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WE FIGHT TOGETHER, WE DIE TOGETHER
Supernatural; Swan Song; Ending [Alternate Version]
An alternate version of how I personally think Swan Song should have ended. It's emotional and depressing, but it's what I picture every time I think of it.


"Bvtmon...Tabges...Babalon..."

As Sam spoke, the air around them began to pick up, blowing wildly and out on control, throwing leaves and branches in different directions. Swollen and bloodied eyes stared helplessly as Dean watched his brothers throw the rings on the floor, which slowly began to cave in, the hole appearing, to gateway to hell – the final seal now becoming the only seal. Dean wanted to stop his brother. He longed to jump forward and beg Sam to stay. If he could control Lucifer now, what's to stop him doing it until they found a way to get the son of a bitch out? Deep down though, he knew he couldn't. He knew there wasn't a way to get him out. Sam had said yes. He had made a deal with the devil and there was no going back from that. It was the point of no return.

Pain throbbed and ached and stung all over Dean from the brutal beating that he had just taken. He could feel broken bones. He could feel blood drowning his face – vessels had burst and cuts had sliced at his usually flawless flesh, but the physical pain didn't compare to the emotional pain that coursed through his body. The reassuring words of Sam echoed around in his head. It was going to be okay. But Dean knew that it wasn't: it would never be okay.

Castiel was dead. Bobby was dead. Adam, Jo, Ellen, his father, his mother...so much grief tore at his heart, lingered inside of him. He had lost so many people and now, he was about to lose the one thing, the one person who kept him going. He was about to lose his baby brother and nothing would ever be okay after that. Sam kept him fighting. After everything they had been through together, Sam was always the one that gave Dean a reason to continue. He kept him on his feet; he kept him alive and Dean wished he'd given him more credit when he'd had the chance rather than always putting him down. There was so much he regretted right now, but he knew that he couldn't change any of it, just like he couldn't change what was about to happen. The apocalypse had started. Lucifer was in full power and the only person that could stop it was Sam. He'd rather his brother sacrificed himself out of love and goodness, than watch Michael kill him.

The ground had completely caved in now, a horrible noise whirling around them and making his ears want to bleed. Sam was stepping closer and closer to the hole. It was obvious by the look on his face that he knew this was what he had to do and he looked strangely okay with it. He looked...redeemed. As if he knew that any second now, he was going to jump into that pit of darkness and it was going to make up for all of his sins. It was going to make up for him betraying his brother. It was going to make up for him rolling around in the bed sheets with a demon. It was going to make up for the fact that he was the one who had released Lucifer in the first place and caused all this destruction; all this chaos. He was going to save the world and most of all, he was going to save Dean. If he had to die to do that, Sam would do it. He'd rather die a thousand times over than watch Dean suffer any more.

"Sam!" A voice bellowed over all the noise. It was neither Sam nor Dean. Both hands turned, their eyes falling upon the body of Adam, though knowing it was Michael. "It's not going to end this way! Step back!"

Sam was through though; he wasn't taking orders from anyone. He was doing this. His head shook defiantly. "You're going to have to make me!" He yelled. He needed to do this – this wasn't Michael's destiny anymore and he wasn't going to let Adam do that. Sam and Dean might not have had much time to truly get to know their other brother, but he was still that – their brother. Sam didn't know if Adam had wanted this or if he had somehow been forced. He would probably never know, but one thing he did know, was he was not about to allow Adam to kill his own flesh and blood. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a vessel – was Adam inside there now, trying to fight against Michael but unable to find the strength?

"I have to fight my brother, Sam! Here and now! It's my destiny!" Michael yelled.

Sam almost pitied the son of a bitch – his whole existence, his whole destiny, was to slaughter his brother under the orders of his father? His nostrils flared as he struggled to breathe, the force of the air around them getting stronger and stronger by the second. His jacket flung around in different directions and his hair got caught in his eyes several times. He turned away from Michael, turning to look at Dean instead. His brother looked so injured and Sam hated that he caught it. Their eyes met. Sam could see Dean was silently pleading with him to find another way, suddenly regretting that he'd ever agreed to this plan. Sam smiled at him reassuringly. His head nodded. He wanted Dean to understand that he had to do this. He wanted Dean to know that he was okay with doing this; that it was the right thing. And as they stared at each other a little bit longer, Dean nodded his head once too, as if he got it. As if he finally knew this was how it was always going to end, he had just never wanted to admit it.

Sam closed his eyes. He let the feeling of the wind embrace him. He let the feeling of redemption surround him. He stepped back once...twice...and then suddenly a hand snatched hold of his arm. His eyes snapped out and he struggled against Michael's firm grip, but the angel was adamant and determined. Fingertips and nails dug hard into his arm and Sam's fists clenched. He felt his body get flung away from the pit and his back slammed down hard against the ground. "I have to do this, Sam! You will not interfere with my father's work!" Michael yelled over the noise as he stalked towards him. Sam crawled backwards, moved to get back onto his feet, but before he had the chance, his eyes caught sight of Bobby's dead body, cold and lifeless eyes staring at him. A lump formed in his throat. He felt sick and he froze on the spot – he had done that. Bobby...he'd killed him.

A fist slammed across his jaw; knocking him out of his shock and Sam realised Michael was upon him, fighting him. "I know you're in there, brother!" He yelled, trying to coax Lucifer back out. Sam could feel the angel within him struggling to get free. He could hear Lucifer's hiss of insults and taunts. It was so hard to keep control, but somehow he managed. He clung on with every remaining piece of strength he had left within him, his jaw clenching in frustration and every muscle in his body tensed. He didn't want to move, didn't want to lift himself up from the ground. If he slipped, he lost it for one second, Lucifer would be back. Another punch from Michael, this one harder than the last and Sam's neck snapped backwards, his head cracking down on the floor, blurring his vision slightly. A foot collided with his ribs. He had to get back to the pit; he had to somehow get back to the edge of that hole so he could jump in, even if it meant dragging Michael with him. Dean would always come before Adam, as cruel as it sounded. Lifting his head up, he tried to push himself to his feet but slipped back down.

Dean felt so weak from his beating, he felt so ready to slip into unconsciousness and it made him feel so useless. As he sat there on the floor, trying to force his eyes to stay open, all he could do was watch as Michael attacked his brother. What if he forced Sam out? What if he brought Lucifer back to the surface and pushed little Sammy back in for good? His eyebrows knitted down into a frown and he parted his lips, tried to shout at Michael to stop, but he struggled to talk. He went to stand up but fell back down with a grunt. He heard his brother's ribs crack and determination continued to feel him. As painful as it was, he finally dragged himself to his feet, somewhat hunched over. "Oi!" He yelled loudly. Michael stopped in mid punch and spun around to face him with a frown. "Get the hell away from my brother you miserable son of a bitch." Dean growled.

"Dean, don't." Sam didn't want his brother getting dragged into this fight but Dean ignored him, keeping dangerous eyes locked on Michael.

"Dean, this is the way it has to be. This is the way it's always had to be. You are not a part of this anymore. You are not involved in this fight. You are over; you're nothing but a spineless little worm that could be and will be squashed if you do not back off. You are no longer a part of this story; you are nothing." He growled out. His hand lifted and he clenched it into a fist. Dean felt his throat close up. He couldn't breathe. His hands came up to his neck and instantly, he stumbled back down, crumbling to his knees as he choked, desperately trying to get oxygen into his lungs. He knew this feeling. Zachariah had done this before – he was bleeding internally from the inside, he was haemorrhaging and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"DEAN!" Sam bellowed. Lucifer was still whispering to him, but the choking gasps of his brother were much longer. His nostrils flared. The temptation to let Lucifer come forward and fry this son of a bitch was tempting, but he would not give in to that. Instead, his arm stretched to the side. He whispered a silent apology to Bobby, before slowly picking up the stray rifle that was beside his lifeless body. His fingers curled around it and silently, he lifted himself to his feet. "Hey!" He yelled. Michael spun around and before he had a chance to respond, Sam swung the rifle around and smashed it around the side of Michael's face. Michael's head snapped to one side, but that was it. Sam should've known he needed more strength than that. Throwing the rifle to the side, he tried to use his hands, snatching at Michael's shirts. He tried to lift him, but it was a struggle. Michael merely rolled his eyes as if he was bored.

The angel lifted his hands, curling them around Sam's wrists. "Don't you get it, Sam? You're not the power; he is. You can't fight me. And you won't be able to fight him for much longer." He pulled Sam's hands off of him and then punched him, knocking Sam back down to the floor. "This is not your war. It's ours! Stop trying to interfere! You can't change what is written in stone!"

Sam grunted as he collided with the floor. Lucifer's whispers got louder. Michael's voice got quieter. And then his ears picked up on painful chokes and his eyes widened. He pushed Lucifer further back as his head lifted, staring over at his brother, horrified at the sight. Moving on his hands and knees, he crawled loyally to his brother's side. "Dean...Dean!" His hand lifted and he pressed it to his brother's shoulder. He needed to get in that pit – he needed to end all of this now. But then, how was he supposed to stop Michael from rotting his brother's insides?

"Sammy..." Dean coughed blood as he spoke, his hand lifting to place over Sam's. His head lifted and their eyes met.

"I don't think I can fight him, Dean. Not without..." Sam's voice trailed off. He knew Dean would understand; he couldn't beat Michael without Lucifer.

"No. No, you keep that son of a bitch trapped in there. You stay with me, Sam. St –"Dean broke off into more coughs and his grip on Sam's hand got tighter. He choked, gasped before finally managing to speak once more. He looked up and their eyes made a connection once more – both of them were close to tears, both of them looked so defeated, so broken. "Do you trust me, Sammy?"

"What?" Sam breathed out. He glanced away to check up on Michael, only to see that the angel was stalking towards them with a deadly look in his eyes. He quickly looked back at Dean. "You know I do. Yeah...I trust you with my life, Dean."

Dean nodded. "I want...I want you to listen to me. We can do this together...We're Winchesters, Sammy. We can take this son of a bitch down and we can end this." He winced and took a pause, but knew he had to hurry. "We let him get close. Wait till he's near the pit...then we run like hell. We rush him – tackle him...we get that son of a bitch into that pit and we go down with him. Two birds...one stone..."

Sam didn't understand at first. It took a couple of seconds and then it finally settled in; Dean was suggesting they both tackle Michael, which would mean...Dean would go into the pit as well, not just Sammy. "No. No, Dean...you can't...I won't let you." He would not let his brother sacrifice himself to clean up another one of his messes – Dean had been to hell for him before, he was not going to do it a second time. "You made a promise – "

"Sammy, I'm a guy. We don't keep promises." Dean choked out. The pain was beginning to grow unbearable, but he refused to give up. Michael was getting closer. His head fell forward and he groaned in pain, his forehead resting on Sam's shoulder. Michael was talking now, telling them how they couldn't win, how he would destroy them if he had to, that they had been nothing but pains in his and his father's ass. The brothers didn't listen though. With another grunt, Dean lifted his head. His hand moved away from Sammy's and he placed it on his brother's shoulder instead. "We're brothers, Sam." He growled out. "We fight together...we die together. You said yourself, you can't do this alone. I can't do it alone."

Sam could tell by the tone of Dean's voice that he was serious. Dean was a stubborn mother fucker. There would be no changing his mind. Sam's lower lip trembled slightly and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Both of them squeezed each other's shoulder and finally, Sam nodded. "We fight together." He choked out – he wasn't choking on blood though, more on emotion. He didn't say the other sentence though; he couldn't bring himself to admit that in seconds, they would be dead.

Michael was getting closer. Dean and Sam turned to watch him, just staring. Sam looked angry. Dean looked determined. The pit was growling and groaning, like a stomach that wanted feeding. "Count of three..." Dean coughed out. "One..." He kept a firm grip on Sam's shoulder so he couldn't try to go a second earlier. "Two..." They both prepared themselves to rise. They fell at first, but they supported each other, clung to each other. "Three."

And that was when it happened. It all happened so fast that when Chuck saw it in his head to keep a note of it on paper, he barely managed to have time to take note of every single detail. They rose – they helped each to their feet and they raced forward, side by side. Sam was yelling, letting out all his anger in a loud noise. Dean was silent though, like a predator rushing its prey. Michael looked surprised and stopped walking, though didn't back away, too confused about what they were doing. Dean grabbed his left arm. Sam grabbed his right. It took them all the strength they could muster. Dean almost stumbled over his own feet, but he managed to hold his ground. Michael struggled, but he was too caught off guard to react properly. He had been so close to the pit. With one large tug, all three of them went over. They tumbled down into the darkness, falling into the pit and disappearing. As they fell, Sam and Dean might not have been able to see each other, but they could feel each other. They could sense each other and they felt strangely safe. They knew they were going to a bad place, they were going to hell...but they were going together and somehow, that was comforting. Truth is, this was the way it was always going to go.

This story was never about angels and demons. It was never about whether God wanted the apocalypse or not. It was never even about Michael and Lucifer, not really. All those fights, all those battles won and lost and all those fallen lives of innocents...after everything that had occurred over the past few years...at the end of it all, it was always about two brothers – two brothers willing to fight for each other and die for each other. It was always about the Winchesters and the family bond that could never be severed; not even by the devil and his brother.