Takes place at the end of 7x02 in that abandoned warehouse where Dean tries to convince Sam he's real. This is an alternative to that scene, so I've messed with the dialogue a bit.
I have a fifty-fifty shot.
The two Deans stare at me, waiting for me to snap out of it. Waiting for me to figure out which of them is real. I don't remember how I ever thought it was a good idea to let things get this bad. I don't remember the exact moment I lost my grip on reality. All I know is that I'm too far gone now. It's too late to bring me back, no matter how hard my big brother tries.
Because I don't even know if he exists anymore.
The gun wavers in my hand, and both Deans tense at the same time. Their movements are eerily similar, both expressions filled with love and just a hint of fear. It's the exact expression I'd expect him to be wearing right now. And I can't choose between the two. I don't know which one is genuine. The one beside me lets out a long, sad sigh.
"Come on Sammy," he says, "It's me okay? It's Dean. Let's get you home. Please." He grabs for my coat, but I whirl away from him, swinging the gun towards him and raising it to his chest. I know I won't miss.
The only question is, if I pull the trigger, who will I kill? Lucifer? Or is it really Dean?
Is any of this even real at all?
The gun shakes, and I realize it's because I'm trembling. Dean-number-two, the one closest to the entrance of the warehouse, takes a step towards me now.
"Come on. You don't know what's real?" He asks. "Look man I've been to Hell. Okay, I know a thing or two about torture. Enough to know that it feels different than the pain of this regular, stupid, crappy...this..."
"No...no how can you know that for sure?" I blurt out, hating the way my voice breaks on the words. Hating how weak I sound.
"Sammy?" Dean-number-one asks, cutting across Dean-number-two as if he can't hear the same words I can. "Please Sam, you gotta believe me man. There's no one there. Come on Sammy. Let me take you home." He grabs for my arm again, and this time I don't resist as much. I realize there's a reason he's talking over the continued pleading of Dean-number-two. It's because Dean-number-two isn't real.
"Sam, lemme see your hand," Dean-number-two orders, holding out his own.
You're not real. I know you're not real.
The shot rings out like a firecracker, reverberating around the room as it hits its target. I turn to face the Dean who stands beside me, the real one. I've done it. I've finally done it. It should be over now.
"I did it Dean, I think he's really g..."
I watch as the man I knew to be my brother wavers before me, shimmering like a projection. His smile is wicked now, a grin my real brother has never worn. Horrified, I watch as he molds into the form of the Devil himself.
And then he disappears completely.
I stare at the space where he was, where Dean was, waiting for him to come back to me. To tell me that this is all just a joke. Because I know, I know my brother. And he was there. Right there. But the space in front of me is still empty. Nonononono.
I turn back to face Dean-number-two. The one who now falls to his knees, blood seeping steadily from beneath his shaking fingers. I watch as red pools around him, mesmerized by the hollow sound each drop makes as it hits the concrete. Finally, my eyes are drawn to his face, the one contorted in pain. He stares at me, disbelieving. But there's something else there too, something in his expression. Behind the pain and the sadness and the betrayal, I see forgiveness. I see Dean.
Oh God. What have I done?
I sprint for my brother, my footsteps pounding across the concrete in time with the panicked drum of my heartbeat. The sound fills my ears, makes it impossible to focus on all but one thing.
A fifty-fifty shot, and I chose wrong.
I'm stopping there because I'm evil. Also because it allows you to decide whether or not Dean survives. Wow I'm horrible. Sorry...not really sorry.
Reviews are lovely and so are you. Thanks for reading.