Save Sam, or you might have to kill him.
Sam gazed at his hallow face in the dusty motel mirror. Dean couldn't do it. He'd never be able to do it. Sam had been killing people! Granted, that wasn't really him, it was the demon, but Dean didn't know it. And now Sam knew. He knew what he had to do.
He had to do what he knew Dean couldn't.
Sam took a swig of the Brandy that cost an absurd amount of money from the little fridge in the corner of the room. He hated whiskey. He took another swig, grimacing. Then he placed the bottle on the armoire, and picked up the neatly addressed envelope instead. He taped the envelope to the mirror with some scotch tape he'd acquired a few hours before. Then he crossed the room to the bed and sat down on the edge. He leaned back and just looked up at the ceiling, for the first time without a pang of hurt or fear. He studied it, thinking about people he missed, what dying on the ceiling had represented.
He was probably responsible for their deaths too in some way or another. Their deaths had been associated with the yellow eyed demon. And all the yellow eyed demon seemed to care about was him, and hurting everyone around him, anyone he loved.
The place had been called Beverly's, the small privately owned jewelry shop in California where he'd picked out Jess's ring. It was only a matter of days before he was going to go back, it cost a couple hundred dollars. A tear rolled down's Sam's cheek and a sob escaped his throat without his consent.
He quickly pulled himself together, wiping the few tears away meaninglessly. He wanted his face to be dry. He wanted to do this out of strength not weakness. He couldn't let this thing that followed him hurt anyone else. He'd never voiced it aloud, but his worst fear was to one day see Dean plastered to the ceiling too.
He missed Jess so much it physically hurt. And he often got a dead empty feeling thinking about his mother, he wished he'd had the chance to know her, and now Dad too. He knew it was the right thing to do. There was only one option. Dad would have done it, hell he tried to get Sam to kill him along with the yellow-eyed demon – but Sam hadn't been strong enough to pull the trigger and end his father's life. Obviously the demon wanted him, Sam. So he had to make sure he never gave the thing the chance to have him. He had a flashback of his father, with bright yellow eyes smiling as blood poured out of Dean's chest. He couldn't let the demon make him into that monster next, or probably even worse. He hated leaving Dean like this. But he'd get the letter. The letter would explain.
He had to do this. He had no choice.
So he reached numbly out next to him and lifted the gun off the lumpy mattress. He held it in his hands for a brief moment, just looking at it. Then he raised it and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes shut tight.
God Jess, I hope you're waiting on the other side.
His finger trembled, hovering over the trigger. Sam didn't hear the door open, nor smell the aroma of the food his older brother was carrying in. He was too lost in what he was about to do. He thought he smelt gunpowder, but maybe it was just in his head because the gun was so close to his nostrils.
The bag of Chinese food fell to the floor with a crash, various colors cascading across the carpet but neither Winchester noticed.
"What the fuck? Sammy, NO!"
Dean lunged across the room, sheer unexpected panic fuelling a massive surge of adrenaline. Sam didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to pull the trigger, his finger bounced indecisively above the piece of black metal. He came precariously close to applying the correct pressure, the pressure needed to hold the trigger down and end his life. He made the decision. He didn't want to make Dean watch this, but it had to be done, and Dean would never do it. He scowled, eyes screwed forcefully shut blocking out the noise and his finger reached with all his might for his escape, for all the righteous reasons.
A heavy force hit him in the side, his hand was thrown unsteady; he instinctively shied away from the trigger as the gun was thrust out of his mouth. Dean had taken advantage of his moment of hesitation, and pried the gun forcibly from the younger man's hands. His older brother was holding his arms to his sides after he'd tossed the gun out of Sam's reach somewhere on the motel floor. Sam felt a rush of anger. How could Dean interrupt this? Didn't he get what Sam was doing? Didn't he understand why he was doing it? He opened his eyes, glaring at Dean.
Dean was glaring back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Damnit Sam, don't do shit like that to me! I nearly had a heart attack."
"Dean, I have to do this!"
"Yea? Why? Why the fuck would you have to do something like that?"
Dean looked crazed, panicked. He had the same look on his face as the time when Sam had nearly gotten himself kidnapped by a poltergeist when he was twelve out of pure naive stupidity. He recognized his older brother's raw concern portrayed through an insurmountable anger.
"It's the only option that makes sense, Dean. Hunters like us hunt things like me." Sam replied exasperatedly. He wrenched his arms free of Dean's protective and controlling hands. There was an imprint on his forearms where Dean's fingers had held on, clutching with all his might unconsciously.
"No Sammy! No we don't! We hunt monsters, evil things! The thing that made you think like this and the thing that took everyone we ever cared about way from us! Damnit Sam, Don't let it take you away from me too!"
There was a silence as both the brothers' regained their breath. They both still glared at each other. Finally Sam pulled away turning his back to Dean on the bed, sulking.
"Don't you get it? I'm doing this to make sure he can never take me away from you Dean. I'm your Sam right now, and if I die right now that's how I'll stay. I don't want to give it the chance to make me into something evil. What if he makes me into something I would hate if I was alive? What if… what if you get in the way next and he decides you're the next one who has to die because of me?"
His voice cracked and he put a hand over his eyes, but before Dean could reply Sam kept talking.
"Everyone; mom, dad, Jess; they're all dead because they knew me. That was their only offense! The demon wanted me, and they were too close. If I'd never been born then you would probably have grown up living happily with mom and dad and any other kids they'd have in a normal happy life in Kansas. And Jess would be happily alive in college wih nothing supernatural to hurt her like it should have been."
"Sammy, don't you see how screwed up that is?"
Dean sat down next to Sam who hadn't looked up throughout his whole monologue.
"Sam, it was that son of a bitch that did all of this to us. It's not your fault he has some sick fascination with you. All I see is that this demon has been stalking you since you were born, and he did all of this to both of us. And while I hate him more than anything on earth, and I wish desperately that he never had interfered in our lives, I will never, ever wish that you weren't born. An if I'm sure of anything it's that mom, and dad, and even Jessica would say the same...Damnit Sam, you're all I have left! And I want vengeance; for our parents, for your girlfriend, and for our shattered lives. If you take your life than everything we have lived for up until now is meaningless, the job's not done yet, and you can't bail out on me man."
Sam sat on in silence, still not looking up.
"Damnit Sammy, I mean it! Look at me."
Sam merely clenched his jaw. Dean clenched his fist impatiently; he needed to see his little brother's eyes. He needed to gauge if he was okay. He was about to bark out another order in panic, but Sam reluctantly raised his gaze. The order died in his throat as grey eyes met Sam's hazel ones which were filled with a staggering degree of anguish and pain.
Sam knew Dean was right; he had to keep going, keep fighting. He had to finish what his father had started when he became a hunter to begin with. He had to kill the son of a bitch that had targeted him, for some unknown reason, and inflicted so much pain and suffering in all their lives. He couldn't leave his brother like this; he needed Sam, needed his help and just plain needed him. A fleeting flash of Jess went though his mind; he'd been that close, just a touch of a finger away from seeing his Jessica again. A wave of emotion overwhelmed him.
Dean felt a physical empathetic hurt go through his body when his little brother's eyes gazed at him in tortured abandon. As he watched, tears started leaking out of Sam's eyes.
"I just miss her so much. I miss; all of them, everything… Dean… I just…"
Sam's voice cracked, then faded off as he choked on his own words, breaking into sobs he didn't know he had in him. He closed his eyes, placing a hand over his face, ashamed at the outburst of emotion.
"I know Sammy. I know." Dean said; reaching over and rubbing circles into his brother's back. "God Sammy, me too…" Dean said his eyes watering too. He pulled Sam over and let him cry into his shoulder, keeping a hand on his back reassuringly. His heart broke to see Sammy like this, they both had to bear so much pain and grief, and it wasn't fair. That thing, that demon was going to pay for this. Nobody put his brother in this state and got away with it. But then white hot rage boiled down into a chilling fear.
"Sammy? You gotta promise me." He pushed Sam up gently to look him in the face. "Promise me you'll never think like that, never do..."
He gestured to the gun somewhere on the floor, not able to voice the possibility.
"Promise me. And I promise you I won't let him have me, or you; we're gonna get him. Alright? Just promise me you'll stick through this and we can sort it all out… Sam, if you… Without you I've got nothing left."
Sam sighed wiping his cheek with the heel of his hand. Dean's hand was squeezing his shoulder and the amount of emotion on Dean's face caused Sam a surge of guilt at what he'd just put his brother through, and what he'd almost left his brother with. He nodded weakly, sniffling once.
"Yea, Dean. I promise; I won't try to off myself again..." Dean saw the brightness in Sammy's eyes, the dim determination that wasn't there a minute ago. He glanced down then back up at Dean self-consciously, "And Dean…I'm sorry."
Dean shook his head, trying desperately to maintain his cool demeanor. He was trying to stop the tears from pouring over himself. But he steeled himself. He needed to be the big brother right now; he needed to be strong and confident and could not cry. He swallowed his emotions and put on his classic stone face.
"It's ok Sammy." His stone face crumbled, "I just… I just can't lose you too."
Now it was Sam's turn to see the torment in his brother's eyes shouting at him like a siren.
"You won't. I'm right here, and I promise. I won't do that to you again."
It was weird to be the reassuring one. Sam brought his face to Dean's level nodding confidently as he made his promise and clasping his own hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean pulled himself back together almost immediately. He couldn't do this any more he needed the situation to be stable again before he lost it. So he turned to his usual shield of humor. He smirked at Sam and Sam quirked an eyebrow in response.
"God, we're such a bunch of pansies."
Sam took his hand off Dean's shoulder and laughed, really laughed, letting out a raw bark that instantly lifted the moroseness of the situation.
"C'mon, let's go get some food, and we should warn the maid about the carpet."
"Yea ok" Sam said getting up from the bed and stretching. "Just let me go wash my face."
"Ok." Dean replied. As soon as Sam shut the door behind him the smile fell off of Dean's face. He went under the bed and retrieved the gun, stashing it in his back pocket. Then he walked slowly over to the mirror where the envelope with his name scrawled across hung limly on the mirror; forgotten. He stared at it apprehensively. Then he ripped it from the mirror and folded it up deciding to read and deal with it later.
"Ready to go?" Sam asked, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wiping his face.
"Yea, let's go." Dean said slipping the folded envelope in his pocket inconspicuously. Then they switched off the light and walked out the door, locking it behind them.