Disclaimer: See previous chapters. Emily Dickison is my hero, so I borrow her poem.

A/N: I had this up earlier, but no one reviewed... and I really really liked this chapter, so I took it down, revamped it and now repost it very warily. I'd really like to know what y'all think. M'kay?

A/N2: Again, I'd like to thank everyone for their kind comments over the last few weeks. In case you wanted to know, no one ever brought guns to my school and my friend is dealing with her loss very well. She graduated last week and did it for her little brother. I couldn't be prouder. I just wanted to let you all know how much your nice words meant to me.

I HAD TO EDIT THIS. A FEW LINES WERE DELETED IN THE EDITING PROCESS. SORRY.

Chapter Five: Because I Could Not Stop For Death

"Because I could not stop for Death—he kindly stopped for me…" Emily Dickinson

It's funny because you've always compared Sam to Dad… and yet, as it turns out, you are the one repeating your father's mistakes.
The silence in the car is thick. The dried blood on his forehead is starting to itch, so Dean reaches up to scratch it, but there's a big bump and it hurts to touch so he leaves it alone.

"When we get to Bobby's I'll fix that for you." Sam whispers. His voice is higher than normal, and he's practically twitching with all the left-over adrenaline. He'd wanted to start hunting now, now, now… but then he'd noticed the sway in his older brother's step and decided a little R&R wouldn't be a bad thing.

"I'm fine." Dean's voice is low and raspy. Sam knows he's got to be exhausted. Dean probably hasn't slept or eaten properly since… well… in a while.

"Sure you are." Sam muses gently as they pull into Bobby's driveway. The older hunter and Ellen are all ready there, waiting. There's smoke coming out of the chimney and Sam hopes Bobby is cooking something.

Sam gets out of the car first and watches Dean stagger to the house. Three steps from the doorway he stops moving and goes limp. Sam is too far away to catch him and he lands hard on the cold ground.

A year. Twelve months. 365 days.

You don't know how many hours-minutes-seconds that comes down to, but you know it's just not enough.

A year isn't long enough to tell Sam you're sorry for making that deal.

Especially when you've never been good at lying to him.

"He's alright, just exhausted and dehydrated." Ellen explains. "Bobby had some Gatorade in his fridge and I made sure he downed the whole thing. A little sleep and some of Bobby's stew and he'll be back to normal."

"Thanks, Ellen." Sam whispers, taking a swig from his bear.

"Sam." Ellen says gently, sitting next to the young hunter. Bobby purposely drops a spoon on the floor, because he knows what Ellen is about to do and its not the woman's place… but she's never been one for manners anyway.

"Don't be too hard on him."

Sam looks at her, his eyes shining. "You've got a lot of nerve even talking about this." His voice is low.

"Put yourself in his position." She offers. "What would you have done?"

Sam stands up, slams his beer on the table and walks away. He throws a, "I'd have gotten more than a fucking year," over his shoulder and disappears into Dean's room.

But you know it was worth it.

Sam's alive. The Demon is dead and your father—the stubborn bastard—crawled his ass outta hell.

You all got to see twenty two years of hell finally pay off.

And pulling the trigger and seeing that yellow-eyed sonuvabitch die felt good. Felt damn good.

Sucks about leaving Sammy, though.

"Sorry about scaring you like that." Dean whispers when Sam comes in. "I guess I did need to rest some."

But Sam's not here to chat, that much is clear when he grabs Dean's shirt and nearly throws him out of bed and shoves him against the wall.

"How could you do something so damn stupid, Dean?" He's pissed now. Beyond angry. He'd stayed calm back at the graveyard, but now it was all hitting him like a sledgehammer.

A year was nothing. He'd blink and it'd be over and it'd be pay up time. What if they couldn't find a way to get out the deal? What then? How could Dean do this?

"Sam…"

"You shouldn't have done it." And just like that, Sam's breaking. His head falls forward on to Dean's shoulder. "You're such an idiot…"

"I know." Dean agrees, reaching up to rub Sam's back as his baby brother nearly collapses against him. "I know. But it was my only option, Sammy. I couldn't let you die… I'm pre-programmed or something. Looking out for you is all I know how to do."

Sam laughs then, bitterly and shakes his head. "Our lives are weird, man." He whispers and takes a step back to sit down on Dean's bed.

"Yeah." Dean agrees and sits down next to him.

"But I'm going to fix this. I'll get you out of it." Sam assures him, looking at his brother.

Dean smiles genuinely and nods.

"If anyone can do it, you can."

"I will. I promise."

You hope maybe he can forgive you someday. (Preferably sooner rather than later because you'd hate to die with him mad at you.)

You hope he'll forgive you when you don't let him save you. Even if it means blowing your own brains out. You won't let him renege your deal and drop dead again.

"Dean." Sam whispers. "There's something I need to tell you, about Mom."

Dean looks up at him, frowning, confusion all over his face.

"Before you found me, the Demon told me… showed me… something about the night Mom was killed…"

And you swear saving him will be the last thing you ever do.
End.

A/N3: So, the final line could be Sam or Dean. Take your pick.

A/N4: You'll probably see more oneshots about Dean's deal from me. It's like the whole evil!Sam scenario, just gets my creative mind pumping. All this angst. I cannot wait for next season, even though the spoilers I've been seeing about new possible series regulars aren't making me happy. Seriously, I need like a spoiler patch, like a nicotine patch. I gotta stop looking at them. I gotta.

A/N5: And sorry about any format errors, kept deleting parts when I went to edit it. It was weird.

Anyway, love you for reading.

I'm in a weirdly good mood today. Probably because it's the last day of school! Woo.

(love) Kena