This is the last cliffhanger...I promise ;) Thanks again, everyone!

Sam let the apology sink in. At first he didn't even accept the meaning. How could Dean be dead? Dean was unbreakable, unstoppable. He was the one force in Sam's life that was constant and true.

Sam blinked, shifting his focus to the ambulances and fire trucks where the man had pointed. Had Dean really been carried out, only to die of his injuries before his brother could get to him?

And what if I had gotten to him in time? I can't control the gift the Devil gave me. I don't know how to make it work now anymore than I did in Missouri…it was just luck back then…

The young hunter looked down at his grimy, shaking palms. Healing hands? Maybe, but he was damned if he knew how. All he'd done was sit at Dean's bedside and panic after the truck business. There was no way to know what had brought on the miraculous gift that Azazel had given him.

But what if I can still save Dean? What if the gift could bring him back?

Sam began to shake more, and his brother's words echoed through his mind.

What's dead should stay dead…

But this was Dean, this was different. Sam began to push through the crowds to the spinning colored lights, but as the line of people thinned, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Even if he could still save Dean, wasn't using the demonic gift that way wrong? He wouldn't just be healing someone this time, he'd be playing with fate, destiny to actually bring someone back.

Sam huffed and shook his head. Just what the hell did he think he was going to do anyway? Maybe Azazel would have taught him how to take lives, but there was no one to show him how to use his gift to save them. He was stuck in limbo, a gifted freak alone in the world.

Can't live like this. Don't want to live like this…

Sam let his fingers slide into his jacket pocket and feel the chilly steel of his Glock. Somehow, its ice-cold touch let him know what he had to do. He wasn't going to be the devil's pawn. He wasn't going to be alone and hunted by a demon and his own kind too because of his gift.

"Hey, kid?" The fireman from earlier called out to him, but Sam didn't want his condolences. He didn't want comforting. Right now, all Sam wanted was to meet his maker and hope he didn't find out that meant a one way ticket to Hell.

Ignoring the voice behind him, Sam began to run, to push through the gathering of onlookers and terrified students until he was clear of the Uni – clear of the place that had taken his brother's life.

His journey was a short one. It didn't take long, after all, to find a nice quiet spot to end it all. All he needed was a moment alone, a moment to remember his family, his mother, father, brother and sweetheart one last time before oblivion.

The hunter nestled his gun in his mouth, letting the barrel rest on his lower lip. He closed his eyes, wishing there was someone left to say his farewells to.

Sam's forefinger closed on the trigger, muscles tensing as he pulled back on the sprung mechanism.

In the Kansas night, a sole gunshot's discharge echoed across the local river and then all was still; not even the muted sounds of nearby traffic broke the silence.

The scene remained that way for a second, maybe two, and then Sam groaned, rolling on the ground in agony as he cradled a second bruised and broken hand. Next to him, his battered Glock lay in the soft mud, damaged and unused. He blinked, dazed at having been fired at by some unseen gunman.

What the hell? Demons don't carry forty-fives!

It took two more seconds for Sam to realize who did. He rolled into a sitting position, a look of amazement mixed with trepidation on his face as his eyes met Dean's.

The elder hunter was a short distance away, teetering on his feet, bruised and bloodied, but seemingly alive – for now.

Dean's dead…it must be a trick by Azazel, but then, he wouldn't need to shoot the gun away…he has powers like in the cabin…

Dean spat a clot of blood from his mouth, his glazed eyes focusing on something behind his brother as he spoke. "Dying wasn't your choice, Sammy…" He paused, struggling to take down a breath. The smoking auto in his hand dangling from his fingertips as he struggled to keep a grip. "It was his choice. He was putting those ideas into your head. What he can't control, he wants to destroy. What he can't harvest, he burns…He might have given you those gifts, but he sure as hell hadn't counted on Winchester gall. He hates you because he can't control you. The power of life and death in your hands, Sammy, not his…"

Sam spun around, abruptly forgetting the pain from his shattered hand where Dean had shot the Glock away. Behind him, Azazel stood smirking, still taking their father's form in the long and familiar overcoat. "You really think your brother knows so much about me, Sam? Even his attempt to be rid of me with Flauros was half-hearted. You knew I'd be back, didn't you? And you know I can control. How many times have you failed to harm me? Failed to stop me? You're weak. You lack the ability to thwart me…"

Dean still stared at the thing that dared to mimic John, defiant to the end, even though his favorite weapon slowly fell from his grasp and landed in the mud at his feet. He was tired, weary of life itself, but he wasn't done yet – not while Azazel still threatened Sam.

"Maybe I lack the ability because the only things I ever put my faith in are things I can see, touch, and understand, but Sammy, he's different. My brother, he has enough faith for both of us…" Dean swallowed hard. It was an effort to stay upright, let alone valiant in the face of such a foe, but he wasn't going to hit the floor, not just yet. "You see, I just happen to know the power to banish your sorry ass doesn't come from any spell or ritual. I finally worked it all out. The greatest power of all is from the heart, and dude, Sammy got your ass whooped in that department." The trademark grin appeared on bloodied lips. "See, Sammy might be a child born of darkness, but he sure as hell isn't filled with it…"

Azazel's glowing eyes and victorious sneer seemed to falter. Maybe it was a trick of the moonlight filtering down through the clouds. Or maybe, Dean had finally found the monster's Achilles' heal. Dean liked that. He liked the sudden idea that even a creature like this knew fear. Satan perhaps was un-killable, but he wasn't beyond banishment. The bible had already proved that.

Spurred on by the knowledge his guesswork had paid off, Dean drew the strength to finish what he'd started. He believed it, now he had to make sure Sam did too. Faith just didn't tend to mean squat without the person really trusted without actually seeing. "Jesus resisted temptation from you three times in the desert, didn't he? Seems to me you've had your three chances at getting Sammy, and you screwed em up big time. Funny how history has a way of repeating itself, isn't it?"

Sam's mouth dropped open at his brother's biblical reference and what he was suggesting. It was so unlike Dean to put faith in anything, let alone read the bible, and yet, here he was spouting parts from the good book better than a preacher on a pulpit. All along they'd searched for some obscure way to kill the thing, and maybe all they'd needed to do was look in their hearts. Could it really be that simple?

"Sam is mine. He can't escape his future…" The demon looked to the younger Winchester. "Your soul was given to me as a payment in full by your mother. You can't change that…"

"Evil doesn't have to begat evil, Sammy. Trust your instincts. Don't listen to this bastard…" Dean felt the muscles in his legs begin to give way, but he fought it, just like he'd fought everything in his life. He couldn't fall, not until this was over. Not until Sam had shown Satan there was enough good in the world to still keep the son of a bitch in hell where he belonged.

Sam's heart was pounding until he could feel the throb in his ears. Finally, he understood what could banish the devil. Finally, he realized that only the ultimate sacrifice would do as proof of his faith. It wasn't really that different from what he'd come here to do in the first place.

The youngest Winchester stooped, quickly grabbing his brother's fallen weapon before Dean could do anything to stop him. "I might have been created for evil, but I'll never succumb to it. Not now, not ever." He walked closer, putting the muzzle of Dean's forty-five to his head. "I have faith there is a source of good in this world. Faith that good will always overcome the like's of you. If my death is the only thing that will prove what I believe, then so be it…"

Sam took down a breath and let his trembling forefinger pull back on the trigger. Putting on any kind of pressure sent shooting tendrils of pain down his broken hand, but he ignored it. The pain would soon be banished to oblivion, just like the demon he had fought for so long.

As the hammer of the weapon fell back, Azazel's anguished roar filled the embankment and beyond. His mortal form exploded in a shower of light and black particles, and his very essence seemed to be sucked down into the earth. Down to the pits of Hell where his other demonic brethren resided and waited for their chance to escape their prison.

As the satanic wail dissipated, Sam opened his eyes and gaped at the weapon in his bruised palm. He'd pulled the trigger. It should have sent a slug smashing through his skull, exploding his brain all over the river's edge, but it hadn't. "I…" He stammered, not comprehending how he'd been spared.

Dean grinned roguishly and then finally let his knees buckle.

Forgetting his lucky escape, Sam dropped the automatic and dived to his brother's side, kneeling in the soft earth to carefully tug Dean's head and shoulders clear of the mud. Cradling his big brother, he began to cry without even really knowing which emotion had brought out the tears.

Dean took a weary breath, still managing to smirk even though it hurt. "You didn't really…think I'd drop a loaded gun anywhere near your ass the mood you were in, did you? Guess you should have expected it after River Grove. Couldn't…couldn't let goofy Sasquatch boy shoot himself, not then, not now…not ever…"

"I thought you were already dead…they said…" Sam looked at the blood on Dean's coat, on his shirt, on his jeans even. It was everywhere. Just like Missouri… "I need to get some help!"

Dean waved him off, moving with a slight grunt in Sam's arms. "Can't believe the faith thing actually worked…guess he might be back when he realizes I emptied the clip…"

Sam's face contorted into an even bigger frown than it was already wearing. "And then what?"

"Guess…guess you'll really have to shoot yourself…" Dean winked, licking some of the blood from his lips and then added. "I think it's the actual act of faith, Sammy. You didn't know it was empty. You still pulled the trigger. He can't stand up to that kind of…kinda of blind belief in good…" The hunter sighed, watching the confusion in his brother's eyes. He wished he could explain more. He wished he could disperse all the black clouds and give Sammy some hope, but there just wasn't time. He was too tired, too weary.

Dean's eyes slowly rolled back in their sockets and he spoke no more.

It was what Sam had expected, what he'd known was going to happen, but he still couldn't accept it. Not now, not like this. Dean wasn't supposed to die in his arms. He was supposed to go out fighting, weapon in hand like some ancient Viking.

Sam looked up to the heavens, his soul pleading that if their truly was a God to be shown how to save his brother. How to use the evil gift he'd been given for a purpose other than to kill. But the heavens, the Gods were silent.

Suddenly, Sam wished there really had been a bullet in the clip. He wished his death had come quick, so that whatever afterlife his brother was headed for, he could have been there with him too. "NO!" The yell was almost as loud as Azazel's, and this time, it did draw just a little more attention…

tbc...