(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.)

Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on. No pairings. (I don't think they'll be any pairings, but I have no idea if that'll remain that way.)

Chapter 3: Take Me Away From All This

. . . .

Sam remembered some time ago when it was just him and Dean in the motel room, and they had waited for their father to come home; it was the same every night. He'd go out hunting and leave the two of them to fend for themselves. He had never liked to be there. It was cramped, and he was forbidden to go outside. He discovered much later on that that had been partially why he didn't want to be a hunter. He was being forced into the "family business," as Dean dubbed it once. It stuck with the younger of the two, even now, but Sam wasn't sure what Dean and him were fighting for now.

To save people? Yeah, he understood that, but he wasn't sure whether or not they were helping. Usually he knew for certain that he was doing what was right, but he always wished that they had a life that didn't revolve around hunting, fighting, and killing. He wondered if he could get back out again, but he didn't want to leave his brother. It would be like a betrayal to Dean, even if Dean allowed him to have that "apple pie life."

Sam used to want it so much that it hurt. He could have been a lawyer, and maybe he could have married Jess or maybe stay with one of the others like Sarah or Amelia (Richardson, the vet). Dean always called him a big sap, and Sam guessed he was right. He would have loved to be normal like the rest of the people at school, but he had to get it through his head that it wasn't going to happen. He had to realize that his brother was family, so he couldn't abandon him, and he wouldn't, no matter what mood Dean was in.

He sure would like to walk away at times, sometimes they did, but the brothers would be back hunting together, and through everything, his older brother was there for him. Every single time he was in trouble, Dean was there to brush him off. Every time their father wasn't near, Dean tried to make the best of it for Sam. He was the one that took that hit for Sam, and Sam just wanted to be able to return the favor as much as he could, just like last night before they stumbled upon the creature's woods.

He had noticed the difference in his brother as soon as he went into Dean's room that first morning. He was sweating and super pale, stumbling and swaying. He had expected that Dean was going to collapse, but he didn't, so he left Dean and waited for him to come out. It took him a long time, and when he did reach the kitchen, he noticed little things about his brother that were off. Sure he had a similar personality, but he seemed to be weighed down by something big, and when he burst through that door at the home for the elderly, he saw pure rage, and that topped everything else. His brother hadn't been the cheeriest person ever, but he had never seen Dean that over the top (even as a demon or with the Mark on his arm), and he didn't hope for it even on their worst enemies because if he didn't stop Dean from acting out, he may not ever get him back. It was almost like Sam could sense an unstableness in his older brother. He couldn't quite explain what it was, but he wasn't exactly the Dean he had been earlier in the week.

To sum it up, Sam was worried about Dean… more than usual, even if Sam was the one deadly ill. He knew he was sick, but he didn't know much more than that. He could hear voices, but he could never make any sense of them until one voice broke through his disordered brain. "Alright, Sam, I'll try it your way… We'll have your chick flick moment, okay?" It sounded lost, depressed. His voice muffled substantially, and Sam couldn't understand any more of it now until he heard the voice again, but this time it was wavering. "I guess it comes all down to this, Sammy. You die, and I'm left here again. You know this should be fine after everything… But it's not. You're just going to die now, aren't you? They said that you'd be lucky to live to tomorrow, maybe there's something that we could do… Probably not…" Something smashed open; it sounded like glass shattering.

Dean, what do we do now?

. . . .

Sam still heard screaming and crashing.

"What the hell?!" Dean's voice pierced all of the noise, and Sam would have flinched at how loud it was by his ears if he could move. Something must have exploded because Sam felt extremely and uncomfortably hot. Heat covered his skin, bubbling beneath it, and Sam wished he could scream, but he was forced into an immovable position. "SAM," Dean's voice echoed from far away, and then Sam heard his brother scream out something, but it was muffled again. He didn't want to lose his hearing yet. He had to make sure everyone was alright.

"He can only fight this himself, Dean." A voice cut in, but it was far too gone for him to determine who it was.

"You keep fighting, Sammy." There was Dean again, and Sam reached to grasp the voice, so he could understand it. "Don't give up, alright? Don't…" The voice faded, and Sam could feel walls crumbling around him. He wasn't sure if that was actually happening or he wasn't fighting as strong as he needed to.

He gave a silent promise as the voices droned around his head. It was simple, but not at the same time. He was going to try to keep fighting, but it was so hard. The air felt like it was sizzling, and Sam couldn't breathe.

I don't think I can.

. . . .

He was so hungry, so thirsty, so… tired. He couldn't push his body any more, but he didn't want to give in. He was about to let go; he was so close, but then Dean's voice broke through the silence. "Fix him!"

All the force between those two words startled Sam, and he felt his eyes wanting to blink and shed light to the darkness, but instead the urge blinked away. He would have frowned if he could.

How do you fix something like this? What do you do?

"It's just a really bad sickness, Dean. He can handle it."'

"Do you see him, he looks terrible, and look at that mark? Huh? You think he wasn't bit?"

"Yes, I do, because he didn't change."

"What the hell is that then?"

Sam wanted to know the answer too, but it never came to his ears as a screech echoed throughout his eardrums. Pain coursed through his body, and he gritted his teeth. He could swear he could smell much better now, but he could be imagining it. He seemed dirt, antiseptic, and blood.

It was so much, especially when another round of pain shot through him; it was like a train smashed into him, shattering him to pieces. However, the agony refused to pause. It almost reminded him of the torture in the Cage- in only a few ways but still. He just wanted it to end.

. . . .

Then, coldness reached his limbs, pushing the suffocating heat at bay. "Sam, come on man, wake up." It was Dean again, so far away, drifting even more. Sam inhaled deeply when he realized the heat wasn't choking him anymore. He couldn't smell as well though, but he thought he could feel the sheets beneath his body. If he was lucky, in this state, he would die. He'd rather die like this than in the pain that seemed to be numbing to a dull ache.

"Now you can leave." Was that for him? Sam wasn't sure, but all he knew was that statement intended no arguing. Did his brother want him to leave? Sam knew he did terrible things to Dean, but he never thought Dean would take it to heart. Dean himself said it didn't matter to him, but was this Dean from Monday or from yesterday?

He just didn't know, so he thought it best to give in because like before, Dean was the part of him that would have kept him fighting for life. He guessed Bobby could hold the reigns for now. He decided to try to let go. Perhaps this time for good? He wasn't sure if this was the right choice, but he could try. Maybe he could see Jess or Mom up there, if Heaven was truly Heaven, and Sam didn't head downstairs instead.

"It's up to him now, Dean. It's not in my hands, but if you wish, I could try again."

Sam and Dean answered the same way, "no," or at least Sam did. He was far too gone anyway. The coolness crept into the rest of his body, and he settled in it. The pain ebbed away next. He didn't want to die, but like Dean said:

"Some things are worse than a gunshot." This was his gunshot.

(Next Time: Death Won't Win, I Promise You, Sam

Can you guess what happens next? By the way, I have the next chapter written, so I can put it up for whoever wants it. Personally, I think the fic starts to get a little better soon, but who knows.)