Chapter 24: Dean's Choice

Life's too short to hesitate. Someone told me that once. I can't remember who, though. My life seems like one big blur to me now. Sometimes life stops for a few brief moments. Don't look for that pause. It's never anything good. It means that everything is coming to a close, building up to the climax. It's the calm before the storm.

"Choose!" Clara demanded, "Father or brother? Who dies?"

Dean had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Not even when Sammy had been bleeding in his arms had he been this scared. Now it wasn't just his brother who was in danger, it was his father, too.

Choose? How the hell was he expected to choose? This couldn't be right. Couldn't be fair… He just couldn't do it. No one should ever ask this choice of anyone.

Dean recalled his father's words to him in the hospital. He had said something about how, given the choice, Dean would choose Sam over John. John had said that he would choose Sam over Dean.

But that wasn't true. Dean couldn't pick. He was in agony right now just thinking about what he had to do.

"Dean?" Clara's voice broke into his thoughts, "Dean, time's running out. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I'll kill them both if you don't choose."

"No, wait!" Dean cried, "Just give me a minute, dammit."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. He was too torn. He couldn't do this. And because of his indecision, he was failing them both. But than an idea came to him and he knew what he had to do.

He looked at the situation again. Clara by the well, both guns pointed at Sam and his dad. The well. No matter what, someone was going in that well. Dean knew that was inevitable. He also knew that the decision was his to make. The keys to Life and Death were in his hands.

This may or may not work, he thought, but I have to do it. It's risky, but I can't see another way around it. I wish that this choice hadn't have been mine to make, that it had been yours, Dad, because you know what you want. You always have. You never would have had to hesitate.

John Winchester could see the struggle on his elder son's face and knew the pain he was in. He would have done anything in the world to be able to take that pain from his first born and bare it on his own shoulders. But this was Dean's test.
Even though he knew that, he still couldn't help but thinking:

Lord, why did it have to be Dean? I know that he can't do this; he lets his feelings get in the way of his judgment too often. He tries so hard to seem strong, but those are just walls that he's put up. His weakness is that he tries to save everybody and he can't.

But then John saw a strange calm steal into his older son's hazel eyes. It was a strength, a fire, that John hadn't seen before. Sam noticed it, too. He also noticed a new resolution on Dean's face. This was not a man haunted by indecision or even tormented by his choice. This was a man determined to succeed and to do what was right. It never ceased to amaze Sam how Dean carried his sense of justice hidden, but at certain times it became a blaze. It was a conflagration in his manner, his body, his eyes. And right now it was radiating from him like a fierce flame.

"Time's up," Clara declared.

"No," Dean said, "I've decided."

"Well, then?" she asked, "Who dies?"

A sardonic smile crept across Dean's face.

"You."

Before Clara could react to Dean's statement, he had rushed forward towards her. It was a gamble, he knew. She could easily fire both guns at Sam and John, but he was hoping he could surprise her before she could squeeze off any shots.

Sam and John both saw in an instant what the plan was and leapt out of range of the two pistols just as they were fired. Sam heard the tree behind him explode as the bullet hit, sending wood chips into the air.

John hissed in pain as the bullet grazed his arm and he stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance.

"Dad!" Sam cried.

The well was directly behind the woman. All Dean had to do was catch her off guard and give her a good push and she would tumble straight in. Dean had heard Sam's cry and instantly wondered if he had risked too much. But he couldn't think of that now. It was too late to change the course of things.

John held his bleeding arm, steadying himself. In one horrifying moment John saw that there was one factor that Dean had not taken into account… or had he?

The gun went off once, then again as Dean staggered into the woman.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, running forward.

Dean and Clara fell against the wall of the well. Clara laughed bitterly as they struggled for control of the gun.

"You fool!" she hissed, "You can't get the best of me! I can read your thoughts, remember?"

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked, "Then tell me what I'm going to do next."

"Die!"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean gasped, "but I'm taking you to Hell with me."

Clara used all her strength to push Dean over the edge of the well. Desperately, he grabbed at her arm to keep from falling over. As a result of the struggle, they both lost their balance and together tumbled into the well.

"No!" Sam screamed miserably, trying to catch something so he could pull Dean back up, but it was too late.

John ran forward, stopping by Sam's side. With frantic eyes he looked down into the well, but could see nothing in the darkness.

"Dean! Dean!!"

The rain began to fall harder around them.

Dean and Clara hit the water hard as they fell together through the well shaft. Dean's breath was driven from his body as he met with the icy innards of the gateway. There was a moment of confusion as he struggled underwater to regain the surface, but he only seemed to spiral deeper and deeper. His lungs burned for air when there was none to be found and his limbs tried to find firm leverage in the spinning darkness, but there was nothing to grasp. He could feel the waters in the well churning around him and the coldness was like daggers in his body.

His first concern was untangling himself from Clara before she did him any more damage. He didn't know how badly he was hurt, but he had felt at least one of her bullets hit him when he had rushed her.

There was no light and the darkness seemed to permeate even his thoughts and hopes at the moment. The spirits. They would drag him down if he couldn't get out. Or would they take him regardless? He had already braved the depths of the well once and proven himself by pulling Emily's soul free. But would he be so lucky the second time? He had taken the risk in order to save his family and he was willing to face the consequences, but he would do whatever it took to avoid the watery death that the gateway offered.

He swam as hard as he could, but despite his efforts, he knew that he was getting no closer to the surface. On the contrary, it felt to him as if he was falling deeper and deeper. He opened his eyes and, even through the darkness, he saw a small light in front of him.

The light seemed to radiate a peace that beckoned to Dean. For a moment he thought of letting go and letting that peace overwhelm him, but a sudden voice in his head jolted him back.

DEAN!

That voice, he thought, so familiar. Jessica…?

The well around him began to fill with ghostly forms. Dean knew that they were the spirits trapped in the gateway. Fear shot through him. They had come for him. He was a powerful soul and, like last time, they would try to use him to blast open the portal.. He began to struggle again, but noticed something else. The spirits did not come to him menacingly. Instead, they gathered around another point in the well.

Dean watched in horror as the spirits latched onto the still struggling form of Mrs. Hoffkins. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as dead fingers dug into her flesh and held her so that she could not swim free.

Then that light seemed to surround him again, and he was liberated from the image of the dying woman.

Dean.

Jessica. You're alright. Thank God.

Always the hero, Dean. Never a thought to your own safety.

Sammy. And my father. Are they alright?

They need their hero. You have to go back to them. I'll help you get there…