The Impala sat quietly hidden in the bushes just outside of a small dark cemetery. Sam had gotten there only a short time before, driving like a bat out of hell all afternoon to try to beat Jake there. Bobby had sent him on, in hopes that he would be able to deal with Jake by himself. Sam's stomach did a little dance when he realized that 'all by himself' was really that...all by himself. Forever.
He had spent so much time during his life trying to be independent. To get away from the constraints others had placed upon him, to get away from his family. He had enjoyed his time alone, doing what he wanted to do, having a 'normal' life. But then his family needed him. His brother needed him, and he had answered the call.
Sam and Dean had spent almost every hour of every day for the last two years together. At first, searching for their father, John, who was in turn searching for the Yellow Eyed Demon, who had killed Sam and Dean's mother. And then trying to put their lives back together after John passed away, under very questionable circumstances. Before and after their father's death, they had dedicated themselves to saving people, hunting things. The family business.
They came as close as ever to killing the Yellow Eyed Demon last year. The Demon had kidnapped John in effort to secure a gun made by Samuel Colt, which was in the Winchester's possession. The Colt, manufactured on the same night as the massacre at The Alamo, was the only gun capable of killing the Demon, and therefore very valuable to both sides. Sam had the opportunity to kill the Demon, but didn't, since doing so would have meant shooting his own father in the heart. They had been pretty beat up after that encounter, and on the way to the hospital the Demon tried to end his dealings with them permanently, by running a semi-tractor-trailer into the Impala at 70 mph. John and Sam had survived the crash fairly well, but between what the Demon did to him and the crash, Dean had almost died. The boys still didn't have all the facts about what happened, but Dean miraculously recovered and a few minutes later John was dead and the Colt was gone. Their best educated guess was that John had made a deal with the Demon to save Dean's life in exchange for his own. Dean had been so pissed, and had said himself "What's dead should stay dead".
The last year had been hard, trying to figure it all out again with their dad gone. Almost losing Dean had been terrible, and when John died, it made Sam truly realize how much he needed, wanted, his brother. Dean had always been there for him, without fail; he called it his 'job'.
Sam's eyes watered as he thought again about his big brother, and his jaw clenched when he thought about what a hypocrite Dean had been, bringing him back from the dead. He rubbed his head and said quietly "Jerk," immediately frustrated that Dean wasn't there to answer with a flippant 'bitch' comment.
Don't, Sam. Don't be mad at Dean. He told himself. Dean did it because he loved you. Stay focused. He crouched behind a large headstone inside the cemetery, .45 drawn and loaded.
Not three minutes later, he heard the large iron gate swing open slowly. Anger flooded through Sam's veins as he recalled Jake's place in all this; in Sam's death, and ultimately in Dean's. As Sam squeezed the grip on his pistol tighter, he couldn't fathom letting him live for his crimes.
Patiently he waited, the seconds dragged on as he could sense Jake coming closer.
Soon, he saw Jake walking toward the large crypt in the center of the cemetery, and in his hand was no other than the Colt.
"Hold it right there." Sam said, standing and levelling his gun at Jake's head.
Jake turned quickly to see Sam, obviously startled, a look of recognition and then confusion on his face. "You can't be here, I killed you."
Sam shrugged, trying not to pull the trigger right then, his hate for the man before him contorting his face. "I came back, just to kill you."
"You couldn't do it before, you think you can now?" Jake shot back snidely. His eyes, cold and calculated, showed that he truly didn't believe that Sam was capable of murder.
"Things have changed. I've got nothin' to lose now." Sam cocked the action on his semi-automatic. "What'd you get sent here to do? What does the Demon want here?"
"He didn't tell me, man, he just told me to open this crypt." Jake motioned toward the large structure. "Said he'd kill my mom and little sister if I didn't, make them eat their own intestines or some messed up shit like that. I got no choice, man." He had turned to fully face Sam, his hands, one still holding the Colt, were palms up in a pleading motion. He had dropped the cocky attitude in response to Sam's actions.
"Oh, my heart is bleeding here. Really." Sam feigned wiping a tear away. He had no patience or compassion for the man who had brought on the death of his last living family member.
Jake shook his head, "You can't stop this." He rocked the upper part of his body toward the crypt, then back to face Sam. "I can't stop this."
Sam clenched and unclenched his jaw again, "You had a choice. I offered you a way out, for us to work together." He narrowed his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly, "You killed me instead."
"Sorry, man. I have to do this." He immediately turned, shoved the Colt into the crypt keyhole and twisted it.
Sam hesitated no longer; he emptied five rounds into Jake's back, then when Jake had fallen, Sam pumped three more rounds into his chest. The blood in Jake's lungs blew out of his mouth and onto Sam's face as he breathed his dying breath. Sam mentally cursed Jake, wiped the blood from his cheek and turned to focus his attention on the crypt.