Warning: This is not happy. I'm sure that's an understatement, and anyone who's seen part one of the S2 finale knows that. Spoils the end tremendously.

Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not mine. wibble

How It Ends

Sam stared down at Jake. It would have been easy to kill the guy, justifiable even, but he couldn't and wouldn't let himself be the damned demon's pawn. Wouldn't do what he knew was wrong on several levels. He took a shaky breath and wished with his whole heart and soul for Dean…and then actually heard Dean's voice and ohthankfuckdeanwasthereandalive. His whole body felt lighter just at the sound of Dean calling his name. He stumbled away from Jake's unconscious form, shoulder throbbing and jawbone aching intensely. Neither of those things mattered, because Andy's wireless communication had worked and Dean was there for him. He smiled when he saw both Dean and Bobby up the sodden road.

"Dean," he said, and ignored the increased pain in his jaw that came when he smiled.

Sam was so damned glad to see his brother. Dean was there. Dean was there. Sam was safe now. Dean was there, and everything was going to be just fine. Jake would listen to both of them together and then things would–

"Sam, look out!" No time. Sam thought he saw Dean running before he arched in sudden, confusing agony. Everything became about that torturous feeling, digging into him and twisting, twisting and he didn't know what was happening. There was so much pain it stole his breath, or somehow Dean became his voice. "NO!"

And Sam was numb and couldn't seem to draw a full breath, but he had no idea why. Cold and hot and shadows and rubber limbs and Dean in right front of him. His ears were filled with rumbling thunder. He tried to listen to it and tried so hard to believe it, whatever it was telling him. He couldn't move, couldn't feel anything but…strength, arms around him. Dean, Dean, Dean. Pain and nothing and rain and mud and the smell of his brother, but it wasn't the right scent. Fear. Sweat. Salt. Hands on his neck now, his head wouldn't stay up and Dean was right in front of him but Sam could hardly see. He should be able to see. Tried. Taste of metal in his mouth. What? Eyes didn't work well, but enough. Dean's face was haunted, haunting. Forever.

Sam wanted to say something, he thought, but then tired, sleep and this is the end? More rumbling thunder, Dean's voice real and scared and lying. Drowning, help. So, so, sorr–