A/N Beginning of this chapter takes place just after s3e9 Malleus Maleficarum, which I've randomly decided took place in a suburb of Memphis, TN (It's shortly after Christmas, which puts it in either late December or early January, in a location where it is unusual enough to have an active garden to get commented on, but not cold enough for snow, and with fairly affluent suburbs. And I like Memphis).

Second part takes place between s3e14 Long Distance Call and s3e15 Time is on my side.

Also, my AU, my rules LOL.

Note: the rest of Season 3 is basically unchanged, except for some dialog at the beginning of s3e16 No Rest for the Wicked which I've decided not to address, because in addressing it I will give away something that becomes a significant plot point later on in my story. So there.

Finally, my lovely followers, readers and commenters, I really need your help. There is a not insignificant part of my brain (call it 1/3) that is thinking that this is, if not the last, then certainly nearly the last chapter of Evolutions, and that my next story (tentatively entitled Aftermath, but don't hold me to that) addresses Seasons 4 & 5 (basically the whole Apocalypse arc), followed by a third story (Adaptations) which picks up in season 6 and goes until I'm not sure when, maybe the end of the show. Another 1/3 of my brain thinks Evolutions should just keep going until Swan Song. Still another 1/4 of my brain thinks this whole mess should be just one really looooong story (or, possibly, a bunch of short stories and one-offs in the same universe that string together?). The last 1/12th is just so confused!. So. What are your thoughts, faithful readers? Please, PLEASE let me know in the comments!

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US-68

Just South of Cadiz, TN

Sunday

January 6, 2008

11:23 a.m.

Dean glanced again at his brother, who had been sitting silently, staring out the window, since they left Memphis in the rear view nearly four hours ago.

"Hungry, Sammy?" Dean wondered. "There's a Burger Barn in the next town."

"Mmmhmm."

"No greens in sight," Dean continued.

"'Kay."

"Have to fight the manager to get lettuce on your burgers, even."

"'S fine."

"Yessir, all meat, all the time. Gotta go out back and slaughter your own cow, Sammy, you up for that?"

"Whatever, Dea…wait, what?" Sammy finally turned to face his brother, his brows drawn together in confusion, looking so much like a 3 or 4 year-old Sammy just waking up that it made Dean's heart ache. "Not killing a cow!'

Dean chuckled. "Well, I'm glad some of that made it in. Where've you been all morning, man? Cuz it sure the hell hasn't been in this car."

"Wha — no — I…" Sam sighed. "I've just been thinking," he admitted softly.

"That's what that burning smell was," Dean flashed a grin which faded when he glanced at his brother and saw the kid staring out at nothing again. "Talk to me, Sammy," he sighed. "What's eatin' you?"

"They're not coming back, Dean," Sam frowned, turning his head towards his brother but somehow, Dean knew, not really seeing him.

"Well, yeah, Sam. That's why we gank 'em, so they can't come back and keep killin' folk."

"No," Sam sighed and finally looked at his brother. "My powers. They haven't come back."

Dean shrugged. "Well, we know you burned 'em out in Wyoming. Not the first time, man. Just taking a little longer to come back, that's all."

"No. No, I don't think so," Sam shook his head. "I think they're gone. For good this time."

Dean glanced at his brother, puzzled by the melancholy the announcement seemed to have caused. "Oh." He paused and glanced at Sam again. "Well, that's what you wanted, right? To get rid of them, so you won't be tempted to go all Dark Side? So, this is a good thing. Innit?"

Sam shrugged. "I thought so, but…"

Dean let out a deep sigh, checked the road and pulled over far onto the shoulder, before putting his baby in park and twisting in his seat to look full on at his brother. "I don't get you, man," Dean admitted. "You don't want your powers, so you bind them. You need your powers back, you unbind them. Then you burn out and now you're upset you don't have 'em again? Jesus, Sammy, you blow hot and cold worse than a virgin at prom."

"I'm sorry," Sam said and Dean tensed at the level of emotion so clear in his brother's voice. "I thought maybe they could…" He broke off, pressing his fingers against his eyelids to stop the tears he wouldn't let come.

"Could what?"

Sam sniffed and dropped his hands to his lap, twining his fingers tightly together. "Save you," he whispered.

"Aw, Sammy…."

"You've only got five months, Dean," Sam continued. "Not even, and I…I can't just…I gotta do somethin' Dean. I gotta try!"

"I know, I know," Dean reached out, stopping himself from actually touching his distraught brother. "But…I mean they could still come back…"

"It's been seven months, Dean," Sam scoffed, and exhaled slowly. "And anyway, like I said, I think they're gone for good."

"Well, if they just burned out…"

"I don't think they did."

"What?"

"I don't think the powers burned out. I think…"

"What?"

"I think they just — left. When the Demon died."

"Come again?"

"We'll, I mean, it's all tied to him, right? Ever since the beginning, since I was a baby. And now he's dead and…and I, I feel…since Wyoming, since we, since you killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon, I, I feel… different," Sam confessed. "I feel…" he shook his head and looked out the windshield.

"What? You feel what, Sammy?"

"For the first time in my life — well, first time since I was ten, anyway — I don't, I, I don't feel…Look, there's always been this, this thing inside me, this…darkness, jus—just pulling at me, and, and I…I don't feel it anymore. I feel…well, I almost feel…"

"Tell me."

"Normal."

Sam finally looked into his brother's eyes and the unmistakable shine of tears broke Dean's heart.

"Aw, Sammy…"

The kid laughed, softly. "It's so stupid," he admitted. "The one thing I've wanted, my whole life, was to be fuckin' normal, and now that I am…I'd give anything not to be."

"Wait, what now?"

Sam sighed. "We did it, Dean," he admitted. "Me, Bobby, Ash — we did it. Bobby confirmed it while you were in the shower this morning."

"Confirmed…Sammy," Dean frowned, his voice instantly switching to parental unit mode, "what did you do? Is this about my Deal, Sam? 'Cause I told you, man, I fuckin' told you to leave it. Alone."

"No," Sam corrected, in the slightly prissy, sanctimonious tone that set Dean's teeth on edge every freaking time. "No, what you said was, don't do anything that would mean you broke the deal, because that would get me killed. But, if I, if we could find a way to keep you out of Hell, and it was within the rules of the deal itself — you were all for that."

"Yeah, but that doesn't exist, Sam. Anything you do to the deal…"

"It does," Sam told him and grabbed his hand, holding it in both his bear paws, swallowing Dean's hand whole. "It DOES, Dean, we found it! Well, I found it, but Bobby and Ash confirmed it. It's real. We can save you!"

For a second, Dean's heart surged, as much at the hope and joy in his brother's eyes as at the idea of not having to go to Hell.

Then the light in the blue-green eyes faded into a disturbing darkness, and Sam pulled his hands away. "Or we could have. If I still had my powers," he admitted, staring at the seat between them. "But I don't, so you're still gonna die, because I'm useless and too fucking weak…"

"Hey. Hey!" Dean interrupted and grabbed Sammy's shoulder's shaking him slightly until Sam met his eyes. "Nobody talks that way about my little brother, dude," he warned. "I"ll punch the lights out of anybody who tries. Even you, you got me?"

Sammy's mouth quirked up just slightly. "You're gonna defend me by punching my lights out?"

"If I have to."

"You're ridiculous," Sam scoffed, but the darkness faded away from his little brother's eyes.

I still got it.

"Why are we just sitting here?" Sam wondered.

Dean paused a moment, searching Sam's face to make sure his brother was some level of okay again, then got them back on the road.

He let the silence and the blacktop roll out for a few miles, casting short, cautious looks at the boy — man, he reluctantly corrected himself — sitting shotgun, until finally the silence and the curiosity got to him.

"So what d'you find?"

"Hmm?" Sam looked back from the passenger window.

"You said you found something," Dean reminded. "About the deal. A, a way out. Maybe."

Sam sighed. "I told you. Without my powers, without my telekinesis, it won't work."

"Tell me anyway," Dean shrugged.

"Dean…"

"It could come back, Sammy," Dean insisted. "Your TK, it could come back. And if it does, I want to know what you're planning, so you don't get yourself killed."

Sam laughed softly. "Wow, Dean," he said drily, "the level of trust you have in my judgment is positively overwhelming."

"Just tell me, Bitch."

Sam shrugged. "Well, when you explained the parameters of the deal, on your side," he began, "what you told me — no trapping the demon, no tricks, no welching on the deal, or I die…it got me thinking."

"About?"

"Well, what if the demon welched?

Dean shot his brother the patented Dean Winchester Death Glare that had been known to stop even the most bad-ass monsters in their tracks on occasion. "Are you fucking kidding me, right now? If the demon welches, you DIE, Sam!"

"Nonono, that's not what I'm talking about."

"Well, what then?" Dean snapped, all patience gone at the very idea that Sammy would fuck with his life this way.

"Well, the deal, it's a legally binding contract, right?"

"I suppose."

"With a time clause, right?"

"Yeah," Dean frowned. "I get a year to live, then they get my soul in Hell."

"Then they collect your soul for Hell," Sam corrected.

Dean shot him a look. That sounded like Sam thought there was a significant difference there, but damned if Dean could find it. He just shrugged and turned back to the road.

"See, it got me thinking about, about contracts. Time-limited contracts. And I got to wondering — what if you're not the only one under a time constraint?"

"Come again?"

"You get a year to live," Sam explained, "that's your time limit."

"Thanks for reminding me, man," Dean mumbled, but Sam kept on talking as if he hadn't heard.

"But maybe, maybe the Demon has a time limit, too. I mean, we know, right," Sam continued, his voice getting that eager tone, that extra speed when he got really into an explanation and, even with this topic, Dean found himself smiling at his brother's inherent geekiness. "We know that at Midnight on the day the contract ends, the very second the contract is up, the demon or the hellhound or whatever, comes for the, the victim's soul."

"Yeah," Dean sighed.

"Well, what if they don't."

Dean looked his brother, frowning. It had to be the stress. The extra demons in the world, Dean's deal. The stress, it was making his baby brother crack up. "Wha…what if — WHAT?"

"What if the Demon's late?" Sam wondered. "What if the demon fails to collect on the debt. Does the deal just sit, there, hanging until…forever? Or does the deal become invalid."

"I…that's…"

Sam nodded, eagerly, "I know, brilliant, right?"

"Crazy, Sam," Dean corrected. "That's crazy! What crossroads demon isn't going to collect on a soul?! That's…that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

"It's not though," Sam shook his head. "Because I looked into it! And I found a couple cases, Dean. If the demon can't, uh, seal the deal? At least start to pull the soul into hell within the first five minutes after midnight — don't have to kill you, not totally, just have to start killing you — deal's off."

"That's not…what about Evan?" Dean challenged. "I had to blackmail that bitch into letting him go."

"Wasn't five minutes," Sam smirked. "And what, you thought she'd tell you the deal was about to expire?"

"This is legit?"

Sam nodded. "Found five confirmed instances," he assured him, then grimaced, slightly, when Dean shot him a skeptical look. "Okay, so a couple of those were the victim doing a favor for the demon, and the demon choosing not to collect," he reluctantly admitted, "but three…three of them we confirmed. The hellhound tried to get to the guy for five minutes, then just…disappeared. So long as the hellhound can't touch you for just five minutes…it's good."

"You're sure?"

Sam nodded again. "Bobby confirmed just this morning."

"Evan would've been okay anyway," Dean scoffed. "I had to take Demon tongue for nothing?"

"What?"

"What? No, I'm just saying, if we'd just been patient…"

Sam shook his head. "Uh, no," he admitted sheepishly. "Not in that case, anyway."

"But…"

"Goofer Dust blew away," he admitted, "and I didn't have my TK back, and…yeah. Evan and I? We would've been puppy chow. But it's different now! Or, it would've been," he suddenly deflated, all his enthusiasm gone with a sigh,, "if I still had my powers. Which I don't."

"But if you did…." Dean pressed.

"I could hold off the hellhound, Dean, keep it from touching you. Just five minutes. I'd just need five minutes."

Dean shook his head. "And if they send a second hellhound? Or a, a whole pack of the damned things? Then what, Sammy? And what the hell do you mean Evan and you. Why would — you were between them weren't you?" Dean realized. "You got between a hellhound and it's victim? You stupid son of a —-"

"LIke you wouldn't have?" Sam challenged. "Jesus, Dean. Throwing myself head first between a civilian and the thing trying to kill him? Where'd you think I learned that move?"

Dean glared, but couldn't refute the accusation. "Okay," he finally conceded. "But you haven't answered my question. What if they send two hounds, or a whole pack? Sam, it almost laid you out to hold just three people from shooting themselves, you honestly think you got enough juice to handle multiple hellhounds?"

"I don't know!" Sam admitted, flinging his arms up in frustration. "But I gotta try, Dean. I gotta do something, man. Maybe I can hold that many off, maybe I can't, but we get more Goofer dust, lay down a thick enough salt circle to go with it, layer on layer of protection, every sigil we know. With all that, and my TK to boot…We can buy enough time, Dean, we can!" Sam sighed and dropped his head forward dejectedly. "Or we could've, if I had my powers." He sniffed and looked up at his brother again, the tears finally visible on his lashes even as he fought them. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

"Naw, Sammy," Dean reached out and put a hand behind his brother's neck, giving it a slight squeeze. "It's all good, man. You had a plan, and it's a good plan! If the TK comes back…who knows. It might even work."

Sam scoffed. "And if it doesn't?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, nothin' changes, right? It all goes down as planned." He pulled his hand back to the wheel, and looked steadily out the windshield. "And I'm okay with that."

"Liar."

"No, really, man. You're safe. You're gonna live," Dean said and shrugged. "And I'm good."

"I'm not."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No," Dean shrugged. "I'm not. So long as you're okay. You gotta promise me, Sammy."

"What?"

"Two things. First, no putting yourself between me and the hellhound. I mean it," he continued when scoffed. "Matter of fact, I don't want you to be there at all."

"That's not happening," Sam assured him. "Not letting you die alone. And I will be wherever I need to be to stop it. Not gonna lie and promise otherwise."

Dean nodded. That one had been a long shot to begin with.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "You still gotta promise me, Sammy. Promise me you're gonna be okay. When I go. Remember what we talked about, after we got the Demon? You already promised me, man, and I'm fuckin' holding you to that. You gotta swear, man, on…on…Mom's grave! Dad's pyre. Dad's notebook, a stack of fuckin' Bibles, I don't care, man, on something!"

"Dean," Sammy sighed, and Dean saw the small wince as his kid couldn't quite keep the whine out of his voice, "I mean, I know, man, but…what am I supposed to do? I don't want to hunt without you. What else is there?"

"Like we talked about, man, go back to school. We've killed old Yellow Eyes, there's nothing more we have to do. Just…get out."

"And go back to school," Sam said drily.

"Yeah."

"You realized we talked about that before we found Dad, right?" Sam reminded.

Dean shrugged. Yeah, so?

"And before we were caught on camera apparently robbing a bank and holding hostages, one of whom was found dead?" Sam continued. "And, oh yeah, getting arrested by the FBI and dying. Somehow I don't think Stanford is going to be all that eager to take back a bank robbing, homicidal psycho who was declared dead months ago."

"Right," Dean nodded, sheepishly, having honestly forgotten that little barrier. "But, I mean…you can still have a life, Sammy. Start over, new name, new identity. Think how much easier law school would be the second time around, right? Or, or…I don't know…set up your own curio shop like that chick you banged in California. Become the next Bobby, man, if you don't want to leave the life, something. You're a smart dude, man, you can think of a way."

Sam just shrugged and looked pained by the entire conversation.

"But I need you to promise me, man, right now," Dean pressed, and held Sammy's gaze for a second before turning back to the road. "I know it ain't gonna be easy, I know that, but…you gotta swear to me. You're not going to do anything stupid, right? I mean. I'm making the big play here, man, and I got no regrets. But you gotta stay, you hear me? You gotta live, Sam. For me," he added, shamelessly playing the noble sacrifice card.

Sam looked at the strong, familiar profile, struggling to hold in the broken screams that wanted to escape at the thought of life without Dean. He pulled in a shaking breath and nodded. "Okay," he agreed, unable to speak above a whisper or stop the quiver in his voice. "Okay, Dean. I promise. I swear. I, I'll survive," he nodded, unable to commit to anything more substantial, more meaningful, than mere survival when he honestly couldn't image getting out of bed with the knowledge that his big brother, his partner, his best friend, his protector, and parent and just…everything…was being eternally undergoing all the tortures of literal Hell because of him.

Dean glanced over. "Okay," he nodded, noting the limitation on the response, and taking it for what it was worth. "And no deals, right?"

Sam nodded. "Right."

"Good man," Dean nodded once more, decisively, and forced a crooked grin, looking quickly away before his own tears fell. "Now, let's get serious, here. Long drive ahead. Hand me a tape, will you?"

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March 16, 2008

Sunrise Motel

Bat Cave, NC

5:18 a.m.

Dean flipped channels for the umpteenth time, before tossing the remote down on his bed, and turning to glare at the definitively empty bed on the other side of the room.

"Where are you?" he muttered and pulled out his phone…again.

He'd been calling and texting his missing brother since he'd woken at 2:30 and found the other bed empty.

Three freaking hours with his brother wandering around, armed only with a silver knife and his Taurus (Dean had checked the weapons bag), and whatever spell he could conjure up (about a week after the whole clusterfuck at the Morton House with the Ghostfacers douchebags, Sammy had, after months of trying, finally been able to light a pile of bones on fire with a spell for the first time since Wyoming. His magick had been steadily returning since, breaking whatever dam had held that ability at bay).

In all that time, Dean's multitude of texts and phone calls had received exactly one response, a simple text at 3:07 a.m. that read, in its entirety, I'm good. Go back to sleep.

Right. His brother was out there, alone, helpless as a (well-trained, fairly deadly) kitten, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the damned mountains, in the middle of a fucking snow storm, and he should just go back to sleep.

He was on the verge of finally breaking down and calling the cell company to track Sam's phone when he heard the key in the door.

Dean was across the room in less than a second, and slammed Sammy back against the door as soon as it closed behind the kid.

"Hey, Dean," Sam squeaked. "What are you doing up?"

"What am I…Where the fuck have you been, Sam?!" Dean demanded, not even bothering to keep his voice down. There wasn't anybody else staying at the tiny motel, anyway. (Bat Cave, nestled at the edge of the Blue Ridge Parkway and surrounded by beautiful scenery and very narrow winding roads clinging to the literal side of a mountain, was, despite its very cool name, not a hotbed of tourism during a Blue Ridge Mountain winter. Go figure.) "I wake up, and you're just gone, no note, no nothing, just out in a fucking blizzard, practically unarmed, when we know there's a bad ass demon gunning for you. What the fuck were you thinking, man?" he yelled, and pulled Sam away from the door, only to shove him back against it, harder this time.

"I texted," Sam protested. "And what blizzard? There were, like, eight snowflakes all night, Dean!" Sam protested in clear defiance of the snow melting on his shoulders and in his hair. He broke his brother's hold and pushed the older Hunter off him, stepping around him to calmly pull off his (wholly inadequate, in Dean's opinion) coat and toe off his boots. "And I'm not unarmed. I had my knife and my Taurus." He cast a suspicious eye at the weapons bag, noting it had moved from its place on the floor at the foot of Dean's bed, to the middle of his own. "Which you clearly knew."

"You went out, alone, when we know something's after you, Sam. It was reckless and stupid."

Sam glared at him. "Okay, first of all, in six weeks time, I'm going to be alone all the fucking time," he snapped and Dean couldn't quite hide the wince at the reminder of his imminent demise. "Second, when isn't something after me? I've had a target on my back since I was six months old! And third.." and here, for the first time, he dropped his gaze away from Dean's, ostensibly to remove his flannel overshirt, "who said I was alone?"

Dean blinked. "You…who…What the hell, Sammy? It's not like there's a nightlife here. Who the fuck did you meet in Bat Cave? Catwoman?"

Sam shrugged and pulled off his tee-shirt. "Ruby."

"Ru—Dammit, Sammy!" Dean's volume reached new heights. "Why the hell are you still spending time with that demon skank? What, is she that good a lay? She better be, because there's no other reason to spend time with that bitch!"

Sam glared at him. "Not all of us think with our dick, Dean," he snarled. "And yeah, there is another reason, jackass."

"What?!" Dean shouted.

"SAVING YOU!" Sam yelled back.

Dean blinked and sank slowly down on the side of his bed, shaking his head. "Sammy," he said quietly, "man, she's lyin' to you. She already told me, after she helped with that coven. She can't save me."

"I know," Sam nodded and sat on his own bed, facing his big brother. "But she says…I can."

"What?"

"The plan with the telekinesis," Sam explained. "She says we were right, Ash and Bobby and me. It'd work."

"You don't have your telekinesis," Dean reminded, gently. "Or have you been holding out on me?"

"No, of course not," Sam scoffed. "But…" he looked at the floor and took a deep breath before meeting Dean's eyes again. "She says there's a way to get my powers back."

Dean frowned. If it were that easy, Sam would've been bursting with the news the second he came through the door. "I know I'm going to regret asking this," he admitted, "but How?"

Sam bit the corner of his lower lip, exactly the same way he did when he was teenager and broke whatever curfew or rule Dean had laid out for him. "Same way I got them?" he said and shrugged, looking so innocent and hopeful that it took Dean an extra couple of seconds to put it together.

"Same way…but…Wait a minute!" Dean snapped. "Demon blood? She wants you to drink Demon Blood?!"

"Just a cup or so," Sam rushed to explain.

"Oh, is that all!"

"It only took a couple of drops to amp me up the first time, Dean," Sam pointed out, what he clearly thought was reasonably and what Dean knew was anything but. "A cup, maybe two, and think of what that could do! How much power I would have, again! More than enough to hold off a couple of hellhounds! Dean, I could save you!"

"By becoming a vampire!" Dean countered, jumping up to angrily pace the small room

Sam sighed and shook his head, watching his brother move in Dean's time-honored way of dealing with agitation without punching. "I knew you were gonna…look, it's not like that. I wouldn't be a vampire, Dean. Vampires they, they need to drink human blood to survive. On the regular, all the time I just…It's one time. No fangs, no killin' anybody. I just need a little…boost, that's all."

Dean stared at his baby brother like he had three heads. "A boost? Jesus, Sam, this isn't some, some fuckin' steroid. It's Demon Blood! You don't even know what that would do to you, man!"

"Yeah, I do," Sam insisted. "It would give me my powers back. It would let me save your life, Dean!"

"No, Sam," Dean countered, finally stopping his movement to glare down at his foolish, blind, self-destructive little brother. "It would make you a monster."

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed before straightening his shoulders and looking Dean dead in the eye with — god help him — Sam Winchester Puppy Eyes (patent pending), blue and green and golden and so fucking hopeful it physically hurt. "I'm okay with that."

"You…" Dean sat heavily on his bed again, all the fight punched out of him in a hard breath. For a moment, Dean couldn't even talk, his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth as his throat closed up. He put one hand over his mouth and dragged it down over his chin to fist it in his lap. "You've already decided," he realized. "Haven't you? Oh, my god, you've already done it."

"Why shouldn't I?" Sam demanded, his voice breaking as tears gathered in his eyes. "To save you? What wouldn't I do?"

"THIS," Dean countered. "You wouldn't do this!"

"What? Become a monster?" Sam scoffed. "Why not? It's what you did. It's what Dad did."

"WHAT?"

"What, Dean? What did you think was going to happen to you?" Sam challenged, no longer fighting the tears that slid slowly down his cheek, one at a time. "You sold your soul, Dean, just like Dad. You're going to Hell. Real. HELL. You think you can go to Hell for the rest of forever and stay human? You're gonna become a demon, Dean. Maybe not in my lifetime," he admitted, "but you will. You'll become a monster. For me. Why can't I do the same for you?" he demanded.

"Sammy…"

"And no," Sam continued, softly, his voice growing cold beneath the tears. "I haven't done it. I want to," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I really do. Anything to save you." He took a breath and his broken gaze turned into a glare, angry enough to make Dean flinch. "But since I'm doing this for you, I'm at least giving you something Dad never gave you. Something you never gave me. A CHOICE," he spat out the last of anger before the tears started to fall in earnest.

"Wha—-"

"Because, if I'd had a choice, Dean, I'd've stayed dead, rather than see you in Hell. And I know you felt the exact same when Dad died to save you," he added. "I won't make the same mistakes. I won't do to you. What you did to me," he sobbed. "So if you say 'no'—I won't do it, Dean. But, please. Please," he whispered, and slipped off the bed to fall at Dean's feet, clutching at his brother's hand, bringing it to his tear-streaked face. "Don't say no. Please, let me save you," he begged. "Please, Dean. Let me do this."

Dean pulled in and let out a shaking breath, then another and put his hand on the top of his stricken brother's head, petting the soft, snow-dampened hair as his own tears fell. "No," he whispered and Sam lifted his head to stare up at him.

"Dean, please…"

"No, Sammy," he repeated and sank to the floor to cradle his baby brother's face in his hands. "No. I won't let you make the same mistakes…I won't let you damn yourself. Not like Dad. Not like me. You're better than that, Sammy."

"Not without you," Sam whimpered, his voice a bare breath in the air.

"Without anyone," Dean assured him, and Sam remembered six months spent alone, after Dean had died in a parking lot on a sunny Wednesday morning in Florida.

Remembered the cold, broken killer he'd become.

"I'm not," he admitted. "I'm not."

Dean nodded and kissed his forehead. "Of course, you are," he promised. "You're the best of us, Sammy. Stronger than me. Smarter than Dad. Bigger than both of us," he added, irreverently, and was rewarded by a single, bursting laugh. "You'll be all right, little brother," he assured his kid, and Sam knew it for the lie it was, even if Dean didn't.

"Just…promise me, Sammy. Promise you won't do this. You won't ever drink Demon Blood. Not for any reason. Promise me!"

Sam nodded and hugged him close, burying his face in his brother's neck. "Promise. I promise."

They stayed on the floor together for neither knew — or particularly cared — how long, before Dean pulled away with a light slap to the side of his kid's neck. "It'll be okay."

Sam nodded. "I'm not going to stop trying," he vowed. "No matter what, Dean, I'll never stop trying to fix this."

Dean smiled, softly. "I know you won't," he nodded and gently brushed the tears away from his baby brother's crystal clear eyes before placing another kiss on his forehead. "Now, how about you get some sleep, huh? Long drive today."

Sam nodded, and stood, helping Dean to his feet, before tossing the weapons bag to the floor, stripping off his jeans and climbing into bed in just his boxers. "Long drive?" he repeated as he settled under the blankets, facing his brother's bed. "Where we headed?" he wondered as Dean returned to his bed and clicked the light off.

"Does it matter?"

Sam smiled in the dark. "No," he admitted, and knew Dean was finishing the sentence in his own head the way it finished in his.

Not as long as we're together. For as long as we have.

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A/N Bat Cave, NC does actually exist, and is named, not for the home of The Batman, but for an actual cave where a large colony of bats has lived for many years.

Catwoman was an adversary — and occasional girlfriend — of Batman.