Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (though thanks to doyleshuny I now know of two more films that Jared Padalecki is in)

Misplaced Revenge

Dean remembered back to that day. It had been crappy, even by their standards. Firstly, Walt and Roy had barged into their motel room, and Dean still couldn't believe that that had happened. He always slept closest to the door, the better to protect Sam. But, that one night he hadn't. The two hunters had come in and disarmed them, pointing their guns at his little brother. They had then blamed Sam and Dean for starting the Apocalypse. Dean still remembered Sam pleading with them, begging them to listen, and the sound of fear in his baby brother's voice still tormented him. That was just yet another example of when he had failed to protect his baby brother. And then, the next thing he remembered was that bastard Walt putting two rounds in Sam's chest, spraying blood everywhere and dropping his limp and dead brother backwards on the bed, blood decorating the sheets and the wall.

Dean had warned them there and then that he was going to be pissed. Walt had then told Roy to shoot him too, fearing Dean's retribution, knowing full well what the younger hunter would do to the sick son of a bitch when he resurrected because he had killed his baby brother, whether it stuck or not.

But then, Walt had also killed him. And so, the two of them had gone to heaven, where they were constantly pursued by that bastard Zachariah, eager to earn brownie points with Michael by bringing him his true vessel. As a result the bastard had warped their memories of their mother, making her into his faithful slave to their disgust.

But it was their individual memories that had bothered Dean the most. While Sam had been present in every one of his, he hadn't been present in any of Sam's. Yeah, sure, in all the memories Sam was a kid, when he needed him most and relied on him day in and day out, but at least Sam was in them.

Dean hadn't been in any of Sam's. Thanksgivings with people who weren't family. The night he left for Stanford. They were the sort of memories that Sam had cherished, ones when he had gotten away from his family, escaped their life just for a little while. And that had hurt Dean a hell of a lot more than he was willing to admit.

After the boys had returned from heaven, and Cas had decreed that the amulet was worthless for finding God, who clearly didn't care that his angels were trying to destroy the world or that humanity's days might have been numbered, he had returned the amulet to Dean.

Who, in full view of his baby brother, the one who had given it to him, the one who had chosen him over their father (not that their dad had given him much cause to choose him over Dean), had dumped one of the most precious gifts he had ever received, simply to hurt his brother.

Cas had thought it was worthless. Dean had thought that Sam didn't care as much about him as much as he did about him. God didn't care. They couldn't stop the Apocalypse. Everything had joined together, and Dean had deliberately drawn out the process before dropping the amulet into the bin and leaving the room, leaving his brother behind once more.

That drive away from the motel where they had been murdered had been unpleasant to say the least. Dean was hurt and furious with Sam, with Cas, with God, with Zachariah, with the whole damn situation. Sam had clambered into the car, tears in his eyes, shot a look at the angry look on his brother's face, and had turned and faced the window, and hadn't moved from that position, not talking for hours.

The atmosphere in Cold Oak had been better, and Sam had been dead there.

They hadn't talked all day after that. Sam had made attempts to try and tell him, to talk to him, but Dean hadn't let him, and after that he had abandoned Sam in order to square things up before he, in his selfish misery, went and doomed the world by saying yes. He, the one who ever since they had found out Sam was Lucifer's true vessel had assassinated his brother's character day by day, reiterating every time the fact that he didn't have any faith in Sam, believing that he eventually would say yes to Lucifer and doom the world, telling him that eventually he would cave, implying he was weak and would always cave to evil, that he was born evil, despite Sam pleading with him not to say that., he had been the one who had caved and wanted to say yes to those bastard angels just so they could have their showdown and damn the world.

Dean wanted to scream in frustration. He knew at the time that Sam had wanted to explain, but he wouldn't let him. He was too busy being depressed and woe begone, and taking a savage pleasure from hurting Sam and preparing to fuck his little brother over to care. And now, three years later, Sam was still hurting from what Dean had done.

The two of them might be in a state but he was damned if he was going to let his brother be hurt by what he had done back then anymore. He had to sort this. Besides, if Walt and Roy actually did kill them (not that he intended to let that happen), he didn't want that to be unresolved before they did die.

"Sammy, wake up, we need to talk." Dean said, gently shaking his little brother with his good hand, and Sam made a groggy noise but did as instructed.

He had regretted it in later days. As soon as he had abandoned Sam he had regretted it, wanting a last memento of his brother before he gave in to the angels, like a coward. And when Sam had come for him, pleading with him to come back, after Dean had taken great joy in driving the angel sword through Zachariah's head, he wished he still had it, to show his brother that he did care, that he didn't think he was worthless, that he was the reason that he was still fighting. But the amulet had been gone, lost forever due to one moment in which Dean had wanted to deliberately scar his brother with his actions, and he had succeeded all too well. And when Sam had gone into the cage, when Dean had had to live a year without him, he wished he had the amulet, a constant reminder of his baby brother, who he loved more than anything, who he had pushed away so many times when all Sam had really done was want a life outside of hunting, when he had thought he had been doing the right thing, when he had done the human thing and screwed up and his brother had persecuted him for it rather than helped him.

He still missed its presence to this day, and he vaguely recalled trying to finger it before he had come looking for Sam. He really did hate himself at times.

"What is it Dean? By the way, I feel like shit." Sam commented, struggling to sit up and look at his brother, and Dean supposed he ought to follow suit, sitting up and looking at his brother in the darkness.

"You were dreaming." Dean said softly, and he recognised the look in his brother's eyes, the pure 'deer in headlights' look that he had always had when he had been caught doing something that he knew would cause trouble or most likely get him into it.

Dean remembered the first time he had had that look. He'd only been four, and they had been at Bobby's, and he had knocked over a candle and burnt one of Bobby's books, and Dean had seen and helped him put out the flame. And as soon as he had fixed Dean with those eyes, he had been totally helpless and hadn't mentioned it to Bobby, who had miraculously and to their great amusement, blamed their father, and given him a tongue lashing for it.

"No I wasn't." He protested softly, and Dean was sure he heard a tinge of childlike denial in his voice, and he suppressed the small smile that it brought to his face.

"Yeah you were. About the last time those bastards up there killed us." Dean said, and Sam looked away, and he could see his brow crease in what he knew was anger and hurt.

"Forget it Dean. Let me go back to sleep." He said, but Dean grabbed his shoulder before he could lie down.

"No Sam. We need to talk about it." Dean said, and knew immediately that saying that wasn't going to win him any favours.

Sam scoffed, predictably.

"Now you want to talk about it? It's been three years Dean, and you want to talk about it now? Little late don't you think?" Sam hissed, and Dean knew he had every right to be pissed off.

"Sam, I made a mistake that day. That was yet another jerk move I made back then, and I did that one in particular to hurt you. I knew how much it would hurt you, and I did it, to get back at you. I'm so sorry, I never imagined it had hurt you so badly, so badly that you still think about it." Dean said sadly, and Sam glowered at him.

"I don't." He snarled, and Dean caught his chin and forced him to look at him, and recoiled slightly when he saw the anger blazing there.

"Yes you do. I heard you, pleading with me not to drop it when you were dreaming. That you were worthless." He said calmly, knowing that if his brother's arms were working, he'd probably have hit him.

"Dean it was years ago, so let it go alright!" Sam snapped, but Dean shook his head.

"Not until we talk about this." He said, refusing to reflect on the ironic role reversal.

Sam grunted in exasperation and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You want to talk? Talk. Why did you do it?" he demanded, and Dean suddenly realised that by forcing this issue he had sacrificed control of the situation.

Dean sighed.

"Sam, I wasn't thinking straight. Cas said it was worthless for finding God. Walt and Roy had murdered us. Zachariah had played with our heads and twisted everything. And I was hurt, I was angry, that I wasn't in any of your memories. I thought you didn't care about me as much as I cared about you, all your memories, I wasn't there and you were leaving me behind, and I was hurt and pissed. So when I got it back, I had already lost all hope and I thought I didn't matter to the thing that I was fighting for. I wanted to hurt you like you'd hurt me, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dumped the amulet. I know it was a horrible and stupid thing to do, I never should have done it, but I just wanted to make you hurt, I wanted to be cruel to you. And when Cas gave it back, I dumped it. It would hurt you and show how pissed off I was all in one. And it worked." He lamented.

And then to his great surprise, despite the pain his brother was in, Sam slammed his relatively good fist into Dean's face, knocking him flat on his back.

"You jerk. You think those memories were about getting away from you? Wrong Dean! I had another family member, someone I heartily disliked ninety percent of the time. Did it ever occur to you, you self absorbed asshole, that those memories might have come back because they represented me getting away from dad? No! Because everything I do is all about you, it's never about me is it, it all comes back to you! You weren't in the memories you saw, and you acted all dejected and misunderstood. In yours, I was a needy kid, relying on you for everything, that's the way you like me isn't it, utterly dependent on my big brother!" he yelled, and Dean looked up at his brother, flabbergasted.

Every time he had thought about those events, dumping the amulet, Dean had always assumed Sam's memories were those because he wasn't there, because he had escaped their crappy lives. He had never once even considered the possibility that it might be because Sam was happy he got away from their father, and have nothing to do with Dean.

"Sam-"

"I'm not finished! We were being hunted by Zachariah that day, and you know how much of a jerk he was, did it occur to you that he might have manipulated my memories? No, because you were too pissy because you finally discovered I wasn't as reliant on you as you wanted me to be." He spat angrily, and Dean sat back up, to try and calm his brother, but Sam fiercely shook him off.

"But that wasn't all. Cold Oak. Concrete. Pike Creek. The past. Any of those ring a bell Dean?" he snarled angrily, and Dean gulped a little.

Cold Oak was where Sam had died for the first time, killed by Jake Tulley, the one that had led to the deal. Concrete, where Sam had been hit by lightning and had died instantly after a wish gone wrong. Pike Creek where Zachariah had removed his lungs. And the past, where that treacherous hooker Anna had impaled Sam through the gut. All times Sam had died.

And that meant that all were times that he had gone to heaven.

"I remembered my best memories as soon as I woke up, the ones I relieved each time. You and me, our fireworks display. The first time you let me drive the Imapala. When you came back from the dead. When I fixed you after the Mystery Spot. The first time you backed off on a girl we both liked to give me a shot at her. The first time you stood up for me to dad. And strange though it sounds, the day you took me away in Stanford. And I had a whole lot of other memories every time I died, all of them involving you, until then. Back then, I wanted to run, just like I had then. Away from the angels, away from the demons, away from their Apocalypse, and most importantly away from my big brother who got so wrapped up in his own self pity that he didn't realise that he was losing me, who only looked out for me because of a duty not because he wanted to, assumed I was basically inherently evil just because I'd failed his expectations once, and who didn't have any faith in me and assumed from the start I was just going to cave to Lucifer because you didn't think I was strong enough to say no, which to me implied you thought I was evil!" Sam hollered, and Dean sat there, astounded.

He had had no idea. And Sam, Sam had let him stew in his own self pity. He had seen that Dean wouldn't listen to anything that he said, and as a result, had given up trying to talk to him, tell him the truth, and because he was too busy nursing his wounded pride, he hadn't seen it at all. Sam had tried, just like with his drinking, to make him see sense, and had once more been the one who had gotten hurt the most. And once again it was Dean who had inflicted those wounds.

"I gave you that amulet all those years ago...you vowed to never take it off, no matter what. I gave you that because you meant more to me than anything, more to me than dad ever could. You were the one who raised me, and I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. And because you let everything get to you, because you realised I didn't need you as much as you wanted to believe, and because my memories weren't bursting with memories of you, you thought that I didn't care, that I didn't love you. So you threw away the most important thing I had ever given you, and you knew full well what you were doing, you knew how much it would hurt. And you did it anyway. And you never once stopped to think that you might have gotten it wrong. No, saintly big brother never does anything wrong. You'd hit me before, sometimes I'd deserved it. You'd tried to kill me before. But nothing ever hurt me the way that did." Sam said, bitter tears streaming down his face.

"Oh Sammy..." Dean said softly, feeling his stinging jaw.

"I know I screwed up back then Dean. But you kept pulling away from me, and only really started to care again when I told you how I planned to stop Lucifer. It took two of us to wreck the world, and our relationship Dean. You dumping the amulet just proved to me that you didn't care about getting it back." Sam said, his voice betraying his tears.

Dean closed his eyes. Yeah, they had both screwed up back then. But while Sam had wanted to move past it, Dean had continually thrown it back at him, reminded him just how badly things had gone wrong, something he blamed him for. Dean had never wanted to admit that he was just as guilty as Sam had been, and had never missed the chance to blame him for what had happened.

Once more his double standards applied to everyone but himself.

"Sammy..." he said, and his brother looked at him with tear filled eyes.

"I want you to listen to me ok? Listen to me. I acted like a royal jerk back then. You were right, we both screwed up epically. We both screwed up our relationship pretty good too. You chose Ruby, I chose Cas, and we didn't choose each other, and that's where it went wrong. But what happened back then, with the amulet, that was simply me being hurt and lashing out. I didn't want to admit to myself how much we had both changed, how much we had pulled away from one another, how truly screwed up things had become for the two of us. How much I thought I had lost you, to the stage that I wasn't even in your memories. I never once thought about all the other times you had died, that it was dad you wanted away from, or how the way we treated each other back then might have affected what I saw. I have regretted throwing that away ever since. But we did become brothers again, before you told me your plan. I finally stopped feeling so sorry for myself, so miserable, and I decided to trust you, believe in you again. But I never once told you that that's why I killed that bastard Zachariah, because I finally forgave you for everything. I spent so long being mad at myself, and at you, I didn't realise how much I had lost until those memories. And I figured if that's how you felt, why should I care? Believe me Sam. If I could go back and do all of that again, I would in a heartbeat. I know you would too. But you'd focus on everything. I'd just focus on fixing us, because we both screwed ourselves over time and again back then, and we nearly lost each other. We hurt each other a lot, and you were too busy trying to fix the mess and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself that we didn't try to fix it, and eventually we both gave up. And I'm sorry for that Sam. I'm so sorry for that. I never should have done that. And above all, I never should have thrown away the amulet. It was petty, vindictive and cruel, and I've regretted it every day since I did it. And now I know how much it hurt you, I have a feeling I'm going to regret it ten times more." He said, and he was delighted to hear Sam give him a weak chuckle.

"Jerk." Sam said softly, and Dean smiled.

"Bitch."

"You really wish you hadn't done it?" Sam asked quietly, and Dean nodded.

"I've never regretted anything so much. Well, other than letting you get killed or trying to kill you myself, but that's different." He said airily, and Sam sniggered.

"Thanks Dean. I just thought..." he said, and Dean shook his head.

"No way Sammy. It was a jerk move, and I should never have done it. I did it to hurt you, to get back at you. I just, didn't think that it would hurt you so badly. I wish I still had the amulet, I miss it, it was, well it was us. I tried to touch it when I came to get you, you know. Didn't even realise I was doing it. I missed it every day since, and if I could get it back, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He said, not noticing the small smile on Sam's face.

They sat together for a while, Dean gently rubbing Sam's back, not aware he was even doing it, until another thought struck him.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have never, and never will, think that you are worthless. Ok? And if I ever hear you say you're worthless again, I will kick your ass, despite my promise." He growled fiercely, but it was fierceness that stemmed from his protective instinct in regards to Sam, that part that he had gained back, the part that was dedicated to protecting his little brother and making him happy, not fierceness from anger.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said softly, and Dean saw just how much his words had just meant to his little brother.

"Alright, now that we've deal with yet more emotional scars that I inflicted on you, how do we get out of this mess? We obviously can't overpower them, we wouldn't win in a fight." Dean said, and he watched in delight as Sam's brow started to furrow, like it always did when he was thinking. There were advantages to having a smarter brother than him, not that he'd admit it.

"Right. We can't escape, neither of us can move very far, and you'd scream like a girl if we met a snake, so that's out." He said, and Dean glowered at his baby brother.

"I wouldn't not scream like a girl if we met a snake thank you." He said tartly, vowing never to mention to Sam that he whimpered like a girl when he saw the snake on the way up here.

Sam grinned.

"Really? I remember I snuck a toy one in your bag once and you ran out of the room shrieking. Even dad laughed at you for that one." He reminisced, a wicked grin on his face, but Dean had developed a curiously apt case of deafness.

"Anyway, we can't run out. We can't overpower them. We also can't survive another round of torture. So...," Sam mused, and then his eyes lit up, "we die!"

Dean's hearing had suddenly returned, and he looked at Sam as though he was crazy.

"Uh Sammy...the idea is to survive, escape, then kill those bastards. Remember?" he asked, touching his brother's forehead to see if he had a fever or if he was still dehydrated, and Sam shoved his hand off his forehead, irritated by his brother's fussing.

"Listen to me. Walt and Roy are idiots, right?" he asked.

"Idiots who got the drop on me and you." Dean felt obliged to point out, and Sam flapped his better hand impatiently.

"Yeah, I know. But, thinking isn't their strong suit, they've shown that. Walt's got anger issues and Roy's too much of a sap. We take advantage of that." Sam explained, and Dean felt he was beginning to vaguely understand what he was getting at.

"You want us to fake our own deaths?" Dean asked suspiciously, and Sam shrugged.

"Well sort of. You kick up a fuss in the morning, claiming that I'm dead. Walt and Roy come down to check, we ambush them. I know we're wounded but they'll have just woken up, they'll be disorientated, sluggish. We attack them, turn the tables and make a break for it." Sam explained, and Dean supposed it would work, if they got very lucky.

"Yeah, but we're too weak to ensure they'll be out of the fight, and while I'd love nothing more than to dish out a little payback, I'd rather we get out of here and come back to deal with them another day, when we're the ones with the advantage." Dean said, and Sam grinned.

"Well, listen carefully, because I've got an idea."

XX

Dean didn't like the idea, and even Sam had to admit, he had had a lot of better ideas. But, it was the best they could do, and considering one of Dean's main objections was that he would have to do most of the work, they had little choice but to go through with it. Because after another hour or so, Sam had started to go incredibly pale, worrying Dean. They had to get a hospital soon, but if he didn't want to lose his little brother, he would have to do it even quicker, because he was sure he was developing a fever, a result of his wounds, the heat, and his dehydration.

Dean had slowly and carefully dragged himself out into the torture room that night, and was relieved to see that Walt and Roy were both sound asleep. But, the sun was starting to come up, and it was bad enough dragging him, he wouldn't be able to drag Sam when he was in a much weaker state than his big brother was. But thankfully, Dean didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. Picking up two jagged shards of rock, he slithered back into their room, in preparation to make their move. First, he gave the obviously more nasty one to Sam, who was beginning to shake. He needed water more than anything. He was mired with grime and blood, stubble was growing on his face, his eyes were tired, his lips cracked, and his complexion was pale. Dean was slightly better off, but he knew this had to work first time, or else they would never get out of this alive. Clutching his shard up his sleeve, he looked to Sam, who nodded grimly, and turned his head away from the door, and Dean watched, alert for any signs his brother was 'still alive', and saw none.

"Here goes nothing." Dean said, and cleared his throat.

"Get your asses down here! Sam's stopped breathing!" Dean roared, sounding quite panicky if he did say so himself.

He continued to shout, and was rewarded a minute later by a furious Walt and a sleepy Roy barging down the stairs into the room.

"What the hell are you yelling about?" Walt demanded, smacking Dean across the head, making him curse.

"It's Sam, I couldn't wake him, and he's stopped breathing..." he breathed, eyes wild, secretly hoping they would take the bait, otherwise this would be a lot more dangerous, and they probably wouldn't make it.

Roy grabbed him by the front, his breath still smelling of booze, making Dean feel slightly sick.

"What did you do to him huh? Figured you'd deny Walt and I the pleasure?" he snarled, while Walt swore and went over to check on Sam.

"Of course not, he's my little brother you asshole, I couldn't kill him!" Dean protested, hoping they didn't know about Dillimore, and readying himself.

Walt kicked Sam, and received no response.

"Wake up you little shit, you don't get to die until I tell you!" he snarled, and rolled Sam over.

And Dean had never been so proud of his baby brother.

Sam rolled over, and with perfect precision, and a whole lot of venom, he stabbed upward with his shard of rock, plunging it right into Walt's eye. Walt gave a furious scream of excruciating pain, and as Roy turned to see what was going on, Dean drove his own shard into Roy's neck. Roy gagged as he flailed backwards, and Dean smacked him clean in the face with his good arm, knocking the wimpier hunter to the ground.

Sam was struggling to stand on his dodgy legs, while Walt screamed in pain, blood streaming from his face as he tried to pull the shard from his eye. Dean then seized the gun from Roy and fired, and Walt dropped, leaving Sam leaning against the wall while Roy groaned on the floor.

He didn't wait to see if he had killed him. He hoped not. He wanted to make that bastard suffer for all he had done to Sam, and he definitely didn't deserve a quick death. Dean hobbled over to Sam, the pain from all his wounds burning him up, and he threw his arm under Sam's, and the two of them began a quick hobble to the door, desperate to escape while they had the chance.

"He's not dead, you only clipped him." Sam said croakily as they left the torture table behind, entering into the rising sun of the ghost town.

"Good. I can kill the douchebag later." Dean said, his eyes growing in alarm as he saw what was in Walt's truck.

Gasoline. And a lot of it. Suddenly, it all made sense. They would have tortured them today, then had themselves a nice bonfire, with roasted Winchester the speciality.

"Those sick..." Dean finished with the word he knew Sam hated, and despite the pain his baby brother was in, he still received a very disapproving look from him.

They continued to hobble away, hoping they could find a cave for them to shelter in, and then finish the two hunters, or at least immobilise them. Sadly, the town was rather a long way from the slopes, and there was very little cover. It was also a hell of a longer walk when the two of them were injured. Dean was forcing Sam to move as quick as he could, but it was clear from his ashen expression that Sam couldn't last much longer without a break, and they didn't have long before Walt and Roy recovered.

"The truck?" Dean asked worriedly, and Sam nodded weakly.

They hobbled towards it, and Dean threw open the door, sticking his brother in the passenger side, and he quickly limped around the front of the truck and climbed in, fiery pain lancing up his leg as he did so. He started the ignition, and with a clank, the truck came to life.

"Dean, one shot from them, and we'll be barbecued." Sam said worriedly, his eyes closed against the pain he was in.

"Never mind Sammy." Dean assured him, and put his foot down, his leg protesting in pain as he did so.

The truck trundled forward, picking up speed as it made way away from the building they had been kept in. They were headed slowly towards the slope where Dean had climbed, when Sam, head rolling to try and distract himself from the pain, looked in the wing mirror, and saw Walt.

His face was covered in blood, his destroyed eye hanging from its socket, the shard still in it, his face a vicious expression of rage and hatred. There was blood trickling down his leg, but that didn't bother Walt. The truck was only beginning to get faster, and Sam knew instinctively that they were in severe trouble as he raised his rifle.

"Dean!" he cried, and Dean reacted immediately, sending the truck to the right, hoping to use the other buildings as cover.

The rifle emitted a bang, and suddenly, the truck began to spin around in a circle, the back tyre blown out through Walt's bad shot. Dean swore as he tried to get the truck under control, but it was too late, the truck was out of control, and heading towards the edge of the cliff, gaining speed as it found no traction on the soft sand.

"Dean!" Sam wailed as the truck spun towards a messy end.

"Hang on Sammy!" Dean cried, as the truck spun ever closer to the edge.

And then there was another bang. Just as the truck reached the edge of the cliff, and the truck suddenly felt weightless as it plummeted off the edge of the cliff, bound for the water below, picking up speed as it hurtled downwards, gravity aiding its fall. The tanks of gasoline flew into the air as it fell, and the two Winchesters looked at each other, gave each other nods, not needing to say anything as they descended towards the water. Sam quivered and Dean, uncharacteristically, reached across and clasped his hand.

And above them, a gasoline tank was ruptured by another furious bullet from Walt. There was an almighty explosion that lit up the entire area, a loud splash, and the world went quiet.

XX

Walt swore bitterly as he watched the flames from the explosion recede. The blasted Winchesters had destroyed his truck. At least now, at long last, they were now dead, and this time they wouldn't be coming back. If they hadn't been dead when the truck had hit the water, they'd have been immolated in the explosion.

They deserved no less. Apocalypse, lost hunters, Leviathans...none of them compared to what Sam had done to him. He had lost his eye because of him. And now the demonic little bastard would be burning in hell.

Roy would live, Dean hadn't driven the shard in far enough to kill him. But, it was a good thing everyone they cared about was dead. Or else Walt would have killed them too for what they had done to him. Him. The Winchesters had thought to get the better of him.

More fool they. No more would they mess up the world, or worse, make a fool of him. They were gone, for good.

And now, he would be credited as the best hunter in the world. Smiling grimly, he went to pick up Roy.

XX

Far below, flames licked the surface of the disturbed lake. A truck was bobbing up and down, full of water, and rocks had plunged into the water, creating a thick foam. But on the shore, a beaten and bloodied body rested. Dean slowly opened his eyes, immediately regretting it as the light from the fires burned them. Cursing, he pushed himself up, his body alive with pain, and looked at the lake, hearing the sirens as they approached. He had to get out of here.

But then, he noticed something. Something that made his heart stop as he did so. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart started pumping in alarm. He quickly scanned the beach he had drifted on to, seeing no signs of his baby brother. All encompassing fear gripped him. Surely they couldn't have just survived torture, a plunge of a cliff, an explosion, an avalanche and a crash into the water, only to lose Sam now.

There was no sign of Sam anywhere.

His brother wasn't there. His brother was gone. Dean felt a sickly taste in the back of his throat, but whether it was vomit or choked back tears, he didn't know. Tears began to stream down his face as he realised what he was seeing, what had happened, what he had lost.

Sam was gone.

Hello again!

For those of you who were looking for me to update yesterday, I'm sorry. I was out weeding my aunts garden all day (the little shits spread like the plague), my legs are now killing me, and on a Wednesday I visit my other aunts for a much needed cup of tea, though I did start this chapter yesterday I ran out of time to finish it (and I was getting moaned at to turn the light off).

However, here I am with the latest chapter.

So, we have addressed the amulet problem and all is well again between the boys (or is it?), and hence Sammy's not quite so brilliant plan was hatched. But, Walt and Roy did suffer for what they've done, even though it was a harrowing escape from the two villains. Looks like Dean is lucky, but where is Sam? Is he alive? Is he alright?

All will be revealed in the last and final chapter. And I already know exactly what's happening in the next story too. All I will say is season 4 and season 7 both influence the next tale.

All being well this will be finished tomorrow, but as always, you know the drill, until then, please read and review!