Bye, bye brother

"What Dean, what did dad say?"

"He said…" The eldest hesitated. "He said, that I might have to kill you…"


"What?"

Dean choked back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"He told me that I might have to kill you, Sammy" He repeated.

Sam looked taken aback as the words sunk in. "Why the hell would he say something like that?" he demanded.

Dean drew in a shaky breath.

"Because of what you are, and what he feared you might become," The eldest Winchester looked away to disguise his sorrow.

"And what the fuck is that, Dean?"

"You're a Divinant," he responded softly.

"A what?"

"A Divinant. A child, chosen by the devil, on the night celebrating its sixth month of life. Satan sends out his most loyal advisor, to manipulate the child into its eventual wickedness.

"Mom got in the way of his plans for you. She died, to stop it from happening. She knew Sam, she was a witch, and a good one," Dean explained.

Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. "But, the demon, it didn't manipulate me! You said it didn't have a chance to!" he exclaimed.

"Sammy, the demon did get to you. It has been for the past year. All the dreams about Jess, about her death, they were designed to turn you against the world. To kill for revenge, would have been your first step."

"But I haven't!" he insisted.

"You did. You shot at the demon, in that house in Salvation. You didn't get it, but you tried. Then you wanted to go back in for it. It was the first step, and the Croatoan, that was a test. You were immune Sammy; it didn't kill you, because that's how he made it. He made it so his children wouldn't be affected by any kind of demonic disease that he felt like unleashing on the world."

Sam let out a choking sob. "I can't be! I refuse to believe it!"

"Sam, you're one of them, whether you like it or not, but…"

"But what Dean?" He cried.

"I can't. Dad was going too, but he said I had to. He said you'd understand why. But I can't do it, Sammy, I just can't! You're my baby brother, and I won't let that son of a bitch get to you, but you have to promise you'll fight Sam, fight him!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam looked away in shame, and Dean gripped his shoulder, tears falling from his eyes. "Please Sammy, I don't want to do it…but if I have too…"


The trip to the Roadhouse was quiet.

Sam was lost in his own thoughts, and Dean tried not to think at all. He didn't want too.

He turned the music up and tried to let it drown out the feeling of dread that had planted itself in the pit of his stomach, but no amount of Metallica or AC/DC could quell his turbulent emotions.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Yeah?"

"If it came down to it—"

"Please, just don't," Dean, said quietly.

"If it came down to it, I would do it. If you wanted," he finished.

Dean shook his head. "I've already decided that it's not going to come down to it, so drop it,"

"But Dean…"

"End of story Sam, I don't want to think about it, and I don't want to think about it either, so just leave it be!"

"Dean, this is important! I don't want to be like Max and end up killing you! I would rather die before it came to that!"

"It's not going to Sam! It isn't, so quit it with the heroic talk and shut your face, before I shut it for you!" Dean threatened loudly.

He pumped the volume higher, and sat back, trying not to cry.

"Dean!" Sam cried over the music.

"I can't hear you!" Dean cried back.

Sam just couldn't be bothered. He was tired and scared, and his brother wasn't helping. He turned away, leaving Dean to himself, and immediately entering the brooding mode.


It was at least two hours later before the Impala pulled up in front of the Roadhouse. Neither of the boys had seen Jo or Ellen in at least three months, and both were nervous as to what might be said.

However all of those fears, at least melted when Jo came running out smiling, her golden curls flying behind her.

"Dean!" she cried, jumping into his arms for a warm embrace.

"Hey Jo," he said, with a sad smile.

She jumped off and went to hug Sam, but he only greeted her half-heartedly, before walking inside. Dean remained outdoors, and moved to the hood of the Impala.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Jo asked.

Tears leaked from his bright green eyes and Jo tilted her head.

"Dean?"

"It Sam," he said quietly.

"What about him?"

"Nothin' don't worry," Dean replied.

Jo placed a hand on his knee.

"Dean, please tell me…"

"He…I…"

"What?"

"Dad told me, before he died, that I may have to kill him…my own brother…"

Jo gasped. "Why?"

"He's a Divinant,"

Jo frowned, and paled as Dean explained it to her.

"But, you can't!"

"Do you think I am? Do you think I could—"

"DEAN!" Ellen called from inside.

Dean snapped to attention and jumped up running indoors.

"What?!"

"It's Sam, I dunno what happened, but he disappeared into the bathroom. He has a gun,"

No…

Dean rushed to the bathroom and bashed on the door.

"Sam! You get your scrawny ass out here, right now!" Dean roared, panic building up inside him.

"No Dean! I have to do this. I can't let anyone else die because of me!" He cried back.

"You're being a selfish bastard, you know that! Did you ever think about me?"

"I am doing this for you! I'm doing it so you don't have too!"

"I wasn't going too! And neither are you! Now if I don't hear that lock click in the next five seconds, I am going to kick this fucking door down and kill you myself!"

There was a moment of hesitance, then the door inched open. Sam's eyes were all puffy from crying. With a shaking hand, he gave the gun to Dean, before pitching forward.

"Shit Sam," Dean muttered, catching his trembling brother.

"I'm sorry Dean," he whispered, before passing out.

"Dammit," the eldest cursed, slinging his brother over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "You got anywhere I can put him?"

Jo nodded, pale with shock. She turned and led Dean into the spare room.

"Here," she said faintly.

Dean put him down gently and covered him with quilt.

"You ever try to scare me like that again Sammy, and you'll wish you'd never been born," He threatened in a low tone, before walking out and closing the door behind them.


The night was quiet. Ellen had closed the bar early. She couldn't run the place, she was just too distraught at what had almost happened, so instead, they sat around a table, sipping beers.

"I need to go check on Sammy," Dean announced, getting up from his seat.

Ellen nodded understandingly and Jo gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

Dean walked slowly to the back of the building and opened the door to where Sam was…

"SAM! NO! SAMMY!" He cried.

Chairs clattered from the front of the bar, and two pairs of running feet could be heard, coming towards the room.

Sam lay spread eagle on the floor, blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

Dean ran and skidded to his brother's side, applying pressure to the wound, tears rushing down his face.

Ellen and Jo stood at the doorway, crying their own tears of sorrow.

"Sammy, please wake up…" Dean begged.

"Dean…"

"Sammy, oh god, what have you done?"

"I'm sor-ry,"

Sam coughed, spraying blood down his front.

"Jesus Christ Sam,"

"I love you brother…"

his eyes slid closed.

"No…"

His breaths slowed…

"No…"

His heart beat its final beat…

"NO! SAMMY! NO!"

Dean brought his fist down on Sam's chest.

THUMP!

At the doorway, sobbing could be heard.

THUMP!

Dean sobbed, beating his brother methodically on the chest, to get his heart started.

THUMP!

Nothing…

THUMP!

No beat, no pulse, no gentle breath…

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

No more Sammy…


"Sam Winchester was only here for a short time, and in that time, he saved a lot of people, from a lot of things. He was a brave and intelligent young man, bright and full of energy. It grieves us now that we must let him go so soon, but it is the way. God rest his soul."

Dean sobbed. He had lost everyone. His mother, his father, and now, his baby brother.

Jo gripped his hand, her own brown eyes wet with tears.

As the priest closed his bible, Dean walked over to the open casket of his beloved brother.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't do more for you Sammy," Dean cried softly. "I'm sorry for everything…I love you…"

Dean placed his necklace on Sam's chest, and turned away.

He would have to get on with his life.

But he wasn't sure he could…