A/N: So I got some lines from a friend and this is what hit me. Bear with me, I know this isn't where the show goes next but this is where my mind went when confronted with the lines. Call me nuts or wrong or whatever, but enjoy the read. Just remember this is coming from me, so who knows what you'll see in the words. Just hope some of you find something you like. Thanks for the lines Gill. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Adding to the Salt on the Iron Floor.

"What's on your mind kid?" Bobby asked me as I saw him take the other chair just beside me.

Couldn't bring myself to answer. After all I am king of the noncommittal grunt.

"Dean."

"Jus' don' wanna cut me any slack do ya?" I ask, raising my best friend Bottle to my lips and kissing the sweetest thing I have since my return trip from hell. Ol' Jack-ie burned and caressed me all at the same time.

"No. I don't." The old man said.

"Y'know, two years ago, I got told somethin'. Got told that if I couldn't save Sammy, that I might have to kill 'im."

Bobby was taken aback and I had to snicker at the look on his face. "Who the hell tol'ya that boy?"

I snorted and lifted the bottle, saluting the heavens and just as surely sending myself back to hell as I raised a finger with the neck of the bottle. "The man, himself. John "screw my boys' minds to hell" Winchester."

I felt like cutting my eyes out with a dull knife when I couldn't stop the tear that slid down my cheek.

For every tear that I cried in shame, there'll be someone else to blame.

So I stiffened and cussed under my breath. "Fuck." I shifted on the chair and blocked out the cries coming from on the other side of the thick, salt coated iron door.

"An' then he got his mojo goin' an' I'm scared as hell, 'cos I don't think…no, I KNOW I couldn't do what dad asked of me if I couldn't save him. I'm that screwed up that I'd let my brother doom himself and the whole damn world, jus' 'cos I can't live without him. That was proof freakin' positive when that…kid… twisted the knife in Sammy's back." I shifted again, lifting my head when the cries from the other side softened to broken whimpers.

"So I made the deal. I made the deal, kissed that red eyed bitch on the lips and took my own trip downstairs." The bottle lifted again and I relished the burn. "An' I get down there…sure, I spent my thirty years as everything from a punching bag to being carved like a fuckin' turkey, but…

And every crime that I commit, There'll be a punishment to fit.

"…. then I got off that rack, and I started puttin' 'em on. The souls. Was told they were bastards, murders and scum an' I knew the biggest fuckin' piece of scum was the one in front of me, doin' the lyin'. Then I started likin' it. I started likin' it and then for some unknown fuckin' reason all of a sudden I wake up, breathin' an' diggin' my way out of some freakin' box. Pulled out by a damn angel." I snort softly and press my eyes shut for a moment. I look back at the floor 'cos I can't look at the old man. "Don't remember anything at first. Blank slate. I was a little bit grateful for that. Then I start hearin' the screams. In my dreams, in my head. An the memories slam home. I knew, deep down that I deserved to hear 'em. Still do. Always will. I get told I started this whole thing, the end of the world. An' the screams in my head, they fall silent for just a moment before they start to roar. An' all I'm hopin is that they'll drown out that one fuckin' voice."

But I'd accept what's coming round, if I could only lose this sound.

"But y'know what? Over all them, the screams, the cries, I still hear that one voice. I still hear what he said that day. 'Save Sammy Dean. If you can't save him, then ya have to kill 'im.' I hear that clear as a freakin' bell."

That's been ringing in my ears, and tormenting me for years.

"But I'll tell you one thing… I'm not gonna kill Sammy. Not gonna happen. I'll save 'im, an' if I save him, then maybe this voice will stop. Maybe I'll jus' have to live with the cries and screams, but if one voice falls silent, then I'll still live. 'Cos, at least then I'll still have my Sammy's voice in my head. He'll still be talkin my ear off. I can live with the rest of it. I will save him. My way. No angels. No Demons. No blood. MY WAY!"

"I'm with ya boy." Bobby said quietly, shifting in the seat to clap a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I just nod and push up outta the chair. The bottle hits the floor and shatters. I don't even spare it a glance. My eyes are on the iron door and ears on the silence beyond it. My hand reaches for the heavy vault style door latch and I'm inside, picking my too silent little brother off the floor. He finally speaks, just low enough for me to hear.

"'M sorry, Dean. I can't get thr….through it alone…n-need m'brother." I pull him against my chest as the iron floor of the panic room digs into my knees and I vaguely realize I don't give a damn. I have Sammy in my arms and that's all that matters. And even the screams don't sound as loud.

"'M here, Sammy. Yer brother's finally here." And I'm lookin' down at the top of Sammy's head, feelin' his heart stutter against my chest through his back. And I just realize that voice, the one that says 'save him or kill him,' is now a little quieter. And all I'm hearin' is 'save him'.

"I'll fight for you, an' maybe I'll die for you, maybe I won't, but I will save you. An' maybe it'll help, maybe it won't, but either way…I'm back an' I'm gonna end this." I put my chin on top of my brother's mop of sweaty hair, and I don't bother stopping the tears this time. I think of it as adding another layer to the salt on the iron floor and makin us just a little stronger.

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