Author: poestheblackcat PM
Right after AHBL2. All roads lead to hell.Rated: Fiction T - English - Dean W. & Sam W. - Words: 1,423 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 12-21-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4732120
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary: Right after AHBL2. All roads lead to hell…Dean explains his reasoning for making the crossroads deal. Kind of dark…but no darker than most of those other similarly-themed fics that are on the site, so whatever.
AN: Thanks to DamaDeHonor for looking it over and giving me some tips on how to make it readable. Still kind of cringe-y, though.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Kripke…It was a good dream while it lasted…
"I woulda ended up in hell anyway." Dean's voice was rough, gravelly.
Sam's head snapped up to look at his brother. "What?"
Dean kept his eyes on the road, his white-knuckled hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. His jaw clenched and his lips pressed together. "Nothing. Never mind." His demeanor indicated otherwise.
Sam pushed himself sideways on the seat so that he was facing Dean. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Dean just kept his gaze up front and said nothing.
That was the last straw for Sam. He'd kept quiet for the duration of the drive after his initial blowup about the deal his brother had made in return for bringing him back to life, but this, this stoic silence was the final straw. "Don't give me that 'Nothing's the matter with me because I'm Mr. Always Alright and nothing affects me' crap," he broke out angrily. "I know you're not. I mean, why else would you have made that damn, stupid, suicidal deal in the first place, if you were really alright? Huh, Dean? You tell me that."
Dean still didn't speak, but every muscle in his body was tensed against Sam's verbal attack. The muscle in his jaw twitched.
The continued silence only succeeded in infuriating Sam even further. "A year, Dean. One freaking year," he all but shouted at his stone-faced brother. "And then the hellhounds are gonna come and tear you apart. One year. Not ten, but one. And even ten years wouldn't have been worth it." His voice broke. "What the hell were you thinking?"
A brittle smile appeared on Dean's face. "I was thinkin' it would be neat to know when and how I'd die. Most people don't, ya know. Hellhound seems a good a way to go as any, seein' what we do for a living. And a plus," he held up a finger and smirked, "I don't have to worry about gettin' old, or global warming, or Social Security—"
"Dammit, Dean," Sam fumed. "Be serious. Can't you just care about yourself for once? Huh? And every time there's something serious going on, you just have to go and make a joke out of it. It's not funny, Dean. Not when you're gonna die in a year. What were you thinking? You sold your soul to a demon, for cryin' out loud. We kill those things, Dean, we don't make deals with them." Well, Dad did, but that was beside the point.
He was about to burst forth on another tirade when Dean spoke. So softly that Sam had strain to hear him over the sound of the car's tires on the pitch-black pavement outside, the older Winchester said, "I was thinking I woulda ended up down there even if I hadn't made that deal." Dean cleared his throat and swallowed. "Just to let you know, Sammy." He hadn't moved his eyes from their locked gaze on the road.
Sam frowned at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" he breathed. "You could have killed the demon like we did tonight. You could have done that without me. You could have quit hunting and had a real life, Dean. You know, fallen in love with a nice girl, bought a house, had a couple of kids and named one of them after your geeky little brother. Normal. What we never had. With the demon gone—"
Dean's lips tightened into a thin white line and the Impala swerved to a stop on the shoulder of the road. Breathing hard, he hit the steering wheel and shook his head. "No. Damn it, Sam, no." His voice was strained. "Stop. Sam, just drop it."
"No, Dean," Sam snapped. "I'm not going to drop it and pretend everything's all fine and dandy when it's not." His voice softened. "Dean, just tell me why you couldn't just accept that I was gone and move on with your life? Why'd you have give up your soul for me? Dean."
Dean ducked his head, his eyes suddenly suspiciously shiny in the faint light from the stars. "That's just it, you don't get it. I couldn't do that. Not without you." He faltered for a moment. "You could, though. You've always been better at 'normal' than me, but I just couldn't. What I did, I did it because this way, I could be with you for a year, a whole year," his voice broke like Sam's had earlier, "and you'd still be alive after."
He finally met Sam's eyes. "If I hadn't made the deal, I would have ended up in hell anyway," he said evenly, looking away again. "You were right, Sammy. It was suicidal. But so's blowin' my own brains out." He took a deep breath and wiped off the lone tear that had made its way down his cheek in a swift, angry movement. "Suicides go to hell, Sam. Even I know that."
Oh ,Dean. Sam opened his mouth but nothing would come out. He reached out to put a shaking hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean." He squeezed.
Dean closed his eyes. He sighed and shook his head. "No, don't you 'Dean' me, Sam. I would have. I was this close to it. You shoulda seen me, man. I was…I even yelled at Bobby and kicked him out of the place when he said we should take care of your—you. I was a mess." He turned back to Sam. "So don't you dare reproach me for what I did. I had to do it. It was the only thing I could have done." His intense gaze pierced Sam.
Sam just looked at him with his mouth half-open. He'd never seen his brother like this. Dean had always seemed so strong, so invincible. Even when he'd been dying, there had been the slightest glimmer of hope: "He'll make it. He's Dean." But now, looking into those lost green eyes, he saw what his death had done to his seemingly unbreakable brother. He'd never thought that Dean would ever—
Dean broke eye contact and hung his head. He ran a hand over his tired face. "If I could go back in time to change what happened after you…died, I would still do what I did. I'd still make that deal with that skanky crossroads bitch."
He looked up to meet Sam's eyes. They sat there staring at each other for what seemed like ages, silently saying what they couldn't get out with words, just like the Winchesters they were. Sam blinked first and nodded. "I know." He sighed. "I know, Dean." He slid his hand off of Dean's shoulder after a small pat and tipped his head at the highway. He sniffed. "Better get back on the road if you wanna get to that motel before next week."
Dean quirked a shaky smile at him, accepting the out Sam had given him from the dreaded emotional moment he had dug himself into. "Yeah."
He maneuvered the Impala back onto their intended course. "You know what I wanna do with my year, Sammy?" he asked conversationally. "Have a crapload of fun. I wanna get it on with twins. I've done all kinds of crap, but never with twins. That would be fun." He raised a brow at Sam, knowing that there was an incredulous expression pasted on his face, even though he couldn't really see it in the dark. "Twins, Sam. That's fun." Dean grinned wolfishly and stepped on the gas.
AN: So? How bad was it? Really.
In case you were wondering, I'll get on with my other story...soon. Darn Christmas for distracting me...Yep, I'm a Grinch. Or a Scrooge. Bah humbug.