A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing, everyone! Thank you to beta Abni for reining in what was becoming an immense chapter. Thanks to Galen and Rob for letting me finish this. Not death fic.

Lachrimae

Chapter Five

Flow, My Tears

The day had shifted to night, the light against his eyelids was from the lamp, not the diffused sunlight from the window. He was warm, comforted, safe. The sense of peace that had carried him into sleep was still very much with him. The pain was there, too, growing again, but for the moment he drifted on the soft warm comfort, aware but not yet awake, listening to the soft sounds around him, hushed conversation, the cat purring by his head. The room smelled of food. Soup, maybe? And bread, fresh bread, I wonder if they'll let me have some?

"Good soup," Sam said softly from beside the bed. Ah ha, soup I was right.

"Thanks," Bryn said from the other. Her voice was quiet, gentle, but Dean could hear the something else there.

"I shouldn't have left earlier, when he sent me to the kitchen. I shouldn't have…" Sam said, there was a note of fear in his voice. I wanted you to go, Sam. I needed to talk with Bryn for a minute.

"Sam, I told you it's okay, he just needed a little of the medicine, and you know it makes him sleepy." Bryn's voice was calm.

"Yeah, I know." Sam paused. "What did he talk to you about?" Sam's voice had a panicked note to it.

"Sam…"

"No, damn it, what did he talk to you about?" Sam's voice was getting louder. Dean felt the cat move and a soft growl issued from beside his head. Oh just freaking great, the stupid cat and Sam. Fun. I think I'll go back to sleep.

"Sam," she said again, gently. Dean thought he heard her stand.

"I have to know." The desperation in his brother's voice made Dean start to fight through the encompassing softness he was cushioned in. Sam, it's okay, nothing bad. Everything is okay. "Last time we were here he…he…" Sam broke off, Dean could hear tears in his brother's voice. Sam? "Bryn?"

"Yes, Sam?" Her voice came from the same side of the bed as Sam's that time.

"He came here to die, didn't he?"

"Yes," she said gently. Hey, what happened to client/New Age wack job privilege?

"Doesn't that bother you?" Sam's voice was full of tears. Dean could picture him, standing there, his eyes already red, the tears pooling in them. I wonder if that look will work on her? The hardest heart on earth can't resist that look. Not even dad if Sam really put effort into it. I remember one time…

"People come here to die sometimes, Sam. People who need someplace safe. It's one of the things I do. People can go in peace here."

"But…he can't…" Sam whispered.

"There's something more you need to know, Sam," Bryn said quietly. Oh, don't tell him. Shut up. I thought we were keeping that to ourselves? Come on.

"What?"

"It's about the deal."

"You know about that?" Sam said, incredulous. Shut up, shut up.

"Of course I do." She laughed a little.

"What about the deal?"

"You know my house and property are Bolted, nothing can get in."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing can get out, either Sam."

"What do you mean?" Sam sounded confused for a minute, then Dean heard him gasp. "If, if he dies here…he doesn't…?"

"Right," she said gently. "They can't take him. And it doesn't break the deal. You don't die. They can't see into here, Sam. Nothing really can."

"Oh, god," Sam said so softly Dean could barely hear him. "I can't. I can't." Can't what, Sammy? "What do I do?" The note in his brother's voice was finally enough to force Dean out into the world again.

"Sammy," he said without opening his eyes.

"Dean! Are you awake?"

"Talking wakes people up," Dean said, opening his eyes. Sam looked a little wild-eyed, tears had collected in his eyes. I knew it, that look.

"Sorry." Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"Would you like a little soup?" Bryn said, smiling at him.

"Yeah, thanks." Dean smiled as she left then turned to this brother with a little frown. "Sam? What?" Come on, Sam, just get it over with, I've been listening to you, you know. I know what's going on in that freaky brain of yours. Maybe.

"Nothing, Dean."

"Yeah, not good enough." He pushed himself up in the bed. Dean looked at his brother, trying to get a sense of what was going on.

"Dean, I…" Sam stopped as Bryn came back in the room with a small bowl of soup and a slice of bread. She handed it to Dean with a smile.

"Thanks." He took a spoonful, letting the rich broth roll around on his tongue before swallowing.

"You're welcome. I have a little more research to do, then I'll be back."

"Sure," Dean said, smiling. She smiled at both of them and then walked quietly out of the room. Dean turned to his brother. "Sam?"

"Dean, Bryn told me."

"Yeah? What?" See I wasn't listening at all.

"About this place, about if you…" Sam swallowed, the tears leaking down his cheeks. God, that look kills me every time, how can I resist that look?

"Yeah. I can stay, haunt the place, Sam. It'll be fun, I'll annoy the stupid cat…"

"And what, Dean? I stop by on holidays? Spend a little time with my dead brother?" Sam said, his voice going quiet. Storm's brewing again. Great. I hope the room can take the blow.

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean what the hell were you thinking?"

Something snapped in Dean. "What do you think I was thinking, Sam? I wanted to be safe as I die, so I can spend time with you, without everything else that usually touches us. I want you to be safe when I die, someplace maybe you can find a little peace and if I get out of the deal after I die? Well that's just icing on the damn cake, Sam."

Sam looked a little surprised by his outburst, the hurt "why did you kick me when I was being good" look was in his eyes and on his face. "Dean, I can't please don't ask me." His brother sank down on the bed, staring at his hands.

"Don't ask you what? Sam? Does this still have to do with last time?"

"Please, I can't."

"Sammy?" he said gently, all anger gone, the need to comfort Sam overriding everything.

"Please, don't make me."

"Sam? What?" Dean was a little panicked. Sam sounded like a child who has been asked to do something terrifying.

"Don't make me choose again."

"Choose?"

"Choose to let you go. Choose whether you live or die. I can't, Dean. Please…"

"Sammy?"

"It started the second day after you took the spell. It had…" He swallowed. "It was…it had…It had been getting worse, I knew something was wrong, I…you were… but Dean you have no idea how bad…" Sam stopped himself, looking up at Dean, what Dean saw in his brother's eyes took his breath away.

"Tell me."

"I swore I wouldn't, Dean, I didn't want you to know, but I can't not anymore, I'm sorry." He sighed, his eyes begging forgiveness. "It started the second day…"

Nine Months Earlier

It was late, night having moved into its deepest hours. Silence reigned in the house, even the breeze had stopped. Nothing was moving. Sam would have been at peace, resting in the quiet, in the profound sense of safety the house provided, if not for Dean. His brother's motionless, silent sleep was giving way to restlessness, unnatural restlessness punctuated by soft groans of pain. Sam had been listening to it for hours before he finally dropped off to sleep sometime in the dead of night.

Sunlight woke him, filtering through the curtain. He glanced over at his brother, Dean was still out, still moving a little, groaning, his eye moving rapidly behind close lids. Sam stood and stretched and walked towards the back of the house.

The kitchen smelled of coffee, the sun was streaming in, Sam leaned against the sink and took the cup of coffee Bryn handed him. The sun was warm on his back, easing sore muscles. "How long will he be out?" he asked her.

She smiled gently. "I don't know, each case is different, each spell runs its own course."

"I guess I was kind of hoping he'd be awake this morning," Sam said, sipping his coffee. "When you treated Jess…"

"Sometimes things work that fast, not always though."

"Yeah," he said, biting back the disappointment. He took a breath to go on when a scream shattered the tranquil kitchen. "Dean!" He ran for the bedroom. Dean was still screaming when he got there. Sam put his hands on his brother's shoulders, holding him down as a spasm ran through his body. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"Sam…" He looked at her, the expression on her face was profoundly sad.

"No…" Dean moaned, writhing under his hands. "No, please no, make it stop, Sammy."

"What's happening?" he demanded again, trying to hold Dean down, trying to keep his brother from hurting himself.

"It's fighting my spell, Sam."

"Help him," he begged her.

"I can try something else, we'll see if that will help. I'll be right back." She walked out of the room. The cat came and sat in Sam's chair, watching as Sam tried to stop his brother's pained thrashing. Bryn was back a moment later, another bottle in her hands.

"What is it?" Sam said, suddenly wary. Nothing is working, everything seems to make him worse.

"It's related to the spell, the one for the onflyge. Think of it as a booster? Or like the pills you get to make the painkillers work better?"

"Please, please make it stop." Sam looked down, Dean's face was streaked with tears, his eyes opened a tiny slit.

"Dean?" Are you awake, Dean?

"Make it stop," the anguished plea continued.

"Do you think you can hold him long enough so I can give this to him?" Sam nodded and Bryn bent over his brother. "Dean? I need you to swallow this if you can." Her voice was firm, willing him to obey. She poured the liquid into Dean's mouth, waiting until she saw the movement in his throat. She laid a hand on Dean's chest. His brother was still fighting, but the convulsions were getting weaker, until he was nearly still. Back to groaning and the small restless movements.

"Why is this happening?" Sam asked the room, not expecting an answer.

"The onflyge was so far advanced, Sam." Bryn put a gentle hand on his arm, he felt the warmth from her hand travel up his arm a little, calming the slamming of his heart.

"Why can't we just give him the spell again?" He knew the answer to that as well.

"It will kill him."

"It might not," Sam said desperately. It might not. We have to do something. I can't let this go on. Please, I have to help. Oh, god, if she can't do anything…the second dose might kill him…Dean? What do I do? What would you want?

"It might not, yes, but in all likelihood, Sam, it will kill him. The second dose acts more as a release." She laid her hand against his face. "I will do everything I can to save Dean, but Sam it might get worse from here."

"Worse? How?" His hands were shaking. Oh, god, no. How much worse? What's going to happen? No, please no. I'm not sure I can face that.

"It varies from case to case." Her eyes were sad. "I am so sorry. We'll take it as it goes." She smiled gently. "He'll rest for awhile, Sam, go out into the garden."

"I can't leave him, no." Sam was shaking his head. No, I can't go.

"Sam? That's an order. Go walk the labyrinth, sit under the trees, talk to She-who-lives-in-the-Elder."

"I can't leave him." What if he dies and I'm not here. I can't leave him alone.

"You need to go out and regroup, Sam. This is going to get bad. You need to be ready for it."

"What?" What? When he dies? Is that what I need to be ready for?

"It will be bad, no matter what happens now, it's going to be bad. You go out in the garden or you go to sleep for awhile. One or the other."

"I can't sleep." How could I sleep?

"You will, Sam. Make a choice. Garden or sleep." Her voice was suddenly hard. He understood. Either I go out or she puts me to sleep. I can't leave him. What does she mean it's going to get bad? Dean? What do I do? "Sam?"

"I'll go in the garden." He walked out of the room without a backwards glance, his back tightening into a knot of tension. Sam stormed through the kitchen and out the door, slamming it behind him with a satisfying crash. He stalked out into the gardens, his angry strides taking him to the very back, under the trees that liked the fence. Reaching the fence he stopped for a moment, then vaulted over it, letting his feet carry him out into the field behind the first fence.

Halfway between the first and second fence, there was a place where the plants had been mashed down. "See that, Sammy?" Dean's voice played in his head. "That's where deer sleep at night." "Really? Can we stay tonight and watch?" Sam had asked, the excitement of seeing real live deer had filled his six-year-old heart with glee. "I'll ask dad," Dean grinned at him. Sam sank down onto the ground, turning and letting the tall, sweet-smelling plants block the house from view.

Sam sighed. I'm not really sure how this will help me regroup. A bee hummed lazily as it moved from plant to plant. A bird was calling from the trees, its song sounding like dripping water. A raptor was circling overhead, drifting on the thermals. With another sigh, Sam laid on this back, watching the hawk, the musky scent of the deer mingling with the sweet scented plants. What did she mean it was going to get bad no matter what? Is she trying to get me ready for his death? Dean? Don't die. What do I do if it gets really bad? She needs to make another dose and have it ready. What if it kills him? Can I face that? The onflyge will kill him anyway. How willing am I to let him suffer through that? Can I let that happen? Oh, god, Dean what do I do? You are going to die anyway. Can I do…Can I…Dean, please help me.

The hawk had drifted off and the bird song had changed, the single drip of music had altered and become a symphony as a flock of birds settled in the field a little ways from Sam. He was still laying in the grass watching the sky, a puffy cloud came into view, something was moving in the grass, he turned his head and came face to face with a small brown bunny. It looked at him a little quizzically for a moment and then hopped off. Finally, he sat up, almost annoyed with the sense of calm that had filled his body as he lay in the field. He walked slowly back to the house.

Bryn was in the kitchen when he came in. She smiled a little and handed him a cup of soup without asking him. He sat down at the table for a minute, sipping the rich broth. "Sorry."

"It's alright, Sam. I'm sorry too."

"How is he?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer, even though he knew if something bad had happened she would have come for him.

"Still asleep, we'll go back in a minute, Pye is with him now."

"Dean and that cat." Sam shook his head and finished his soup in silence. He put the cup in the sink and walked back to Dean's room. His brother was tossing in his sleep. As Sam got closer he noticed Dean was sweating. He looked over at Bryn.

"It's beginning," she said softly. Oh, god, no.

Sam sat back down in the chair by the bed. Dean's tossing was getting more pronounced. Sam put his hand over Dean's hoping to calm him through the contact. Dean flinched back as if the touch was painful. Sam leaned back in the chair, his head turned towards Dean.

Bryn left the room at intervals. Once to answer the phone, once to check on something in a book. She would leave him alone with Dean and then reappear half an hour later. The days slowly wound down, Dean getting worse and worse. The groans of pain were louder, his thrashing like someone trying to save themselves from drowning. At one point Bryn had pulled Dean's shirt up, a black spot was visible on Dean's chest. Oh, my god. What's that? Is that what is causing this? Dean you've been living with that all along? Is that why…Did you feel there was no way out?

At sunset it finally went from bad to worse. Dean started screaming in pain, begging Sam to let it stop. Delirious, talking about hunts past, nightmares, all jumbled together. Black, bloody tears ran across his face as the spot on his chest began seeping blackened blood. Sam tried talking to Dean to calm him down, sometimes his voice reached his brother, sometimes it didn't. Dean kept begging him to stop the pain, to help him. Can I stop it? Can I face that? I can't watch this. Oh god, Dean. I think it might be better if…Can I let you go? I have to try something. I have to do something. I can't let him go on like this. Dean…

"You have to do something," Sam said for the tenth time around midnight.

"There is nothing left to do Sam. We just have to wait."

"How long?" he snapped. "How long will he be like this?" The words had propelled him out of the chair until he was standing in front of her, towering over her. How long, damn it?

"Sam…"

"Tell me."

"I don't know. My spell and the onflyge are at war."

Realization, cold, hard. "He's dying." Oh, please no.

"I don't know, Sam."

"Then what?"

She swallowed. "I don't know how long it will go on anymore, Sam. It could be a long time."

"What do you mean?"

"I just don't know, Sam. Even if my spell overpowers the onflyge, I don't know what will happen. He could be chronically ill. It might come back. He could be…damaged."

"Damaged? How?" Oh, god, Dean, what?

"I don't know, Sam. This is serious, maybe the worst I have dealt with in… It's bad. If he lives."

"You don't think he will?"

She looked sad. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Dean screamed, thrusting himself up in the bed. Sam pushed him back down. "Please, Sammy, please make it stop," Dean said, his eyes open a little, meeting Sam's begging. "Please, Sammy." He was fighting Sam's hands as he begged.

"We have to give him the spell again," Sam said. Will it kill you, Dean? Can I do that? Oh, god if this gets worse, I think I do want that. Dean—Dean what do I do?

"It will kill him."

"You don't know that for sure." She's sure. She's sure it will kill him.

"Sam, I told you."

"Please, Sam, please make it stop." Black beads of sweat were running down his brother's face. "It hurts, it hurts." A convulsion rocked his body, nearly throwing Sam off.

"It's okay, Dean, it will be okay. I promise." Oh, god I can't let this go on, can I? I have to try sometime. "Anything is better than this," he said, feeling tears on his face. He looked up at Bryn. "Why won't you do this?"

She hesitated. "Sam, you're asking me…"

"Please, please, Sam." The plea ended in a groan.

"What?" Sam demanded, angry. You already told me it might kill him, what? Why won't you do this?

"You're asking me to knowingly take a life, Sam."

"It might not kill him." Dean writhed under his hands the black sweat drenching him as blood filled the shirt on his chest. Why does that make a difference? You mean you never have?

"Sam, I can't. I made a deal a long time ago to never purposefully take life." Deal? What the hell does that mean?

Dean screamed again. A wordless cry of agony. "Please, help him, anything is better than this." Death, I think death is better than this. Forgive me, Dean. He met her eyes. "Please. Please help him." He met her eyes. "Is there any hope at this point or will he go on like this?" The look in her eyes told him what he needed to do. No hope. "Make the spell. I'll give it to him, you won't be taking his life, I will." Dean? Oh, god, Dean… "Please help him."

Bryn was crying, the cat had started hissing at Sam. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Come with me, Pyewacket."

"Please, Sammy, please."

"It's okay, Dean. It will be okay." Sam held him down as he thrashed. Dean was calling his name sometimes, screaming in pain the rest.

"Here," Bryn said coming back into the room a long time later. She handed him the chalice. "I'll be outside." She walked out, the cat hissed at him again and followed her out.

Sam held the cup in shaking hands. She's sure it will kill him. Dean cried out again. Oh, god, Dean, what do I do? I can't let this go on, I can't. Does he die now or later in this agony? She's sure, I can tell, that her first spell won't work. He could be like this for, god, how long? Dean? What would you want me to do? A vague memory drifted into his head of himself, trapped in a hospital in agony, and Dean promising to help him die if they couldn't figure it out. I made him forever promise. Does that go for me? Dean?

"NOOOOOOO. Sammy," Dean cried out then lapsed into harsh screams, convulsions wracking his body. Oh, god, Dean. I can't let you go on like this. Anything is better, Dean. Anything. He's dying anyway. He can't go on like this. Dean? I'm sorry. You're dying, but maybe I can ease it. Dean, I don't want to lose you, but I have to do something, I have no other choice.

He propped his brother up and waited until a spasm had passed before holding the cup to his lips. "Drink, Dean. I promise it will help. I promise. Do you hear me?" Dean obeyed, even in the state he was in, Sam's words reached him. He shuddered again, moaning in pain and then suddenly relaxed, dropping down onto the bed. Sam put a hand on his brother's chest, waiting for a heartbeat, waiting for a breath. Nothing.

"Goodbye," Sam whispered. Oh, god, what have I done? Dean? Please. I know it was the only way, but Dean, what have I done? Please. I don't even know what I am asking for. He felt a flutter under his hand as Dean's heart took a tiny beat, his chest rose, only inches, but it was a small breath. "Dean?" Dean, please live, please live. He put his head into his hands for a minute before leaning back in the chair, his eyes on his brother, waiting for the moment when the poison he gave his brother would finally take him away, not noticing the tears running down his face or the shaking of his hands.

To Be Continued