Time stopped as soon as Dean Winchester stood up. Straightened up completely, Dean froze, his eyes transfixed on the sight before him. Numbly, Dean opened his mouth, intent on shouting something that would halt the scene transpiring before him. No sound had the courage to come out. Part of his view of the scene was blocked by his brother's back, but he saw enough to scar him for the rest of his life and the entirety of his death.

Before him, hand outstretched, was Sam. His baby Sammy, the one he had practically raised for his father. Dean was the proud mother, father, and brother of the man standing there. Until now. Every happy memory in Dean Winchester's heart and very soul went up into flames. Everything that Dean Winchester held dear inside was ground to bits. It all died, just like Dean's mental Sammy.

For months, ever since Dean had been pulled from the Pit, he knew Sam had changed. Changed as in changed for the worst. So what had Dean done? Ignored it mostly, telling himself that he'd step in and prevent Sam from doing something stupid that would make the Angels come after him. Basically, he had been trying to hide from the horrible reality that he lived in. It wasn't cowardice in his book. Dean Winchester was not a coward. He just couldn't handle it.

During his lapse of accepting his situation, Dean knew that he was breaking. The strain of the Angel's never-ending impossible tasks, Sam going all "darkside", losing Pamela, fighting bigger badass demons, attempting to face the apocalypse, worrying about Sammy constantly.....

So what had he done? He had created a mental Sammy that wasn't demonified and still his baby brother. Now that Sam was dead for the sight before Dean's eyes tore it to pieces just as the Hellhounds had done to his body.

Sam, the real Sam, stood there with his feet planted firmly on the concrete. Pinned to the wall was a demon. The one they had been hunting. She was a nasty little bitch, one of Lilith's minions. She had kicked the crap out of Dean, leaving him unconscious before turning to deal with Sam.

Giving him a chance to do his demonic mojo crap without Dean seeing.

Oh yeah, Dean knew that something was going on. He had known for a long time. Between the lies and badass demons turning up exorcised or dead when Dean woke up....well, Dean wasn't an idiot.

What he hadn't realized was how far Sam had gone.

The demon's eyes were bulging out of her sockets, Dean could see that clearly enough. She struggled to breathe and was gripping her throat for dear life. Then she struggled one last time. After that, she slid to the floor, dead, with the life draining out of her eyes.

From what Dean could tell, Sam didn't seem very affected by what just occurred. Not like before when his nose would bleed during demonic mojo time. That was the most scary part. It was as if the demon was controlling Sam, not the humanity.

Sam turned, expecting to see his brother wounded on the floor. He was surprised when he saw Dean standing there stock-still in horror, open-mouthed. Sam winced at the fear in Dean's eyes. Fear used to not exist with Dean Winchester. That all changed with Hell.

"Dean," he spoke softly, "I-"

"No!" Dean shouted, finding his voice at last.

"Dean, it's okay," Sam saw Dean falter for a moment, "Its me, it's Sam, your brother-"

That brought Dean back to his senses in full force.

"You aren't my brother, you evil son of a bitch!"

"Dean!" Those words still stung at Sam.

"No!" Dean shouted for the last time.

He couldn't take this. Anything but this, he could handle perfectly fine, but not this.

Dean felt the pain rearing up in him, everything he had buried before and after Hell. It was being held back by a dam that was about to collapse.

Dean did the one thing he had never thought possible of himself.

He turned and ran.

Dean slammed out of the house they had been in and ran down the dirt road. He didn't see the Impala anywhere. It was definitely not parked where he had left it. For the first time in his life. Dean Winchester didn't care.

Fuck the Impala. Fuck Sam. Fuck the apocalypse. Fuck the Angels and the demons. Fuck Heaven and Hell... Dean thought bitterly.

He was done.

Dean Winchester ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the rugged country road in the pitch black darkness. The road briefly reminded him of the crossroads where he had sold his soul for the life of his brother. That was where everything had went south at an alarming rate. One year of Sam attempting to save him, one year of worry and trying to accept his fate. Then Hell. Thirty years of being tortured. Ten of roleplaying the torturer. The first seal had been broken then. "When a righteous man spills blood in Hell" as Alastair told him as Dean tortured him.

Still he ran, shoving everything from his past behind him.

He ran forever. It could have been twenty seconds, twenty minutes, twenty years, twenty decades, or twenty centuries....time was all relative while Dean ran. Eventually, he came to the split in roads. One going west. One going east. He stopped there, catching his breath.

He looked up at the stars. They twinkled down at him carelessly. Dean felt the tears coming, but he held him back. What he had to cry about was in the past where it belonged.

Instead, he spread his arms wide and threw his head back, staring up at space.


And finished Dean Winchester would be, so be it to God himself.