Title: Faith
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13, to be safe
Word Count: 1000
Disclaimer: Not mine. XD
Summary: Sam's POV of Devil's Trap, starting from the "You kill me, you kill Daddy" quote.
Warnings: Spoilers for Devil's Trap.
Notes: My first Supernatural fanfic. Inspiration hit, so I wrote everything down -- but it's rare for me to write in a fandom as new to me as SN. Hopefully, the characterization doesn't seem too off. ;; Constructive criticism is welcome, and as is feedback. The lyrics at the end are from Creedence Clearwater's Bad Moon Rising.

Sam stood, his hands steady as he aimed the colt at the demon, who looked back at him from his father's body.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy."

The demon's eyes glowed amber as it taunted Sam, a smirk on its lips. So cocky, so arrogant. So confident in thinking that Sam couldn't possibly kill his own father.

But little did the demon know. There were somethings that Sam would go to any lengths to do, and saving Dean was one of them.

Looking straight into the demon's eyes, he gave a small nod. "I know."

And he pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the air, harsh and unforgiving, and for a second, Sam almost thought he had missed. But the bullet embedded itself in John's leg, and the demon looked almost surprised before falling to the ground.

At the same time, Dean, no longer held against the wall, collapsed in a heap. Sam rushed over to him, trying to reassure both himself and his brother that everything was going to be okay. His eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the wounds on Dean's chest, and the red stains on his shirt as the life-giving fluid continued to drip. God, there was so much blood. He tried to pull Dean up, but his brother flinched away. Sam quickly let go, not wanting to cause Dean additional pain.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's right here, Dean – he's right here," Sam said, hoping to calm his brother, but Dean would have none of that.

"Go check on him," he insisted, and Sam slowly rose to his feet. He didn't want to leave Dean's side, but at the same time, he didn't want to agitate his brother further. Hesitantly, Sam walked towards his father's prone form on the ground.

And suddenly, John's eyes opened, his face contorted in pain. "Sammy!" he cried, a wild look in his eyes. "It's still alive inside me – I can feel it. You shoot me, shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!""

Should he? By killing the demon, he would also be killing his father, and as much as he would hate himself later if he did, this was John's life's mission. And despite everything, John had always emphasized that killing the demon came first, before anything else. Sam raised the colt, determination hardening his heart. This was the moment the Winchesters had lived for – the moment they would finally be rid of the demon that had haunted them their entire lives. He could do this. He had to do this – for his mother, for Jess, for his family, and as selfish as it seemed, for himself. He aimed, ready to pull the trigger...

...until on the edge of his conciousness, a quiet voice broke through.

"Sam, no. Please."

Dean's voice penetrated the haze of his mind, and Sam was suddenly gripped with doubt. His determination wavered. What the hell did he think he was doing?

He looked back at Dean, his heart aching at the pleading expression on his brother's face. And somewhere inside of him, something broke. Never before had he seen his brother look so weak, so defeated. Even when Dean had lay dying in the hospital after being electrocuted, there had been a fire in him that couldn't be extinguished. But now – now, his brother just seemed so tired, so deadened, that is scared Sam. The only thing that kept him going seemed to be the desperation and hope in his eyes as he looked at Sam, begging him not to kill their father.

"Sammy! You have to hurry – I can't hold on much longer. I'm begging you – we have to end this now."

And Sam made his decision. As much as a part of his mind urged him to finish what had been started more than twenty years ago, his heart told him to stop. Because he knew that by killing John, he would be killing his brother.

Sam lowered the colt, hearing Dean's sigh of relief behind him even as his father looked at him, anguish in his eyes.

The next moment, there was a scream as John's body thrashed, a whirling tornado-like shape rising high in the air above them before escaping through the floorboards.

And then, there was silence. A lingering silence thick with a mix of relief and despair.

John shot Sam an anguished and betrayed look, but as much as he tried, Sam couldn't find it within himself to regret his decision.

------------------------

"I'm surprised at you Sammy, why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye to eye on this – killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything."

Sam pressed on the accelerator, causing the impala to speed down the highway, leaving Salvation behind them.

He looked in the rearview mirror, seeing Dean lean weakly against the windows. His brother's eyes were dull, his face bloody, and the exhausion so evident in his posture that Sam couldn't help but worry. Yet at the same time, he was suddenly reminded of another part of Dean, a part that held so much love towards the family that it almost hurt.

"Dad, don't you let him kill me."

Even when John had been possessed, or when Sam had faltered, Dean had had so much faith in the both of them that they're always managed to pull through. He was the constant in Sam's life, and Sam didn't know what he'd do without his brother. It was a wonder that Dean claimed he wasn't a believer, Sam mused, his hands resting on the steering wheel. Because Dean's capacity for love had never ceased to amaze him.

They still had one bullet left in the colt. They could start over, and come what may, Sam knew he could deal with it with his family by his side.

There was a new hope in his heart as he replied to his father.

"No sir, not before everything."

Because in the end, Dean had believed enough for all of them.

Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.