Hello all... Kind of in a dark and dreary place today so here is something I wrote to keep me company. This is an alternate ending to Season 1. To any who read, I hope you will enjoy. Feel free to drop me a line if you feel so inclined. Take care and thank you for having a look.


His eyes dart from Dean, who is currently bleeding all over the place on the damn floor, to his dad, who is currently begging him to shoot. His father, the man he just managed to find again, is writhing on the floor, imploring his youngest son to put a bullet in his heart. There is something so utterly and inherently wrong with that.

He can't think. His dad is screaming at him now, yelling that he can't hold on to the bastard demon for much longer. John Winchester pleads, cries and screams for Sam to end the torment; to end the search, the hunt he has been on for the last 22 years, and his son doesn't know what the hell he is supposed to do.

He looks to his brother for help, to tell him what he should do because Dean will know; because Dean always knows what to do. Sam needs him to tell him the answer because he is being torn apart by indecision, because he has no idea what the right choice is.

Dean, the foundation that has kept this dysfunctional family from caving in, looks like a tiny child in the midst of the chaos around him. He is staring at Sam but his eyes look so vacant and dull that the younger brother isn't even sure he sees him. Okay, looks like he may have to take the lead on this one.

His father's pained voice makes him turn back and face him again. That yellow eyed son of a bitch is right there in front of him, battling for control of his father's body, and Sam is holding the one thing in creation that can kill him. Stone. Cold. Dead. One little twitch of his finger and it would finally be over. The hunt would be done. No more searching for justice or revenge. Both of those desires could be served up on a damn platter right here, right now.

His eyes water as the drone of his father's anguish digs into his head. But come on, this is his dad. Sure, he has only known the damaged version; the version who watched the love of his life burn in front of his eyes while he stood helpless to stop it; the version who became so obsessed with revenge that it consumed every single part of him and seeped out to consume his brother as well. If he wouldn't have gotten out, it would have undoubtedly consumed him as well.

He almost chuckles at that. Hell, he is already consumed. He has been sucked into this vortex of hate and revenge right along with the other Winchester men. So no, he really isn't any different than his dad. He wants the demon dead as much as John Winchester does. That bastard has taken so much from him, from his father, and from Dean, that the damn decision almost makes itself.

He sighs long and deep as his gaze focuses in on the man at his feet; as he focuses in on his father.

Shit. He can't do it. He can't do this. Not this. He can't kill his own father. He can't kill his own family. He knows Dean feels the same and will tell him so. What he needs right now is to hear his brother say the words; he needs Dean to tell him family is all that matters.

He looks to his brother again and gasps at the amount of blood that continues to pump out of his body to paint the floor below in a sickening crimson shade. Dean's mouth is moving but he can't hear over the constant drone of his name being called out in more and more desperation to just do it, to just kill the damn demon already.

He steps away from the weight of his decision and kneels at his brother's side. Jesus, there seems to be more blood on the floor than in his body now. Whatever he is going to do, he needs to do it fast because Dean is running out of time.

He leans over until his ear hovers over his brother's lips; until he hears through wheezes and pain filled breaths what he hoped would be confirmation that family does not kill family, no matter what. His eyes widen and his blood turns cold as he hears what he never thought would be uttered past Dean's lips.

He stands up and stares in shock at his wounded brother. No. This is wrong. Dean was supposed to tell him to stop thinking about it; to stop considering it and just put the damn gun away. He sees his brother mouth the words to him again and nod his head to confirm that what he spoke was not a figment of Sam's imagination. He heard him right.

He can hear the pounding of his heart, the increase of his breath, and a flood of weakness flow through his frame. He turns his back on his brother, walks the short distance to get to the other man in the room, and closes his eyes. He hears a faded version of familiar pleads from his father swirl around him but most of all, the words of his brother echo in his head.

"D..do it S'm… shoot the… bastrd… end it… for all of us…"

He slowly opens his eyes, lifts the Colt, and sees his father smile.


The End.