Sam sat on his bed, hard liquor (something of which he hardly partook…that was Dean's coping method not his) in his hand, socks on his feet, legs stretched out, heels just off of the bed, television on playing some happy go lucky Christmas fare. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and his brother, who didn't trust him anymore, who was angry with him for betraying him, for lying to him lie on the bed closest to the door, sound asleep. Sam shook his head attempting to clear away the thoughts of Dean's mistrust, but it simply wouldn't go away. Sam knew that it wasn't simply a betrayal, it was the ultimate betrayal, Sam had trusted a demon over his own brother, the brother who had been there for him his entire life, who had sacrificed everything for Sam including his soul. The thoughts flurried in his head despite his best attempts to quiet them. So, Sam downed the rest of the liquor in the glass, grimaced at the burn in his throat and belly, and when that didn't quiet the thoughts in his head he poured himself another glass.

As he downed the second glass he contemplated suicide. He would if he could. He would, he would take himself out of the world, would destroy himself because truly he didn't deserve to live anymore. He had started the apocalypse, he had hurt everyone he had ever loved, and those he hadn't hurt, he had been instrumental in their deaths, and now he was the vessel for the ultimate evil—Satan himself. Even the most deranged psycho on Death Row wasn't as horrible of a human being as Sam was.

But no needle would take Sam out of the world, Satan wanted his skin too much, he would simply fix it, and wait patiently for Sam to say yes, which Lucifer was sure he would, and sometimes, Sam wondered if the only person who didn't think he would say yes was himself. Dean had all but said that he knew Sam would say yes, and Bobby might not say it but Sam knew he thought it, and Cass, well, sometimes Sam was pretty sure Cass didn't even like him. So why wouldn't he expect the 'boy with the demon blood', as he had unceremoniously put it upon their first meeting, do what was expected of him and allow Lucifer inside, allow Lucifer to rage upon the world using his face, his body, his hands, his being….Sam downed the third glass, grimaced at the expected burn and put the glass on the nightstand in between the brothers.

Sam watched Dean breathe rhythmically, and shook his head. Dean deserved to live, Dean deserved to have a brother that wasn't like him, who wasn't so…tainted, corrupted, diseased….Dean deserved a family, and he deserved to have everything he ever wanted. He would have it too if it wasn't for Sam. Sam sighed and got inside the bed, turned off the television, pulled the covers up, and turned off the light.


"Sam. Sam….wake up." A soft feminine voice whispered. Sam's eyes opened, and he was instantly alert. He whipped around and had a knife at the throat of a beautiful young woman before she could blink her eyes.

She looked down at the knife and gave a small smile. "Sam, that wont' do anything to me. I'm not a demon."

"I'm at the point I don't care what you guys are anymore. I just want all of you dead."

"I don't think we are the only people that you want dead."

Sam blinked quickly and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about." She reached up and put her hand on his wrist and slowly pulled his knife away from her alabaster skin. "You won't need that Sam. I promise." She pulled it out of his hand and put it on the nightstand next to the empty glass. "I heard your thoughts earlier. I heard that you wished you were dead."

"Great. Now you people can hear my thoughts. This just gets better and better." He sighed.

"No. I'm not one of "those people" I'm yours."

Sam snorted. "So, what? You drew the short straw and you get assigned to me?"

"I didn't' get the short straw. I begged and begged for this assignment."

Sam was taken aback. He pushed up on the bed, glanced over at his brother, made sure that he was still sleeping peacefully, and turned back to the woman sitting on the corner of his bed. "Why in the hell would anyone want to be my anything? It doesn't exactly help the lifespan."

"It is rare that my kind get to be assigned to a man like you."

"A cursed man?" He asked wryly.

She rolled her eyes, and scooted closer to him, and ran a hand down the length of his face, "No, someone like you….someone kind, loving, loyal…" Sam stopped her there.

"I am anything but loyal."

"You are loyal."

"Says who? In case you missed the latest issue of Hunter's Quarterly I've started the apocalypse by betraying my brother. That's anything but loyal."

"Sam, you wanted to do right by your brother. you wanted to take out all who had hurt him, who made him cry, who made him cry out in his sleep. You wanted to fix all of that. You did what you thought was right."

'The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Sam said. That phrase repeated through his head almost every moment of every day, and it simply bubbled out of his mouth. The beautiful woman's eyes softened and she pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

"Sam, a girl like me waits centuries to get someone like you, to be able to be your guide and your helper. Trust me, that you are a good man."

Sam's eyes narrowed and he asked, "What are you?"

"I'm an angel." Sam sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose any and all trust that was occurring between the two vanished in an instant. Angels only meant trouble, manipulation, and pain they weren't ones to pump you up unless there was something in it for them, and honestly Sam didn't want to know what they wanted from him now.

"Look. I'm not saying yes to Lucifer." Sam started tiredly. This song and dance was getting old. "And you can't manipulate me to get Dean to say yes to Michael. So, just go away."

She smiled softly. "I'm not apart of that. I'm not one of those angels. Let them fight their own wars, and let them fight amongst each other. That isn't of my concern. I'm here to protect those that are under my care. You are under my care."

"Well bang up job you've done so far."

She smiled. "The older you get the more you talk like your brother."

"Whatever. Just leave me alone."

"And leave you to your suicidal thoughts."

"A lot of good they will do me."

Her eyes softened, and tears pooled in them. "You really want to die, and stay dead?"

"Yeah. I really do. I wish to hell that I was never born. Dean would have been so much better off. He would have a life now. He wouldn't be so…" Sam looked at his brother, watched as he slept on a pillow that was so flat that Dean had to sleep with his arms underneath it, covered with a thread bare blanket, on a bed that dipped in the center so badly that Dean was struggling to hold onto the edge of the mattress, and with a back so tense you could see the muscles through his t-shirt. "Dean deserves better than this." Sam said softly. "He deserves to have a family, a good bed to sleep on, a woman that loves him, and friends. He deserves all of that. And if I hadn't been born he would have all of that. He wouldn't be stuck in this life, wouldn't have sacrificed everything, wouldn't have sacrificed his soul and suffered hell before he turned 30. He would be surrounded by love and people." Sam sighed heavily and his body sagged with the exhalation.

Sam turned sad eyes to the guardian angel sitting beside him. "So, you see, I think not only about dying, but I wish that I had never been born. The world wouldn't be in the danger it is in right now if I hadn't been born."

"You really believe that don't you Sam?"

Sam nodded, eyes watery, "Yeah. I really believe that."

"You have no idea how wrong you are."

"I'll take my chances sister."

She took his hand. "Come with me Sam. I'll show you your wish."

Sam pulled his hand away from her. "I'm tired. I'm so tired of the games, the time travel, the alternate universes. I just want to be here to protect my brother. I haven't done a bang up job of it lately…"

"If that's what you wish Sam."

"Just go away." In a soft glow of light the woman on the edge of his bed disappeared. Sam took a deep breath and snuggled down into the covers, pulled his legs up so they wouldn't dangle off of the bed, faced his brother's back, and tried to get some sleep.