Chapter 5: The Ghost of Christmas Future
Sam shot up in bed with a gasp, the air in the room feeling eerily heavy. Within a few seconds Dean followed his brother, and the two turned toward each other trying to meet one another's eyes, but found they couldn't even see each other. Not even their outlines could be seen in the velvety, black darkness that seemed to cloak their room. The only light that could be seen were the vibrant, red numbers of the digital clock reading 11:00. It was still Christmas Eve, and they hadn't even been asleep all that long, had they? An hour maybe. Sam felt a nervous chill run down his spine and he shivered, running a shaking hand through his hair, down his neck and hugged himself. The brothers both slowly stood up from their beds, hands reaching out to find and grasp on to each other.
"Dean, I can't see a thing in here," Sam spoke in barely above a whisper. "Where the hell are you?"
"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean's raspy voice responded through the thick layer of darkness. There wasn't even a hint of moonlight coming through the windows to even cast a shadow off of the wall. Sam's hand brushed up against the soft sleeve of Dean's shirt and he grabbed it in his hand, grasping long fingers around the cotton. "There you are," the relief evident in Dean's tone as he too grabbed ahold of Sam's shirt. "Stay next to me," he ordered softly, protective instincts coming out of nowhere.
Sam couldn't decide if he wanted to squeeze his brother's arm in gratitude or roll his eyes and laugh. Instead, he focused on the now. "So you feel it too?" Sam questioned his older brother in barely above a whisper, eyes darting around the blackness and seeing nothing. "I mean it feels-," but Sam didn't get to finish what he was saying. A soft sigh came from in front of him and Dean, and his whole body stiffened.
"There's nothing to be afraid of in here, boys," came a quiet, feminine voice, and Dean felt like his heart was going to lodge it's way into his throat. Sam's pounded erratically against his ribcage. It couldn't be...could it? Feeling oddly safe, the brothers let go of each other and turned toward the direction the voice had come from. A softened, dim light surrounded the source of the voice and a woman stood there. She lowered the hood of a dark cloak she was wearing slowly, her back turned toward the boys, and a cascade of wavy, blonde hair fell down her back. She turned to face the boys, eyes brilliantly blue against the darkness that seemed to envelope them and gave a tender smile.
"My beautiful sons." She moved forward, slowly, almost seemingly gliding as she brought both of her hands up to cup their faces in a loving, but cool touch as if she'd spent the day out in the cold winter with no gloves on her hands. Both boys flinched ever so slightly and surprised that their mother's touch was so chilly compared to Jess and John's who's had been warm and inviting, but they paid it no mind. This was their mother after all. Sam looked downward, averting his eyes from Mary's and biting his lower lip while Dean's eyes fluttered closed at their mother's touch. "Look how you've grown," Mary gushed softly, her fingers tenderly rubbing against their cheeks, rough from a day or two's worth of not shaving. "Why won't you look at me?" she questioned her sons softly, tilting her head with a confused expression on her face. "Sam, Dean. Open your eyes. Please, let me see you."
Dean did as his mother asked and opened his grassy green eyes, staring down at his mother with a mixture of pain and confusion. "I-I thought that...the ghost of Christmas future was supposed to be a...scary...uhhh r-reaper-lookin' dude?" the elder Winchester tried to joke, but found his voice was ridden with tremors. Typically in a case like this, Sam would smack Dean on the back of the head or arm or something, but the youngest Winchester still had his head turned away, lowered, and Dean realized that his younger brother's eyes were closed tightly shut. He was so near him that he could feel Sam's identical shaking that Dean had been trying to hide. He longed to reach out and place a calming hand on his little brother's shoulder, to squeeze it in reassurance, but being in Mary Winchester's presence had him rooted to the spot. Frozen. He couldn't move. All he could do was just stare at the beauty that was his mother, but a sadness seemed to encompass her and was easily seen on her face. Despite that, she smiled lightly and turned loving eyes up toward her youngest boy.
"Sam, don't hide your face from me," her motherly tones broke out gently. "Look at your mother. I want to see you."
"Why, Mom? Why would you want to see me? Why would you even want to look at me?" Sam's whispering voice tremulous, his eyes open now, but still not looking at Mary. Anywhere but Mary. They were focused heavily on the curtain hanging against the window, squinting as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen and something he'd typically study in a book or on his laptop. Sam barked out an unamused laugh, his shoulders slumping. "I'm a poor excuse and disgrace for a son. A son who made all the wrong decisions all of his life. A son who a mother should be disappointed in. A son who isn't hu-," but Sam was cut off as Mary firmly grasped his chin and turned his face toward her own.
She placed a slender finger on Sam's lips to silence him, and the youngest Winchester found himself obeying, his hazel eyes widening in surprise. He met his mother's brilliant blue orbs, and for the third time tonight, Sam felt like he just wanted to collapse right there on the floor. His legs felt like jello underneath him and it was at that moment that Sam could feel Dean's hand grasp ahold of his shoulder and squeeze it tight, almost as if Dean was pouring his own strength into his little brother. Sam's eyes stung and misted over as he found himself caught in Mary's gaze. He blinked rapidly against the stinging sensation. God, he hated emotions. Especially every since he'd gotten his soul back. They seemed to like to pop up at the most inconvenient times, or at least it felt that way.
"Shhh, that's enough now, Sam. You're my son. You both are my sons," she responded warmly, still keeping her hands cupped on her boys' faces. Mary brought her hand up to run it through Sam's hair in comfort. She repeated the same for Dean. "I'm going to take you boys on one more journey tonight. I've been watching you both for awhile now. I know what's going on in your minds. Dean, I know you're exhausted, honey. I know you feel like you constantly fight, and you try so hard for absolutely nothing. I know that you want to protect Sam after everything, and you feel like you can't. Or that you feel completely helpless at times. I know you watch Sam like a hawk. To make sure nothing ever hurts him, or nothing could ever steal his soul or rip his soul away from him again. I know deep down you're terrified he'll revert back to how he was when he had no soul. I do, Dean. I know how scared you are, I really do."
Mary sighed, a slow sad sigh before her eyes, that were filling with tears, slid back over to meet her youngest's. "Sam, I know you feel like you're a living, walking, talking, disgrace to the world. I know the intense remorse that you feel for all the things that you did when you had no soul. I know that you remember you went to Hell, Sam. I know of the memories that have seeped through. I know that you feel like you still continue to deserve it and twice over. I know that you lock yourself away in the bathroom at night after Dean's asleep just so you can cry because there is nothing else you can do, or you drink until you fall asleep, but it still doesn't make you feel any better. I know of the times you've taken a loaded gun with you on your walks and looked at it and contemplated why you're even here when you shouldn't be to begin with, and that maybe you should just put yourself back where you belong. Your words, Sam. Not mine. I understand. I honestly do."
The hand on his shoulder was squeezing him tighter, actually causing it to hurt a bit. Only this time it wasn't a reassuring, comforting squeeze. Dean was not happy. Then the weight of Dean's hand was gone, and for some odd reason it made the youngest Winchester feel strangely empty. Sam flinched at his mother's words, lowering his head in shame, his cheeks growing hot, and he ignored the sharp stare he could feel burning into the side of his skull from his brother. Did he not learn anything from Jess and Dad's visits? He knew Dean was pissed at him. Sam knew he was probably ready to just grab him by the shoulders, shake the hell out of him and ask him that, ask him what the hell he was thinking. This is why Sam would've rather Dean didn't know that bit of information, but apparently their mother thought differently. Sam wanted to get angry, but he found that he couldn't even do that. It was either he didn't have the energy to get angry, or he just couldn't get angry at their mother. But everything that Mary had said was true. Not that he could actually help from it.
Sam had gone well over a year and a half of having no feelings or emotions. Almost two months ago he suddenly just had them jam-packed right back into him, and they slammed him in every single direction possible. Sometimes it was hard to remember how to control them. He'd find himself getting angry at the drop of a hat over the most ridiculous things or dreadfully sad, and it was hard to hide them like he used to before any of this had happened to him. He'd always been an emotional person, there was no doubt about that, but he'd been a master at masking his pain or his anger, courtesy of Dean Winchester. Of course back then when they surfaced that always gave Dean a chance to poke fun or tease him or call him a gigantic girl. His older brother hadn't done that to him as heavily since he'd gotten his soul back, which surprised Sam to say the least. Though now he knew, Dean could call him that as well as chide him for turning into an alcoholic and scold him, or rather yell at him until he was blue in the face, about the contemplation of suicide. He knew Dean wasn't going to take this bit of information lightly. Sam sighed uncomfortably, doing everything he could not to meet his brother's eyes.
"I know how both of you avoid looking at each other. How you both avoid talking to one another unless you're on a hunt or if it's of absolute necessity that you two speak," Mary pointed out. "I know you can't look into Sam's eyes without worrying that you're going to see that cold, emotionless expression, Dean. I know that you can't look into Dean's eyes without feeling extremely guilty because of the vampire and Bobby incident, Sam."
Sam snorted and shook his head. "Incident?" he asked incredulously. "That was more than an incident, Mom. It was all my fault that I lost Dean his family," Sam found himself spilling, not able to control himself. "I almost KILLED what was left of OUR family!"
"And I've tried to tell you it wasn't your fault, Sammy," Dean sighed with exasperation, scrubbing a hand over his roughened face. Sam made to open his mouth, but Mary closed her eyes and shook her head.
"Listen, this isn't the time or place for any of this," Mary cut in, her voice a bit more firm. "I know that both of you are considering giving up. You especially, Sam. I'm going to take you into the future. I want you to see what's going to happen should you two make the decisions you're considering making. It's enough to break any mother's heart."
Sam and Dean couldn't look at each other, as usual, which had Dean doing his best to make another Christmas Carol snark. "So are we going to the cemetery to see where we're planted or something?"
Mary just sighed and placed her hands on her boys' foreheads and they disappeared in a quick flash of light. It was so rapid and bright that it was almost as if they were having their picture taken. They reappeared somewhere unfamiliar. It was nighttime and loud music was coming from somewhere. Mary pointed out a finger silently as both boys turned and saw a rather shabby-looking, old tavern that almost looked as if you poked it with a stick it'd crumble at your feet. The loud music seemed to be coming from there, and the parking lot was filled with cars. Sam's eyes scanned the area before coming to rest on something he never dared dream he'd see. The younger Winchester tapped his older brother on the shoulder. "Uhhh...Dean?" he said softly.
"What?" Dean snapped as he whirled around before his eyes fell in a horrendous sight. It was the Impala, and she was looking more than a little worse for wear. The black paint job on her was no longer shining. In fact, it had taken on an almost ashy color. The bottom of the car around the tires and doors was beginning to rust. The passenger sideview mirror had been busted out and the back window on the driver's side of the four-door, once beautiful classic had a black tarp tacked to it, also suggesting that the back window had been busted. "Oh my...oh my GOD!" breathed Dean as he rushed over to the car. "Oh, Baby what have they DONE to you!" the elder Winchester exclaimed sounding distraught. Dean reached his hands out to pamper his car, but they went straight through the vehicle. "Goddammit! I forgot. We can't touch anything, can we?" he growled, but his mother didn't speak. Her face was turned straight toward the tavern staring intently and she never budged.
Sam grabbed ahold of Dean's arm and pulled him back near where their mother stood and waited. Within moments the entrance door to the bar flung open and the music, accompanied by a range of loud voices, flooded the night. A man, obviously very drunk, stumbled out of the building, a bottle of Jack sloshing around in one hand, and his other arm was occupied by a woman. She had curly, dark hair which some had been pulled up to the top of her head and was looking rather scantily-clad in a short, black mini skirt, top revealing nearly everything she carried on her chest and abdomen and high-heeled boots on her feet. The man tossed back a deep swig of the bottle of Jack and inclined his face drunkenly toward the woman's with a goofy grin.
The light caught it just in time and Sam gasped, feeling his stomach turn. It was Dean, and he was looking very rough around the edges. It appeared he hadn't shaved in days, his jeans and coat were completely worn and the woman under his arm was definitely not a Dean type. Not only that, but his future self seemed to be nowhere in sight, and given the sight and shape that the Impala was in, he most likely wasn't. Sam felt his heart lurch in his chest as the bar door flung open once more. Out traipsed three guys around the same size as Dean, The one in the middle was slightly bigger in mass, with light brown hair. The other two seemed to follow him, as though he were the leader of their little pack. The one on the right had black hair and was about an inch or two taller than Dean. The one on the left was blond with a thin, lanky build. The three men followed him out looking fierce, looking ready for a fight. The younger Winchester tried to ignore the erratic beating of his heart as it pounded against his ribcage like a prisoner pounding on bars begging to be let free.
"Go on and run, baby," Dean of the future slurred to the woman as he gave her a slight push. "I'll handle these jackasses." The woman screamed and took off at a run, her heels clacking against the pavement in the distance as the men came closer, looming over Dean now who was taking another huge drink of the Jack in his hands, finishing off the bottle. He grunted as he swallowed the burning liquid and threw the bottle, the sound of it breaking echoing somewhere nearby. "So, you sons of bitches tried to start something with me in the bar, and now you're following me out here huh? Well take your best shot assholes, because I'm the best goddamn hunter on the planet." The three men exchanged glances before they started laughing as Dean brandished a small knife from his jeans, waving it drunkenly at the three . "What're you bastards laughin' at huh?"
"Ohhh, Dean Winchester. Ever the drunken idiot excuse for a hunter. Just like your daddy," the brown-haired, middle one taunted as he approached the inebriated Winchester and grabbed his wrist so quickly that Dean didn't have time to react and squeezed, causing Dean to grunt from the pain and drop the knife. The man's eyes flashed black before a sinister grin crossed his face and the other two followed him, their eyes turning black as well. The middle demon gave Dean a heavy, hard shove, sending the elder Winchester stumbling backward right into the dumpster at the side of the tavern. Sam gasped, running both of his hands through his hair, hazel orbs widened as he watched the demons attack his brother. Where the hell am I! Why am I not helping Dean! Dean just stood back completely shell-shocked at the scene he was witnessing, not able to take his eyes off of his future self.
"What's wrong, Winchester? Can't fight back? Don't have your back up? Poor little Sammy not a hunter anymore, is he?" the demon chided as the other two advanced on Dean. The black-haired one approached him, slamming him down to the ground, while the blond one on the left straddled him, and grabbed him by the throat.
"You-wanna...kill me?" Dean managed to croak out as the demon squeezed. "Get...in line, dick. A lot of you evil sons of bitches have wanted to get your hands on this sweet piece of ass since day one. None of you have managed to do it yet." Dean brought his hands up, desperately clawing at the demon's large hand clasped around his throat.
"Oh no, we're not gonna kill you. Boss doesn't want us doing that. We're just gonna play with you a little bit," the blond demon responded dangerously, picking Dean up off of the ground, still by his throat, and holding the hunter up to his face. "So, are you ready to have some fun yet?" the demon sneered before throwing Dean across the parking lot. Dean landed hard and rolled onto his back, hands clamping around his throat, massaging his bruised windpipe and coughing before pushing himself up on his hands and knees, still coughing. The three demons were on him before Dean even got a chance to stand up. The blond one lifted a foot and kicked Dean repeatedly in the stomach, while the black haired one got down in front of him, grabbed Dean by his hair and pulled his face up to meet his own, his black eyes bearing down into Dean's own green ones.
"This is our playground. This is how we have fun," he told the hunter before punching Dean across the face repeatedly. One hit after another laying into his cheekbones, shattering them beneath bloodied knuckles. "Are we having fun yet?" Dean just grunted in response as the blood oozed from his nose and split lips, his face terribly swollen from the impact of the black-haired demon's fists.
As soon as Dean was down and all three demons were on him, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch his brother being beaten so defeatedly to a bloody pulp, and what's more was Sam didn't understand why he wasn't there and why he wasn't helping his older brother. It wasn't like Dean to just lay there and give up in a fight. Normally his older brother would be fighting back, but not this time, and Sam didn't understand why.
"NO! DEAN!" he dove for his brother and tried to grab the future Dean and pull him out of harm's way, but his arms went right through him. Right through Dean, right through the demons as if he were grabbing nothing but air, and Sam felt the despair fill him to the brim and weigh heavily, bowing his shoulders. There was nothing he could do now to save his brother. Sam whirled around as he faced his mother and Dean of now who could do nothing but just stare incredulously at what was in front of him.
"WHY WON'T YOU STOP THIS! WHY WON'T YOU HELP HIM! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM, MOM! PLEASE!" Sam exploded, desperation resounding in his voice. He ran to his mother and grabbed her by the shoulders. "MAKE THIS STOP! PLEASE, MOM! PLEASE! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM! WHERE AM I, MOM! I NEED TO HELP HIM! PLEASE!" Sam pleaded, but Mary just gazed sadly at her son as she raised her hands to rest gently on Sam's wrists. Sam stared precariously into his mother's eyes. "Please," his voice cracked. "Don't let Dean die, Mom."
His hazel eyes shone with tears as Mary lowered her head and shook it sadly. She wordlessly pointed back toward the scene and Sam looked over his shoulder, blinking the salty water away so he could see properly. He reluctantly let go of his mother's shoulders, turning back toward the scene playing out in front of them. There was a darkened outline of another man slowly, almost arrogantly walking toward them. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. "No...," Sam's choked voice stated in barely above a whisper. "This...this can't be..." The man stopped just a few feet away from Dean and the group of demons, slowly raising a hand, and the demons stopped their assualt. They rose to their feet and began backing away.
"That'll be enough," the figure spoke and as he moved closer, the light from the streetlamps in the parking lot shone off of the man. A heavy gasp from Dean resounded as Sam fell back a couple of steps. Sam looked at his older brother, who was now staring at him in disbelief, his mouth slightly open.
"No...no, I swore I'd never...it's not, Mom. Please. Tell me that I'm not...," Sam stumbled over words as he turned back to his mother.
Mary just quietly shook her head, and she pointed back toward the figure and Dean. Sam didn't understand why their mother wouldn't answer him, but he obeyed and turned to watch his future.
"Well, it looks like we ended up back to where I told you we would. Well, maybe not in the exact location, but close enough," Lucifer, wearing Sam's skin spoke in Sam's voice, sounding delightfully amused. "I'm sorry, Dean. I did warn you. You're the one that messed up." Lucifer sighed mockingly as he stepped closer to Dean, showing completely in the streetlight now. He was wearing a suit, similar to the one Dean had saw him wearing when Zachariah had decided to thrust his ass five years into the future. Only this time, he was dressed in all black. The jacket, the shirt underneath, the pants, the shoes. All black. Lucifer had Sam's hair tucked comfortably behind his ears, and Lucifer carried that grin of his that Dean had hated seeing on Sam's face.
Dean of the future rolled over on his side, clutching his stomach, coughing up blood onto the pavement. "Awwww, tsk tsk tsk, look at this scene. So sadly pathetic. I guess that's what you get for picking a fight with demons, Dean," Lucifer taunted as he crouched down to the man in front of him. " You know, if only you had tried to fight a little harder, to convince your brother a little more that he wasn't what he thought he was then maybe we wouldn't be here right now. Poor Sam. I actually feel for him because of everything he's been through, everything he's done. My heart truly breaks for him, but he's long gone now, and it's all your fault Dean. You drove him away, and now he's all mine again and well, I'm back," the Devil chortled.
"Now, I can finish what I had started before you two ruined it for me. It's kind of ironic isn't it? Sammy was so determined to stop me, and he did. For a little while. Threw me back down in the cage, but of course I was able to have a little fun with his soul before all was said and done. And then I come back, and he willingly says yes because his soul is so messed up, and you didn't bother helping him try to fix it. I guess I did the right thing?" he chuckled his arrogant chuckle again, and Sam found himself feeling like he was going to be sick. He couldn't stand seeing himself like this, hearing himself like this. This wasn't him. And he certainly wasn't going to hurt his brother in such a manner either. "Well, this has been fun, Dean, but for you it's over. I told you once before Dean, I win. So, I win," Lucifer shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and walked away from the beaten, broken, bloodied man on the pavement.
"No...Dean," Sam managed to croak before there was another flash of 'camera light' and the boys found themselves standing in a wet, dark night. There were no stars or moon in the sky. It had the feeling as though it had just rained, and a heavy fog had settled around the brothers.
"M-mom?" Dean finally spoke up after the horrific scene that had just played out in front of him. He seemed to have found his voice again, but surprisingly enough, he was calm. "Where are we?" his voice sounded hoarse and maybe even somewhat scared, but still calm. Mary didn't speak a word, there was just a soft sigh that drifted from her and she looked up at her two sons, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Mary's head lowered as she didn't speak and pointed once more toward where a light now shone. It was showing over what looked like a gravestone. They were in a cemetery. Sam grabbed ahold of his older brother's shirt sleeve, almost as if he were trying to draw strength from Dean. "It's okay, it's okay Sammy. It's okay," Dean breathed out slowly as he grabbed ahold of his younger brother's arm, and the two began moving slowly toward the gravestone.
"No...nononono," Sam choked out, losing all ability to stand and dropping to his knees in front of the headstone. "No, Dean," his voice trembled as his large hands slowly raised to clutch onto the sides of the grave. The words engraved into the sepia-toned rock read:
Dean Winchester
January 24, 1979- December 24, 2011
Beloved Older Brother and son. Rest in Peace
"Oh god...I, god, no. Please tell me, that I didn't, that it wasn't...no, Dean. Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!" Sam's forehead came to rest against the gravestone, his entire body shook uncontrollably. "No!" His voice came out choked and mumbling. Long bits of hair had fallen into his eyes, so his face couldn't be seen.
"Sam! Sammy! It's okay, it's okay! I'm here! I'm right here!" Dean shoved back his own shock from the prior events and pulled Sam away from the gravestone, down on his knees now with his brother and he grabbed ahold of Sam's large shoulders, shaking him roughly. It wasn't his own tombstone that had Dean in the frame of mind he was in. His own death didn't particularly shock him anymore, but the earlier chain of events had him shaken. Dean pulled himself together for his little brother's sake.
"Sammy! Look at me! I'm right here, it's okay. You didn't do anything." Dean worked at trying to pull his younger brother out of whatever deep, dark pit he'd allowed himself to fall into at this very moment, tried to pull him back to reality. "Sammy, please! Look at me! I'm here! I'm not dead, Sam!" When his brother wouldn't respond, Dean glared up at his mother, not understanding why she of all people had to be the one to show them something like this. Couldn't Cas have sent a goddamn demon to the dirty work?
"Mom. Tell him. Please tell Sam that it's not his fault. TELL HIM!" He roared before turning back to his brother and holding him by his cheeks now slick with tears and pulling his face up to meet his own. "Sammy, C'mon now, Sam." But the younger Winchester didn't respond. He let out a heavy, uneven breath, before letting his head drop into his older brother's shoulder. "MOM!" Dean found himself yelling again not able to control himself. "TELL HIM IT'S NOT HIS FAULT! YOU TELL HIM, MOM!"
Mary sighed softly, her breath shaky. "I'm sorry, Dean. Raphael managed a way to pull Lucifer from his cage again and back on earth. He's back, he's wearing Sam. He's back and he's wreaking havoc all over the world. Sam willingly said yes to Lucifer, hoping that he'd tuck the memories away forever," Mary began solemnly. "Sam never bothered to try and fight him, to try and resurface because he just didn't care anymore. He didn't want to suffer anymore. He'd lost you, Dean. He was tired of the memories of Hell, he was tired of the memories of when he was soulless," Mary slowly approached her sons, with her head bowed. "He had nobody. Bobby gave him up, Dean, in Sam's eyes, you gave up on him. There was nobody left. He was constantly on the run. Monsters, demons, even hunters that wanted revenge on a Winchester was always after him. He could never stay in one place for too long. He tried. He tried finding a normal job, working, meeting people, but it never lasted long. He even met a girl, but a demon killed her, and it sent him on the run again, until he felt as if he were nothing but a fugitive." Mary brought a hand out to stroke it through Sam's thick locks of hair.
"He had nobody, so he gave up because he just couldn't handle it anymore. Sam and Raphael struck a deal, and he was able to pull Lucifer back out. He told Lucifer that if he could just put him into an everlasting sleep in his own mind so that he'd never have to see or feel or run ever again, that he could have him so he would never have to pain like that again. He made Lucifer promise not to hurt you, and Lucifer kept his promise, but it was also a twisted one as Lucifer did let demons hurt you. Lucifer himself didn't lay a hand on you, but his demons did. So yes, Dean, and I'm so sorry," Mary's voice trembled.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy, but you did. That is Lucifer, and he's riding around in your very own skin yet again, only this time he's getting what he wants." Her fingers threaded themselves through Sam's hair, stroking it in a comforting manner, but the younger Winchester didn't raise his head to look at his mother. He stayed buried in his brother's shoulder while Dean used one hand to steady himself on the ground from falling and the other clasped around the back of Sam's neck.
Dean looked up at her, his eyebrows knitting together, eyes full of desperation. "Mom...?"
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry, Sam," Mary apologized, a shiny tear running down her soft, pink cheek. "I love you boys both so very much, and I hate to be the one who had to show you the future. If you two make the decisions that you're on the brink of making, then this could very well be your future. I'm so sorry," Mary left out a soft sob before wrapping her arms around both of her sons. She kissed Sam on top of his head and kissed Dean's forehead gently before standing up and stepping back. "Please think about your choices and the outcome of them if you don't want this to happen." Sam finally, slowly raised his head as he and Dean watched their mother step back away from them. The sad expression plastered to her face was the last they saw of Mary Winchester as she disappeared, leaving the boys cold and alone in the middle of the graveyard.