorious look at the shapeshifter's dead body. "Too damn stubborn to die. It's those genes I keep telling you about."
"How…how did you know which one was me?" Sam's breathing was already becoming slower, returning to a normal rate, though he made no attempt to remove himself from Dean's comforting arms.
"This coming from the boy who has visions?" Dean said with a laugh. He looked down at Sam. "I just…knew. I don't know. He dropped those stools and I…I just knew which one was you. Now don't go turning that into some sappy big brother crap, alright?" Dean tried for a sarcastic tone, but couldn't keep the affection out of his voice.
"Wouldn't dream of it." Sam winced as he moved his neck slightly. "Where is the shapeshifter by the way?" His eyes suddenly fell on the shapeshifter's body and he shuddered.
"Let's not look that way, Sammy," Dean said, realizing a second too late that the shapeshifter still looked just like him. He gently turned Sam's head to the opposite wall. "Do you think you can get downstairs if I help you?"
Sam nodded weakly, and Dean helped him to his feet. Sam swayed slightly, but Dean was right there, arm around his shoulders. Together they made slow, but steady progress down the stairs and into the kitchen, joining Alex and Becky, who were hovering over a visibly shaken Grace.
"Oh my god Sam, are you ok?" Becky asked, as Dean helped Sam settle into a chair and went to grab some ice.
"Yeah, we had an…interesting encounter with the head shapeshifter upstairs," Sam said, his voice sounding raspy and hoarse. "Is Grace ok?"
"We found her tied up in the basement," Alex answered, his hand on Grace's shoulder.
"Yeah, a shapeshifter who looked like Grace tried to stop me from going upstairs," Dean offered, rummaging through the freezer. "I-"
Dean's words were suddenly cut off by a loud thump as his body slammed into the floor, a steak knife protruding from his back. Standing over him was someone who looked exactly like him, except for the leer contorting his features. "One down, one to go," the shapeshifter growled. "My master will not have died in vain."
"Dean!" Sam yelled, lifting himself from the chair. He swayed slightly, but didn't hesitate, lurching over to place himself protectively over Dean's prostrate body, unable to tell if Dean was even still breathing.
"How…touching," the shapeshifter said with a laugh, advancing on Sam. The shapeshifter went right for Sam's throat, squeezing the already-depleting air out of Sam's lungs, shooting pain through Sam's body.
Sam heard things being thrown, could see Becky, Grace, and Alex tossing pots and pans at the shapeshifter, but more importantly, he saw the tip of Dean's gun peeking out from under his jacket. Reaching down with his last ounce of strength, Sam grabbed the gun and shoved it into the shapeshifter's chest, pulling the trigger over and over.
As the shapeshifter slid dead to the ground, his hold on Sam's throat was released. Gasping for air, Sam slid down the wall, coming to a rest right next to Dean's body. Instantly, Sam's focus was all on his brother. "Dean!" Sam stared helplessly at the knife protruding from Dean's still body. "I'm sorry, I have to do this."
Placing one hand on Dean's back and one hand on the knife handle, Sam pulled, yanking the knife from Dean's back. Dean didn't react at all. Sam stared at his brother's pale face, tears coming to his eyes.
"Damnit Sammy, that hurt," Dean mumbled, and Sam laughed, slapping Dean lightly on the top of his head.
"Well then maybe you shouldn't scare me like that," Sam answered, grabbing some towels from the shelf and applying pressure to the wound. He gratefully accepted the first aid kit from Grace. "Now take your shirt off."
"I'd like that request so much better if it was coming from Becky," Dean grumbled as he pulled his shirt over his head. Becky shot him a look, but couldn't help laughing.
"Well, the knife didn't go too deep," Sam said, adding a final layer of bandages. "You should be just fine."
"Good to hear." Dean stuck his hand out. "Now give me my gun back." Shaking his head, Sam passed the gun over to Dean, then helped him to his feet. Leaning on the countertop, Dean reached into the freezer and extracted an ice pack, which he tossed at Sam.
Wrapping the ice around his neck, Sam let his eyes close, exhaustion creeping over him. When he woke up, he was back in his bed, Dean hovering over him. "Feeling better?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah, thanks," Sam answered, relived to hear his voice sounding normal again. "How'd I get up here?"
"I carried your heavy ass up here," Dean answered, turning away from Sam and throwing the last of his clothes into a battered suitcase. "You passed out in the kitchen."
"Thanks," Sam said again. He sat up, drawing his knees into his chest. "Um…Dean…" Sam trailed off, not at all sure how to start this conversation.
"What's up?" Dean zipped up the suitcase and plopped down on the bed across from Sam.
"You owe me that conversation." Dean stared at Sam for a minute, then his gaze dropped to his hands.
"What conversation?" Dean tried to keep his voice casual.
"The one about why the hell you had a gun to your head!" Sam spit out, feeling his anger rise. "The one about how if I had woken up half a second later it would have been to find my big brother's brains sprayed all over the wall!"
Sam expected anger in response from Dean, or denial, but he never expected the sad, quiet voice that came out of his brother's mouth. "You already know the answer to that question, Sammy."
"No I don't!" Sam yelled, his anger tempered slightly by the tone of Dean's voice. Dean suddenly stood up, advancing on Sam.
"Because I thought you were dead, ok, Sammy! Because I thought my baby brother had died and I couldn't imagine living without you! There. Now you know." Sighing, Dean sat down next to Sam on the bed, their shoulders touching.
For a moment, Sam was speechless. Then he spoke, quietly, voice wavering. "Promise me that…if I…if I die, Dean, for real, that you won't kill yourself."
"I can't," Dean said simply, staring at his hands, expecting more rage from Sam. Instead there was quiet for a moment, then just as suddenly Sam leaned his head on Dean's shoulder.
"I couldn't promise either," Sam said softly. Dean fought back a sob, instead resting his chin on the top of Sam's head, putting his arm around Sam's shoulders.
"Then I guess we're just going to have to live forever, huh?" Dean whispered.
"Guess so," Sam answered, a smile crossing his face. A knock sounded on the door, and Becky, Grace, and Alex entered.
"We came to say goodbye," Becky said, pulling first Sam and then Dean into tight hugs. "Don't be strangers, ok?"
"We won't," Dean answered, looking at Sam. "I promise we'll stop by here more often." Sam smiled, and the brothers finished their goodbyes, throwing their suitcases into the trunk of the Impala and then climbing into the car.
"So, Sammy, I say we have a little fun," Dean said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. "Now we could do your idea of fun. We could go to the library and study, then maybe head over to the zoo and you could teach me about why polar bears have fur. Finish it up with a little more old-fashioned studying and an early bedtime."
"Or we could do your idea of fun," Sam replied with a laugh, pointing his finger at Dean. "Run around the beach seeing how many girls' bikini tops we could untie, get into a fight at a bar when we hit on some guy's girlfriend. End with a massive hangover and amnesia about the last twelve hours of our lives."
Dean smacked Sam on the head, a gesture Sam reciprocated. "Or…we could always head to a hotel," Dean suggested, his tone more serious. "Pick up some beers, order in a pizza, do a scary movie marathon."
"Like when we were kids." Sam smiled at Dean. "Course that was without the beer."
"Speak for yourself, Sammy, I wasn't drinking apple juice." Dean laughed at the expression on Sam's face. "So you in?"
"Always," Sam answered. Dean smiled in return, and they continued driving.
THE END
I just want to offer up a huge thanks to everyone who read this story, and everyone who left reviews. I have never gotten such an incredible response to a story ever, and you all have definitely made me want to keep writing.