Hey, guys! *sweats nervously* Sorry that I haven't posted in a while but doing coursework is a bitch! So, here's the next chapter and I hope you like it! I have a few different ideas about how I should continue with the story but I'd really like to hear some suggestions as well! THANK YOU for all of your reviews, it means the WORLD to me!

P.S. As English is not my first language the story's bound to have some grammar and spelling mistakes but, for the love of Loki, be merciful! THANKS AGAIN!

Sam was sitting on the top of the stars at the back of the bunker with his head bowed toward the ground. He thought that some fresh air would help -only if were that easy. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there but he didn't want to go back inside. Not yet. Going back meant more research on a topic which he didn't want to think about, not right now. It meant finding clues that lead to closed doors and questions which just didn't seem to have answers. At least not the answers he was looking for.

Sam was desperate.

He didn't want to admit it, not to Crowley, not to Cas and certainly not to himself, but he just didn't know what to do anymore. There wasn't much more left he could do, really. At this point it was only one thing that kept him from falling apart. One thought that kept him going against all odds.

If it were you, Dean would've never given up.

Hell, even when Lucifer took him for a ride, Dean would still not give up on him.

We're brothers. We're family. And no matter how bad it gets, that's not gonna change.

I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you.

Sam took a deep breath as he looked up at the dark night sky. Clouds were forming fast and were hiding the stars behind them, like a jealous lover would hide their one true love so that they could have them all to themselves. The northern wind made him shiver.

Sam used to pray once. When he was a kid, he did it very quietly so that his brother and father wouldn't hear him. When he grew up the habit stayed with him and every night before he went to sleep, he prayed for the soul of his mother. For his father to return from his latest hunt. For his brother to never leave his side. That changed when he found out that there was actually a God and he didn't give a damn about him. And the angels, who were supposed to be those merciful and forgiving celestial beings stigmatised him as an abomination.

Sam stopped praying after that. There just wasn't any point in doing it if nobody was listening at the end of the line.

But tonight was different. And driven by his own desperation, he shut his eyes closed, swallowing his pride.

"God… If you're still somewhere out there and you can hear me… Help me save my brother. Help me save Dean. He's all I have left. And I know, I know we won't be fighting forever, we'll need to put our weapons down one day. But not like this. Don't let him end like this. Don't let him lose himself. After everything he's done for you, you owe him that! You hear me? You owe him that! ", he shouted with sudden anger, his voice echoing in the distance, slowly fading away as an old memory.

It is funny really, that somebody can mean so much to you that you start confronting God himself.

He took another deep breath, recovering his composure.

"So just… ", he whispered, "please.", his voice cracked at the last word.

Sam blinked away the tears he hadn't realized were there. Silence. No thunder and lighting, no divine signs from Heaven. But what did he expect, really? Did he think that God will hear him now? After all this time?

The wind was howling like a rabid dog and its sharp teeth were trying to tear his flesh away.

"N'aaaw, Sammy, that's just…" ,Sam jumped at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice, "…pathetic."

Dean was standing in front of him with a smirk on his lips. It wasn't the playful, good-natured smirk he was used to, however. There was no warmth in it, just cruelty. Dean was wearing a black leather jacket and his hair was different, somewhat longer. But it wasn't the new appearance that shocked Sam, no. It was the pitch black eyes that stared back at him and Sam needed a second to remind himself that he was actually looking at his brother. That second terrified him more than anything else in his entire life.

"D—Dean?", he asked, his heart pounding against his chest, but what he really meant was, Is it still you in there?

"What, I'm gone for a couple of months and you forget about me?", he shook his head disapprovingly, "Now that's just rude even for us. Here, how's that, little brother?"

His eyes turned back to emerald green and for a moment Sam found himself staring not at a demon, or a Knight of Hell but at his big brother. His cheeky, smart-ass big brother who had a classic car fetish, a destructive relationship with junk food and who would die for him at the drop of a hat.

"Tell me something- what part of letting me go exactly didn't you understand?"

Sam looked at him with sad eyes.

"You know I can't do that."

He saw the First Blade then, as Dean took it out from under his shirt and touched it with evident affection, that which would be expected from a parent towards his child.

"Dean, wait a second- you don't have to do this", Sam tried to reason with his brother or what was left of him anyway, "We can find a way to fix this, all of it." And even if he did not believe in that, he needed Dean to.

Dean laughed and it sent shivers down Sam's spine. His laugh was like suicide.

"Well, you're shit outta luck there, Sammy,' cause if there's a demon in Hell who can't be cured, you're looking at him. Besides,", he hopped with one leg in front of the other in a child-like manner, getting closer to him, „don't you think that If I wanted to be cured I wouldn't have bailed?"

"That was Crowley!"

Dean tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows mockingly,

"It really wasn't ."

"So what now, Dean, huh? You wanna stay like this forever? ", Sam confronted him, "The one thing you hated the most? Torturing and killing innocent people, is that what you've become now?"'

Dean ticked his tongue. "No one is truly innocent, Sam."

"Jesus Christ, listen to yourself!", Sam pleaded, "Do all the lives we've saved, the people we've helped not matter anymore? Do you really just … don't care?"

"And why exactly should I care?", Dean narrowed his eyes at him, his smile vanishing from his lips, "Wanna tell me that, Sammy? Cause caring sure did us a lot of good, didn't it? People looking at us like we're crazy all the time instead of thanking us for saving their asses. The FBI putting us on the most wanted list next to rapists and murderers. Staying at crappy motels stinking like cat piss and having more scars that any of us could count. Tell me, Sam, cause I really wanna know- why should I care?"

Sam could understand Dean. Hell, he sometimes felt like that as well. But he never dwelled on that for too long cause, deep down, he'd always known the reason for doing all of this, living the life they had.

"It's never been about getting recognition and you know it. It's who we are, Dean. It's who we've always been. You can't turn your back on everything that makes you you."

"No, Sam, it's what a miserable man filled with the desire for vengeance turned us into. And I don't know about you, and , honestly, I don't give a rat's ass anymore but I refuse to suffer for the mistakes of that dead son of a bitch even a second longer."

Sam clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white, "Don't you dare talk about dad like that! He died, saving you! He died so that you wouldn't become the thing I'm looking at right now!"

"That makes the whole him-being-dead thing rather pointless then, doesn't it?"

"He loved you", Sam swallowed with difficulty, his eyes suddenly filled with tears, "I love you. Dean, please, let me help you."

Dean shot his brother a look that pierced right through his soul. His eyebrows furrowed, his face pensive.

Then he raised his left hand and put it over his heart, looking extremely touched.

"Aw, God, I don't know what to say. I mean—saying that you love me with those-", he started laughing then and Sam knew he was being mocked once again, "with those puppy-dog eyes of yours… Ah! Thanks, Sammy! I needed that! I guess we need to have a manly hug and make up, whaddaya say?"

Dean let out another laugh, "You know, If I'd been in such a good mood an hour ago that sweet waitress I met on my way here would've still had all her organs in the right places!"

Dean smirked as he saw the blood draining from Sam's face.

"What's the matter, Sammy?", Dean raised his arms to the side theatrically, "It's not like she had eyes to look at herself by the time I was finished with her!"

Sam fought the urge to throw up.

"You know, I didn't believe it at first when Crowley told me about the things you've done over the last few months", Sam's voice was so quiet that it came out as a whisper.

He'd hoped till the very last moment… hoped that those rumors weren't really true, that Crowley was playing them.

No way Dean could do all those horrible things.

But as he studied his brother, doubt started making its way up from the pit of his stomach to his heart, clutching it tightly and twisting it painfully. He had never seen Dean so far gone before. And the thing in front of him which had taken his place seemed capable of just about anything.

"Now you do then?"

Sam nodded solemnly.

"Now I do", the resignation in his voice was palpable.

"Well, glad we cleared that one up cause ,frankly, I'd have been disappointed if somebody else took credit for some of my works. Especially that one massacre in Rome. You can't tell me that wasn't a masterpiece", Dean sighed over-dramatically and looked up at the sky, "I should've taken a picture."

Dean fumbled with the Blade between his fingers as he reminisced. Sam's eyes drifted to the weapon in his brother's hands and he couldn't help but shudder.

Dean noticed that and a strange glint appeared within his eyes which made Sam really uncomfortable.

"Are you afraid of me, Sam?",his brother finally asked as he slowly started circling him, not taking his eyes off him, not even for a moment.

The question took Sam off guard.

There was a time he would have screamed "NO!" at the top of his lungs, absolutely certain that whatever happened, Dean would be there for him. That no matter how lost or angry his brother was, no matter how desperate or hurt, he would forever be that four-year-old boy who'd saved him that night from the fire and had promised to protect him at all costs.

There was a time.

But now, as Dean kept pacing around him, like a predator playing with his pray, for the first time in his life Sam was afraid. Afraid that the Dean he knew, the Dean he loved with all his heart was gone forever. And he was afraid, afraid of that thing that had taken sanctuary within his brother's body. And the moment that realization came down on him, he felt his world falling apart, he felt it eating him from the inside and he wanted to scream, scream forever until his voice gave up and the air had long left his lungs.

Sam felt that if he opened his mouth the screams would come out, so he kept it shut. He clenched his jaw so hard that it hurt and looked at his brother in a desperate attempt at faking bravado.

Dean stopped inches from his face and stared right into his eyes. He raised his hands and cupped Sam's cheeks. Sam couldn't move.

"You are", Dean whispered and narrowed his eyes observing him carefully, curiosity mixed with something else, something that looked a lot like… satisfaction.

"Good."

Dean's eyes suddenly switched to black and he wrapped his hands around Sam's neck.

"Now listen closely, little brother", the demon inside of him hissed venomously, "Do not try to find me again. Do not try to cure me. And do not-", he dug his nails deep into Sam's flesh which made his brother scream in pain, "Do not try and stop me. Cause, believe you me, you will fail. I'm giving you this one warning. Now, you can go ahead and plot away with Mister Saving Grace and the King of Lilliputs as much as you like, but you'll never be able to win the war that's coming your way. And it will make the Apocalypse seem like Lucifer was throwing a tantrum."

Sam was on the verge of fainting when Dean finally let go, fiercely pushing him away , making him trip over and fall onto the ground. All that air that suddenly burned Sam's lungs initiated a coughing fit.

"Don't you ever think-", he croaked as he struggled to get his next words out and tried to get back up again. It hurt but it didn't matter as long as there was even the slightest chance that Dean, his Dean would hear him, "that I'll ever give up on you!"

He looked at his brother with wide brown eyes, filled with determination and desperation at the same time and if anyone had seen Sam at that moment, they would have been left completely heartbroken at the sight of this wrecked beyond repair young man who was too stubborn to stop fighting even if it killed him.

Dean, who had started walking away, now stopped and without turning around, spoke in a murderously calm voice,

"Oh, but, Sam… I'm counting on that."