Okay, next to the last chapter! You find out a lot in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Cindy.

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THE PREVIOUS EVENING

Sam lay on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the fireplace and the fire burning brightly within. He could hear Dean and Bobby moving about the cabin, stuffing the weapons bags with their needed supplies. They were going on a hunt. There was a vengeful spirit responsible for three deaths and they were intent on ending it's murderous spree. The location of the hunt was an hour away and they wanted to be there before darkness fell. That meant they needed to be on the road in five minutes. Dean kept throwing glances at Sam. He was nervous about leaving him alone, what with the way he had been acting since the meeting with Dr. Ameche. He had tried to convince Sam to come with them but Sam had refused.

"Hey Sam," Dean said, purposely walking into Sam's line of vision. "I'd really like you to come with us. How 'bout it kiddo?"

Sam merely shook his head then turned over on the sofa until his back was to Dean. Dean stood staring at his brother for a moment, his head falling to his chest. He felt like he was losing his brother and nothing he did or said seemed to help. Bobby stepped up beside Dean, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Dean, we gotta hit the road if we're going to be to the cemetery before dark."

Dean nodded then slowly turned from Sam and made his way to the door, shouldering the weapons bag as he opened the door. He sent one more look Sam's way, then slowly closed the door behind him. He walked down the path toward the Impala where Bobby waited. He opened the trunk and they deposited their bags inside. They got into the car and Dean started the engine, the familiar rumble bringing him no peace today. He took one more glance at the cabin, then pulled away.

"He'll be fine Dean. We'll be gone four hours, five tops," Bobby said, keeping his own concern out of his voice.

"Yeah, you're right I guess. He'll probably sleep the whole time anyway," Dean replied dejectedly.

Sam continued to lay on the sofa for half an hour after he heard the door close and the sound of the Impala driving away. He finally rolled over then sat up. He sat staring at the floor for several minutes before standing up and shuffling to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face, the temperature change causing his breath to catch in his throat. He stood up and glanced at his image in the mirror. Staring back at him was a too pale face with haunted eyes, dark circles beneath them. His cheeks were sunken in, a result of his dramatic weight loss.

Sam reached into the bathtub and started the water, putting the stopper in when the water turned hot. Sam pulled his sweatshirt and tee shirt over his head, dropping them to the floor. He looked in the oversized mirror again. His collarbones jutted from under his skin as did his ribs. He pushed his jeans and boxers down around his ankles, not needing to even unfasten them. He stepped out of the jeans and into the steaming tub of water. He sat down and slowly lay back, hissing slightly as the hot water washed over his chest and shoulders. He sat up a few minutes later and shut the faucet off, then lay back once more.

Sam closed his eyes, a myriad of thoughts racing through his tired mind. Dean had practically begged him to go on the hunt with he and Bobby. Sam had refused, knowing he would only be in the way. And worse, he would be a distraction for Dean, which could get Dean hurt, or worse, killed. Sam could not take that chance. He knew Dean would continue to try and draw him back into hunting, and with time, he would succeed. Sam couldn't let that happen. He would never convince Dean to let him go, and it scared him more than he had ever been scared before. If he stayed with Dean, he would lose his brother. Dean would die and it would be his fault, just like his mom, Dad and Jess were his fault.

Sam raised his right hand and covered his face as a sob escaped his slightly parted lips. He didn't want to leave Dean, but he couldn't remain with him. He had promised Dean he wouldn't leave him, but he knew he had to break that promise. Sam slowly slid down in the tub until his head and face were completely submerged. He held his breath as tiny air bubbles escaped between his lips and quickly rose to the surface of the water. Sam's lungs began to burn as the lack of oxygen took it's toll. When he could take it no longer he jerked up out of the water, gasping for air. Sam lay back again, closing his eyes.

Sam stayed in the bath until he realized that the water had cooled and he had begun to shiver. He rose from the tub and stepped out onto the cold floor. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He retrieved his clothes from the floor and exited the bathroom. The fire in the fireplace had burned out and the cabin had chilled considerably. Sam looked at the small clock on the mantel and realized he had been in the bathtub for over two hours.

Sam dropped his clothes next to the sofa and reached into his duffel bag for a clean change of clothes. If he was going to leave, he needed to do it soon in order to have a good headstart. Sam pulled on a clean pair of boxers and then a clean tee shirt. He sat on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees. He shook his head slowly realizing he couldn't leave. Dean would never stop looking for him and that in itself would be enough of a distraction to get his brother killed.

Sam angrily grabbed his duffel and started to shove his clean jeans inside. He then grabbed his sleep pants and pulled them from the bag. He flinched slightly when something solid hit the hardwood floor. Sam reached down with his right hand and picked up the fallen object. He turned it over in his hand. Sleeping pills. Dean had gotten him a prescription months ago when he had been unable to sleep more than an hour a night. He stared at the bottle as a knot formed in his stomach. He knew right then what he had to do. This was the only way to save Dean. To save himself. He would no longer be a burden to his brother and the yellow-eyed demon would no longer be after him to lead his dark army and thus would no longer be a danger to Dean.

Sam didn't want to do this. He didn't want to die, but he was so tired. The pain he carried daily cut deep into his soul. The guilt of so many deaths weighed on him so heavily it felt as though he would break any second. He didn't want to do this to Dean, but hoped that in time his brother would understand the sacrifice he was making was the right thing to do. Sam rose from the sofa and went to the kitchen sink. After some trouble, he was able to pop the cap off the pill bottle. He filled a glass with water then poured the contents of the bottle into his palm. A tear rolled down his cheek as he pushed the contents of his hand into his mouth. He washed the pills down with the water quickly before he had a chance to change his mind.

Sam took the pill bottle and threw it into the can under the sink, pulling garbage over the top of it to keep it hidden. He walked slowly to his bed and sank down on the edge. He thought of writing Dean a letter, but what could he say to ease his brother's pain? What could he write to convince Dean that he was better off without him? Dean would figure out in time that his life was easier without the constant worry of watching out for his little brother. It still didn't ease Sam's guilt at what Dean would face when he found him and realized what he had done. Sam knew how he would feel if the roles were reversed. Sam suddenly had an attack of panic. What had he done? How could he do this to Dean? Dean would find him and would be devastated.

Sam rushed to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in front of the toilet. He pushed his fingers down his throat and gagged, but was unable to bring anything up. He tried again and again but was not able to expel the pills. He sat back against the wall, his forehead falling to his knees. He sobbed uncontrollably until his throat was raw and his chest ached. After some time Sam rose on wobbly legs and struggled out of the bathroom. His head was foggy and his eyes heavy. He attempted to make it to the bed, but halfway there his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. With some effort, he was able to roll onto his back. He lay there as his world became darker and darker and everlasting sleep crept upon him.

"I'm so sorry Dean," he whispered as his eyes closed completely.

Sam lay there, still able to hear the night sounds around him. His sluggish mind was telling him to open his eyes and get up from the floor, but his body refused to obey. Darkness steadily filled his head and when it had almost completely consumed him, he felt a charge around him and the hairs on his arms stood on end. The darkness started to retreat somewhat and his senses slowly came back to him. He heard the door of the cabin open and slowly opened his eyes, looking over to his right and expecting to see Dean rushing towards him.

It wasn't Dean who stepped into the cabin. The man was taller than Sam by the looks of him. He had nearly white hair and pale eyes. His build was slender, but not skinny. He smiled softly down at Sam as he crossed the floor, stopping a few feet away. A soft light emanated from the man and Sam wondered if this was the light that people had claimed to see when they had a near death experience. No, Sam thought to himself. He had committed suicide. He wouldn't see a light. This, he reasoned, was a dream or a hallucination brought on by his dying brain. He closed his eyes once more until a voice brought him back again. The voice carried a sweet melody that brought tears to Sam's eyes.

"I am not a dream Samuel. I am real."

"Who are you?" Sam whispered, amazed that he could even speak.

"My name is Isaral."

"Are you an angel?"

"No Samuel, I am not an angel. But thank you for the compliment."

"Are you a demon?"

"No, I am not a demon."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"I am a messenger Samuel. I have been sent to tell you why you must continue with your fight. You and your brother."

"Who sent you?"

"The Almighty One."

"But I'm dying. I can't continue with Dean. Even if I lived, my hands are useless."

"You must continue."

"The demon will use me for evil. It's better if I die."

"The demon can only use you if you let him. You have great power and strength within you Samuel. You have a wondrous light that is a beacon for all who are lost. Sadly, it is also a beacon for all that is evil. Evil that would hope to use you for it's own purposes."

"That's why I need to die, so I can't be used for evil. I'm not strong enough."

"If you die this way, evil will win. Your soul will belong to the evil to use as it wishes. You must live and fight. You are the one true hope for the world in the coming war. You are stronger than you think."

"But I'm already dying. It's too late," Sam whispered sadly as tears streamed from his eyes.

"No Samuel, you will not die tonight," Isaral said as he lowered himself beside Sam. He slid his hand beneath Sam's neck and effortlessly lifted him from the floor. Once Sam was standing, Isaral moved in front of him.

"Your brother will be here soon. You must stay with him. He is your protector and will keep you safe. Give me your hands Samuel."

Sam reached his hands forward without question and Isaral took them into his own. Electricity shot through Sam, but he felt no pain, only a warm, comforting sensation. He dropped to his knees as Isaral continued to hold his hands. Sam could hear Isaral chant but could not understand the words. Another wave of warm electricity shot through his body and he flung his head back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He was unaware when Dean and Bobby entered the cabin. He did not hear his brother's voice when he confronted Isaral. All he knew was the warmth that radiated through his body and the bright light that filled his vision.

Suddenly, the warmth and the light was gone and he felt himself fall to the floor. He thought he heard Dean's voice calling for him and he tried to open his eyes, but soon the darkness claimed him and he heard nothing more.

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So, let me know what you think. One chapter to go!!!

Cindy.