[Fanfic] Such a Beautiful Day

[shuufleur93]

Title: Such a Beautiful Day
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 8032
Type: OS
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Additional Tags: Angst, Unhappy Ending, Sam Winchester-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 07 Finale, Hurt No Comfort
Summary: When Sam is offered the choice to trade his life for his brother’s, he doesn’t hesitate, he says yes despite the consequences.
Notes: Fill for the trope_bingo Round 9 (Card). Trope: Twenty-four hours to live (Free Space).
AO3 Link: Such a Beautiful Day

I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life - Corazon Aquino

THEN

Sam gasped and fell to his knees, his vision fading to a blurry gray. His whole body was throbbing with pain, as if something was pulling, pulling, pulling, tearing him inside out. He closed his eyes, bowing his head, and took a deep breath to make the dizziness and nausea disappear.

It didn’t. Not really. The discomfort lingered.

The hunter passed a shaking hand in his hair, watching, hoping, fearing. Please, please, please, let it work. It was his last resort. If this couldn’t save Dean, nothing else could. A sob almost broke free at the thought. If this didn’t work, he would have done this for nothing. He would have sacrificed himself for lies.

As if an answer to his prayer, the wind picked up and the air crackled around him. It looked blurry like a heat haze. With a grimace, Sam tried to stand as a portal blinked into existence and yawned, widening every passing second. Sam only had a glimpse of a gray sky, a gray ground, and a gray forest before two people were thrown across. The portal closed as suddenly as it had opened.

Sam held his breath, waiting, bracing, wishing. It was his last plot twist, his revelation and his conclusion. Sam took a step forward. He couldn’t see if this was his brother; it was too dark. For the life of him, he couldn’t…

One of the two shadows started to move. It stood and turned around slowly, the darkness following the movement like skin. Sam couldn’t clearly see him, but he knew it wasn’t Dean. Too short, too stocky. Sam just didn’t recognize him. The man saw him and stared what felt like an eternity, studying him, cataloging every detail. The way he held himself reminded Sam of a predator stalking his prey. The hunter gripped the gun he kept in his waistband and waited for something to happen. Anything.

And finally: the other person groaned and muttered, sitting up and massaging their head. Relief washed over Sam. This was his brother; he’d recognize the muttering anywhere, anytime. He was about to throw up.

“Dean?” Sam called instead, wary and unsure. Life had taught him to be suspicious.

His brother stilled and slowly turned his head towards him.

“Sam…” Dean trailed off, surprised as he looked around, taking in the new landscape. “What happened?”

Sam marginally relaxed his stance, a smile starting to stretch his lips. He took a step forward, expecting Dean to meet him half-way, but his brother stayed where he was. Worse, he got closer to the other man, keeping a safe distance between him and Sam. The latter hated it.

“Where— Are we still in Purgatory? Are you?” Dean asked then, worry with some underlying anger clouding his voice.

Sam couldn’t talk, couldn’t open his mouth and say the reassuring words that spun in his head. I’ve saved you, Dean. You’re not in Purgatory anymore. I’ve saved you.

“No, Brother. We’re not. Look,” the other man suddenly said, pointing at the dusty road, at the motel farther away, at the stars, numerous in the clear night sky.

Sam looked, too, despite himself. He followed the man’s finger, wondering what he saw that would differentiate Purgatory from Earth. Selfishly, he hated it when he saw the wonder, the naked relief that came on his brother’s face and realizing he wasn’t the one to bring it out. This man he didn’t know, who came from Purgatory, seemed to be more reassuring than seeing and hearing Sam. How? Sam did everything he could to save him, and yet, Dean looked for confirmation with the other man, the unknown variable; his new “brother”.

Emotions running wild, Sam tried to calm himself. The spell took so much out of him, he didn’t know what to think or feel. He shouldn’t be angry at Dean. He didn’t know what Sam had done to bring him back, and Sam would keep it a secret until his dying breath. Ignorance is bliss, right? He thought bitterly. Dean didn’t need to know what was looming over his brother’s head.

Once reassured he was on Earth, Dean finally looked back at Sam.

“Sammy?”

Like a siren chant, Sam walked to his brother with a tired smile. The unidentified man’s eyes followed him, sending shivers along his back. Without wasting any more time, Dean took Sam in his arms with a strong hug. Sam gripped his brother tightly, burying his head in his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he whispered.

Dean answered by tightening the hug before breaking it.

“Come on,” Dean said, his voice casual but his eyes on the verge of tears. “Let’s celebrate that with burgers and beers.”

Sam nodded and smiled, a bit out of it. Though, before he could move again, his legs gave out from under him. Dean shouted, worried, gripping his arms.

Come on, Sam, those are your last hours with your brother, a voice said in his head, sounding suspiciously like dear old Lucifer. Don’t you want to make the most of it?

He did. He wanted to be with his brother before the end. But he fell to the ground, his head falling further and further away from him.

Was it time already?

❖

Sam woke up shivering, too warm and too cold, and sore all over. He waited for the nausea to pass, his fingers gripping the sheets covering him. Someone switched on the light and Sam groaned, hiding his face inside the sheets, wet with sweat.

“Please, not the light, not the light,” he begged, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Alright, alright, shh, Sam, it’s OK, I’ll switch off the light, don’t worry,” Dean’s voice said, and Sam couldn’t remember why it was so strange to hear his brother, to feel his presence next to him now.

The light decreased. Sam raised his head to look at Dean with a blurry vision. His brother sat on the bed and held a glass in his hand.

“What time is it?” Sam asked, speech slurred.

“5 p.m.,” Dean answered, “Come on, little brother, drink this, you’ll feel better.”

Dean leaned towards him and touched his face, first his cheek, his forehead, then under his neck. His hand was cool against his skin, soothing a little the raging heat still burning through his body.

Dean helped him up and held the glass in front of him. Sam tried to take the glass, but his hand shook too much. He couldn’t grab it, let alone drink it, so Dean took it back and put the rim of the glass on Sam’s lips, tilting it enough to let the liquid run down in Sam’s mouth.

Sam made a face at the medicinal taste, but at his brother’s concerned look, he drank everything diligently. He grimaced when the last drop of the bitter glass content fell in his throat. His brother, watching him intently, put the glass on the night table. Sam recognized his brother’s expression.

“Sam, we need to talk.”

And there it was.

“About what?”

Trying to act innocent, knowing full well Dean would never buy it.

“How you saved me, us.”

Ding, ding, ding! Dean just won the jackpot.

Something heavy dropped in Sam’s stomach. He had expected the question, but he hoped Dean would have waited a little longer before asking the tough questions. Sam had to lie for everyone’s sakes.

Swallowing hard, he repeated the words he rehearsed before, “After you’ve… disappeared, I read about Purgatory. A lot.” Sam smiled sadly, thinking about the days spent sleep deprived, hunger forgotten, just to find something. “I’ve discovered other ways to get in Purgatory. There was a spell that could locate a way, and voilà!”

What he didn’t tell him was that he basically gave his life to open the portal and bring Dean back. His brother’s eyes darkened. He was naturally suspicious. It wasn’t the first time Sam had lied to him, but it would certainly be the last time.

“How did you pull us out?” Dean almost looked furious. “Another spell, I bet.”

“Harmless,” Sam replied, trying to downplay it. “I just needed to find the right point of entry to attract you there.”

“And where is that spell?” Dean asked lowly, the anger barely abated.

Sam hesitated. This wasn’t how he imagined their reunion.

“Sam, tell me where you found the spells?”

“Dean…”

“Please, Sam, tell me. Now.”

“I...” Sam paused, frantically searching for something to say, anything before Dean decided for him. “I found the book at Bobby’s,” he finally said. “I don’t have it here.”

His brother looked at him silently, blank face and downturn mouth, his silence heavy with unsaid accusations.

Dean’s judgment sticking to his skin, Sam continued, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing… I’m not in danger if that’s what you’re asking. I just need a little rest.” He smiled weakly, patting Dean’s hand on the bed.

His brother’s eyes didn’t stray from him.

“Sam—”

“I’m… tired, Dean,” Sam interrupted before Dean launched himself. “I’d like to go back to sleep. Please.”

Sam wasn’t ready for the confrontation yet (or ever), but he really was tired. Thankfully, Dean didn’t insist.

 “Alright, Sammy. I’ll wake you up for breakfast. You need to eat, you’re too thin,” he said, eyeing his brother disapprovingly.

He got up, switching off the light before going to the door.

“Feel better, little brother.”

Sam nodded automatically, not really listening anymore. When the other hunter closed the door, he let out a sigh.

Well, it could have gone worse. Sam only delayed the fight that would surely come at some point. But at least, now, he could relax and let himself drift away to sleep, knowing he had succeeded in his last mission on Earth.

❖

The next time Sam woke up, he still felt bone tired but better in some ways, relieved even. He was lying in the bed of a simple motel room. He sat up and got hit with sudden dizziness. He stopped moving, closed his eyes and breathed in and out to let the nausea pass. Once it passed, he looked around expecting to see his brother, but the motel room was empty.

The clock on the night table reads 8. His brain automatically counted the hours for him (16) but before he could wallow more, the door opened, startling him. The name of his brother died on his lips when he realized it wasn’t Dean coming in, but the other man.

Sam groped under his pillow, expecting to find his gun only to remember he hadn’t had time to stash it yesterday because he lost consciousness. Dean must have put it somewhere else. He was defenseless against a man (a creature?) from Purgatory.

“You could have knocked,” Sam growled, jaw clenched, ready to get out of bed when he realized he wasn’t dressed. He made a face, hating the fact he was in a vulnerable position with somebody he didn’t know and trust.

When the other man stayed where he was, eyes on Sam. The latter said gruffly, “Could you at least close the door?”

Finally, the man did close the door but didn’t move from his spot.

“Can you turn around?” Sam asked, annoyed, getting tense, “I’d like to dress.”

The bearded man raised an eyebrow but complied. Sam repressed a sigh and hunted down his clothes, hoping Dean had left them close by. He spotted his pants on a chair and found a clean T-shirt in his duffel bag near his bed. Sam dressed as quickly as his unsteady body let him. If he had to face this new friend of Dean, he’d like to do it standing and correctly dressed.

“So…” Sam started with a smirk, trying to sound confident. “Who are you?”

The man turned back to him and stared at him, slightly tilting his head. The gaze unnerved Sam. The man then slowly walked towards him and stopped just a few inches from Sam. He was shorter than him, but Sam didn’t know if the chill that ran down his spine was from the little he was wearing, the spell’s aftermath or what the man projected.

“Let’s talk,” the man murmured.

Sam snorted.

“Maybe you can start with your name.”

The man observed him calmly, then, “You can call me Benny.”

He gestured towards the table and the chairs.

“Let’s sit down. We’re going to be more comfortable to talk.”

He was already heading towards the chairs. He sat down and watched Sam expectantly. The hunter raised his eyebrows, not wanting to follow his lead at first.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Sam asked, finally relenting and taking a seat in front of Benny, but not too close, after long, painful seconds. “Something on your mind?”

He smirked in a desperate attempt not to show weakness.

“I should be the one asking you that. There’s something wrong with you, I can smell it.”

Sam laughed bitterly. The guy didn’t even know him, met him just a few hours ago and he already could tell Sam wasn’t alright. It was like the taint never really left him.

“Right, you can smell it. And what are you exactly?” At Benny’s silence, Sam continued, “That’s what I thought. Are you scared to tell me?”

For the first time, Benny’s lips twitched, brightening his face with amusement.

“Scared of you? Somewhat. I’m more scared of your brother, though. I didn’t protect him in Purgatory for you to send him to a bad place now.”

“It’s between me and Dean.”

“Except that it’s not,” Benny replied, leaning forward, baring his teeth, “It’s my business when I know it’ll destroy your brother.” Before Sam could protest, Benny continued, “Either you’re stupid or you’re lying to yourself and your brother. That spell didn’t come free. Magic is never free, not here, nor there. You had to give something up in return.”

For a moment, his eyes glinted with the promise of a world of hurt. Sam bit his tongue to avoid saying anything that could trigger him. He started to understand where Benny’s loyalty lay, and it wasn’t with Sam. Benny’s expression shifted to something a little more neutral.

“But you’re not stupid according to Dean, and I’m fairly sure you know what’s gonna happen to you. Do you realize what it’s gonna do to your brother?”

Sam swallowed with difficulty. Somehow, Benny touched on the thing Sam feared most. He knew what was going to happen. He’d seen it at Cold Oak. He remembered the rehab and his rescue from Hell. Dean would do anything to save Sam, including giving his life for him.

“Dean is saved, that’s all that matters,” Sam said, almost choking on the words.

He needed to focus on that. This was the one good thing coming out of this. Nothing else mattered.

“Then remember,” Benny replied, “whatever happens, I’ll be there when the consequences of your actions unravel.”

The man stood then and took his leave. It was so sudden, Sam almost flinched. When the door closed, Sam took his face into his hands and closed his eyes. Benny was right. Dean was going to lose it when he learned what Sam had done. One comforting thought was that Dean couldn’t throw his life away to save Sam this time around.

With that in mind, his sense of panic abated with a newfound determination to see this through even if it might hurt more than he had thought initially.

At a later point, Sam stepped outside. He had expected to see Benny, but the man was nowhere to be seen. The hunter let out a shuddering sigh and looked up at the clouded sky. In a few hours, he would never see it again.

He didn’t know how long he stayed outside but he went back into the room when he couldn’t stand the cold anymore.

He was almost startled when he saw Benny inside, sitting in one of the chairs. He had never seen or heard him come in. His eyes were closed, seemingly asleep but probably aware of his surroundings. Sam went to his bed and put on his jacket, but the cold had made its mark on his skin. He rubbed his hands together. Maybe coffee would help. He went to check the cupboard, but unfortunately, there was no coffee. He had to wait for Dean’s return from wherever he went, so he settled on his bed and waited.

An hour later, Dean came back with breakfast. When he stepped inside, his brother beamed at Sam. The younger hunter almost felt bad about what was going to happen by the end.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

“Better,” Sam smiled, even though it wasn’t exactly true.

“Good. Now, you’re gonna eat and we can get back to our lives.”

Dean looked at him with such hope that Sam felt tears welling up. He cleared his throat and pretended to look inside his duffel bag.

“I’d like that, Dean,” Sam replied in the end.

His brother relaxed slightly and smiled. It was a small thing, but the young hunter was reassured Dean believed him. His brother put the paper bag on the small table beside the window and started to get out everything he bought.

“Did you rob a diner, Dean?” Sam couldn’t help but ask cheekily.

His brother rolled his eyes and started to enumerate the food and drinks.

“There’s coffee. Though, for you, Sam, you’ll get an OJ,” he said with a smug smile.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Got pancakes, bacon and eggs, and a pie. Wait, I almost forgot,” he said, slapping slightly his forehead, “But I guess you must have already known by now. Sam, this is Benny. Benny, this is Sam, my brother.”

“Yeah, we introduced ourselves this morning,” Benny replied, standing up. He threw a glance at Sam before putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Sam bristled with jealousy once again. He hated that Benny could touch his brother so freely.

Jesus, was he jealous of a guy he didn’t know? That was pathetic. He shouldn’t waste time on this Benny. Even if he was from the monsters’ heaven, even if Sam didn’t trust him, he had his brother for a limited time, he had to make the most of it.

“Yeah, we did.”

Dean’s eyes traveled from Sam to Benny, probably, sensing that something was wrong. Before Dean could find out what, Sam took his place at the table.

“I’m starving, Dean, let’s eat.”

Dean always had a soft spot for a Sammy in distress and it worked once again. Dean looked like a proud parent. Sam tried to keep the guilt at a minimum for manipulating his brother to distract him. Tears prickling behind his eyelids, Sam drank the orange juice Dean gave him.

He had to swallow down a sob at the thought he would never receive his brother’s care again. He liked his independence, but having Dean take care of him like that pulled something deep inside, which only seemed to worsen his emotions. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his brother. Dean didn’t seem to notice the change in Sam’s mood. Benny, however, observing him keenly, didn’t miss it.

Sam nibbled on a piece of pancake, his stomach still unsettled. He wasn’t sure he could handle eating anything right now, in fact. Benny wasn’t eating either, but Dean’s concern was solely focused on Sam.

He stored that information for later. Maybe he could research— His train of thoughts stopped abruptly. Well, that was ludicrous. Sam wouldn’t survive the night, what was the point?

“Are you OK, Sam?” Dean asked.

Sam blinked. Both men were looking at him strangely.

“You blanked for a bit,” Dean continued, his worry painted on his face.

“Sure, I’m…” Sam started to say, a bit sluggish. He paused, worked his jaw to remove the soreness. His brow still furrowed with worry, Dean stood to join Sam and put a hand on his forehead.

“Sammy, you’re warm. Why didn’t you say so?”

Dean grabbed his shoulders just as saliva flooded Sam’s mouth.

Uh, oh.

“Dean, let me go.”

“What?” his brother said confused before Sam pushed him out of the way to go to the bathroom. He knelt and threw up in the toilets. His ears were buzzing. He faintly heard Dean’s concerned voice behind him. Even when Sam had emptied his stomach, he dry heaved until he couldn’t get his breath back.

“Sam, Sam, kiddo, please answer me.”

Sam tried to nod but he was too weak. He gulped and grimaced at the bitter taste in his mouth. His strength left him suddenly. He stumbled against the wall, his whole body shaking. His teeth started to chatter as Dean knelt in front of him. His brother put his hand on Sam’s forehead.

“Sammy, you’re burning up!”

Dean went on to take a towel and put it under water. The cool cloth felt like a blessing on Sam’s head.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Sam nodded and tried to get up but his legs didn’t respond quite yet. Dean wound his arms around his body and called for Benny.

“Help me get him on the bed. We’re gonna break the fever.”

“Sure, Brother.”

Benny went on the opposite side of Dean and put Sam’s arm around his shoulders.

Nearing the bed, they let Sam slowly fall on it and arranged his limbs so that he was comfortable. Dean looked at him, searching his face for something. He frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. He raised his hand and removed a lock of Sam’s hair which was in front of his eyes.

“Benny, can you bring the cold towel?”

Benny came back a few seconds later with it.

“Thanks.”

Exhausted and cold, Sam was already half asleep, his eyelids heavy as gravity worked to close them slowly.

“Tell me the truth, Sam. Is this because of the spell?”

“I… Dean…”

“No, no more lies, Sam. This is serious.”

Sam tried to smile but he wasn’t sure he succeeded since Dean’s expression darkened.

“Imma just gonna go to sleep, and I’ll be fine. You take care o’ me. Like a’ways.”

Dean’s mouth twisted.

“Yeah, like always.”

Sam closed his eyes.

❖

The familiar sound of the car’s engine made him smile. He wasn’t quite awake now, his body strangely light and his mind almost at peace. Being in the Impala, although it hadn’t  always meant good things, used to always be a good first step. Especially knowing that Dean was there as well.

Sam tentatively opened his eyes. He didn’t think he had ever been happier to see the upholstery of the driver’s seat, or hearing Dean humming a song, something like AC/DC or Led Zepplin. Maybe it was Frank Zappa. Sam wasn’t sure.

What he noticed though was that he was almost folded in two on the backseat, his legs nearly spilling over the seat. At least, he didn’t feel cold anymore, just numb all over.

“Dean,” someone said in the hushed atmosphere, and Sam’s eyes snapped to the passenger’s seat. Benny didn’t even look at him. Without another word from Benny, Dean slowed the car and parked on the side of the road. Dean got out and took something in the trunk.

“Hey, Sammy, drink this,” he ordered after opening the back door and helping Sam sit. In his hand, he had a bottle of water and an energy drink.

“Good,” Dean said when Sam drank enough in his opinion. “You hungry? I got sandwiches.”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t feel like eating right now.

“What about fruits? I know you like that, you freak of nature.”

Sam chuckled weakly.

“It’s OK, Dean. I don’t… I’m not hungry. Later.”

Dean studied him a few more seconds before nodding. “If you’re sure. Ask Benny if you want anything.”

Sam smiled blandly, “I will.”

With a satisfied smile, Dean closed the door and came back to this seat. He threw the bottles at Benny who caught them easily.

“Alright, let’s go!”

Dean seemed a little more cheerful now. He put on the radio and geared up.

“Where are we going?”

“Bobby’s,” Dean told him. “Since you couldn’t tell me about that spell of yours, I assume your sickness or whatever it is you have is caused by it.”

Sam quickly met Dean’s eyes through the rearview mirror. He hoped his brother couldn’t see he was hiding something.

“How long have I been asleep?”

How long did he still have to live?

“Hm, about 4 hours.”

Ten hours left then.

“Thanks, Dean.”

Sam let out a shuddering sigh and looked out of the window. He hoped the rest of the trip would go smoothly.

However, it didn’t happen. The car made him even sicker, and he had bouts of vomiting throughout the next hour. It worried Dean so much, he didn’t put the radio back on. As they drove, Sam became even more silent. With the headache pounding in his head and the sheer exhaustion, Sam didn’t have the energy to make conversation. The other passengers didn’t seem better. The whole trip was long and tense.

It came to a point where Sam just wanted to get it over with. He didn’t care about keeping up appearances anymore. He didn’t have the energy to pretend he was going to be fine. More worried, maybe even desperate, Dean started to drive faster, as if arriving at Bobby’s sooner meant they were going to find a solution.

Maybe Sam should just admit everything to his brother. Admit there wasn’t a cure, that he was going to die, and that Sam lied to him one last time. But something stopped him as he gathered the strength to admit everything. Selfishly, Sam didn’t want his last moments with his brother to be smeared by his lies. He wanted to be at peace, finally.

Dean didn’t notice Sam’s internal dilemma, but Benny was getting suspicious. Sam could feel his attention on him like a laser beam. He decided to ignore the other man. If Benny wanted to say something, Sam wasn’t going to stop him.

He burrowed himself against the door, the shakes coming back, his forehead resting on the window and eyes looking out at the landscape. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to throw up again.

❖

Sam was startled awake by someone pounding on the window. Dean looked at him perplexed. Sam sat up and squinted at his brother. The sun dipped behind Dean, enveloping him in a warm light. It accented his pallor and tiredness. Sam looked around him and saw Benny wasn’t in the car anymore.

“Hey, Dean,” he said, his voice scratchy from sleep, as he opened the door. “We’ve been here long?”

“No. How are you feeling?” Dean asked, frowning.

Like crap. Like dying.

Sam smiled weakly and got out of the passenger's seat. His sore muscles made him wince, and Dean was by his side instantly, hands hovering nearby in case Sam decided to fall. He was definitely too tall to be sleeping in the backseat of the Impala anymore.

“Sammy?”

“I’m… fine. Not great, but I’m sure I’ll get better.”

He had to be careful with his lies. Dean seemed to suspect something. He didn’t need him to figure it out before the end. But Dean wasn’t convinced. Sam could see it by the way he pressed his lips together, and his hands made fist. Surprisingly, though, he let it go.

“OK, sure,” Dean said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why don’t you stay here while I do that? I’ll buy some food. Benny should come back soon.”

“I can come with you,” Sam replied hopefully.

Dean shook his head.

“Nah, Sammy, stay here, you better rest, I don’t want you to fall off.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t wrong. Even Sam wasn’t sure if he could stand the short trip to the shop.

“Fine. Then I’d like…”

“I know your order, kiddo.”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

His brother winked and turned towards the shop. Sam sighed and leaned on the car when his legs started to shake again. He inhaled and exhaled to pass the nausea, but it didn’t completely work.

Someone came up to him, startling him. When he saw it was only Benny, Sam let out a sigh of relief. At least, it was someone he knew, even if he didn’t trust him. Were it anyone else, or anything else, Sam would have been too slow to do anything.

“Hey, Benny. Dean’s in the...”  Sam trailed off as the man walked up to him when he noticed blood on him. He had his suspicions, of course. He came back with Dean from Purgatory. Dean being human was the exception. He just didn’t have time to think about Benny’s true nature.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, his eyes on the trickle of blood on Benny’s mouth.

Benny stopped, his eyes careful, and removed the bit of blood with his finger.

“No. I’m not hurt.”

Benny watched him still, probably to see how he would react. Creatures that drank blood weren’t many, but those that did were dangerous, and Sam didn’t have any weapons on him. The other man smirked, the gesture screaming predator monster killer.

“What are you?” Sam asked, his voice low as if anybody on this empty road could hear him.

Benny wasn’t human, and Sam’s mind went a mile a minute trying to figure it out. With Sam dying, it left Dean with this... creature, whatever he was. Was this his latest fuck up?

“Don’t worry about your brother,” Benny said as if he had read Sam’s thoughts. “He knows what I am. I didn’t lie to him.”

Not like you’re doing right now, Sam’s mind completed.

“Shut your mouth,” Sam growled. “This is none of your business.”

Benny’s face darkened and he stalked to Sam. Sam’s fear fueled his adrenaline. “Now, listen to me. You can lie all you want but this secret of yours is going to destroy your brother and you won’t be there to make it all better.”

“What?”

“I know you’re dying, Sam. It’s gonna crush your brother. I know it, and you do too.”

Sam sucked in a breath, taken aback at being discovered. Like a puppet that had its strings cut, Sam lost all steam and leaned against the car.

“Don’t tell him,” Sam begged.

The weight on his chest squeezed his lungs tight, making it hard to breathe.

“Sam?”

Benny extended his hand towards him, but Sam’s legs didn’t support him anymore and he slid to the ground. He tried to grab onto the car, but his fingers didn’t have any purchase on the sleek car body. Benny’s strong arms prevented him from smashing his head on the ground.

“Sam!” Dean’s voice rang, his feet thundering on the ground. It sounded like a stamped in his head. Benny’s hands tightened on his body. When his own blood batting at his temples became too much for him, he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing to will it all away. Time passed; Sam didn’t know how long.

“Sammy?”

When he opened his eyes, he sat on the ground with Dean kneeling in front of him.

“You, OK?”

“Yeah.”

“You feel OK going into the car?” Dean asked with a small encouraging smile.

“Yeah,” Sam said in a sigh.

“Let’s go.”

Dean helped him on the passenger seat. Benny was already sitting in the front. He turned around and gave him a bottle of water and a sandwich.

“You might want to eat and drink if you’re able. That’s probably why you fainted in the first place.”

Sam swallowed back whatever scathing answer he wanted to say and took the offered items.

“Thanks, Benny.”

The man smiled tightly and turned back towards the front.

They drove for quite some time. Sam couldn’t quite keep track of it. He kept dozing off, Benny’s insistent gaze a heavy weight on Sam.

When the board sign with Singer’s Salvage finally became visible from the road, Dean looked at Sam through the rearview mirror for a moment. His eyes were crinkling with happiness, and Sam mused that it was the first time since he came back that Dean really seemed happy. Sam couldn’t help but answer with a smile of his own. At least, his last few hours would be spent in a home he liked.

Dean parked in the courtyard, and while Sam hobbled to the living room and let himself fall on the sofa, Dean and Benny took the groceries they bought and put them all away in the kitchen.

“Sammy, before sleeping, tell me where you found your spell. I can look for it while you nap. I’ll wake you up when I find it.”

Through his blurry vision, Sam watched Dean. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the exhaustion or actual tears threatening to fall.

“Oh, yeah, it’s on the desk. The one with the black cover,” Sam lied, hoping Dean wouldn’t see through it.

His brother nodded and went to sit down at the desk.

“Alright, sleep now, kiddo. I’ll take care of everything now.”

Dean opened the book, focusing entirely on his reading. Sam’s stomach twisted painfully with guilt, but he stopped himself from telling the truth. If Dean knew now, he was sure his brother would hate him. He’d just had to keep quiet until his time was up.

He had saved Dean, he reminded himself, it was a worthy sacrifice.

Sam felt eyes on him and met Benny’s. The younger man was the first one to look away. He willed himself to sleep. Maybe it would be all over when he woke up.

If he woke up.

❖

Someone was shaking his shoulder brusquely. When Sam opened his eyes, Dean’s frustrated face looked down to him.

“Come on kiddo, I need a break from reading all that stupid stuff.”

Sam nodded distractedly. He sat up and passed a hand through his hair. He felt weird. Still sore, but not too bad.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. He knelt in front of Sam and looked at him directly in the eyes. Sam felt a little ill at ease under his brother's gaze. He looked serious, with an edge of worry.

“I couldn’t find anything. Are you sure the spell book you used was here?”

Dean looked steady and confident. For a second, Sam was on the verge of admitting everything, just like Benny suggested. He opened his mouth when the door was slammed closed, stopping him in his tracks. Dean made a frustrated noise and rose. Benny appeared in the living room and looked at them both inquisitively. A heavy silence fell. Benny and Dean stared at each other, and it felt like they had an entire conversation without talking.

Irritation and jealousy started to rise within Sam, but he deflated quick after. What was the point? He only had a few hours to live. Finally, whatever silent conversation they were having ended when Dean sighed and told them he was going to buy dinner. Bobby’s house didn’t have anything to feed three grown men.

Well, just one since Dean would be the only one to eat by the end of today.

Once they were alone, Benny came into the living room. Sam tensed.

“You’ve been asleep for about two hours, and during those two hours, Dean didn’t stop looking through all the books he could understand,” Benny said, gesturing to the books thrown askew on the desk, some opened, others with a piece of paper stuck between two pages. “He’s starting to doubt your story, but even then, he continued to look for a cure because he wants to believe he can save you. But he can’t, can he?”

Sam looked at him and said nothing. He didn’t want to give Benny the satisfaction of being right. The man smiled, huffing a little.

“When he told me about you, I didn’t know what to expect but it’s certainly wasn’t that.”

Sam clenched his jaw but decided not to reply.

“He told me so many stories about you,” Benny continued, raising his hands to encompass Sam. “How you were brave, how he trusted you with his life, how you beat the devil and lived to tell the tale.”

Benny laughed a little, his face becoming deadly serious.

“It’s funny because right about now, you only look like a coward to me.”

Sam pressed his lips together, trying to stem the flow of anger growing inside him. What right did he have to judge him? None. He didn’t know Sam; he only knew what Dean told him, and it was skewed. Because whatever his brother might have said, he stopped trusting Sam a long time ago. He might have trusted him with his life, but he didn’t trust Sam to make his own choices.

He wondered if that was the reason why he cast the spell, so that he could finally choose. Right at the end, he chose, and Dean will have to accept it, some way or another.

“Thanks for the advice, Benny.”

Carefully, Sam stood from the sofa with the help of the coffee table.

“You have to tell him.”

Sam had his back turned to Benny, so he smiled.

“I will, I promise. I will tell him.”

“Before it’s too late.”

Sam didn’t answer right away. He turned towards Benny, and said, almost giddy in his despair, “It’s already too late.”

Benny’s face fell. Sam slowly climbed the staircase, his hand gripping the railing tightly. On the second floor, he went to Bobby’s old room. When he opened the door, the dust suddenly hit him, making him sneeze several times. Why did he come here? Right, he wanted to get away from Benny. He went to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He smiled when he saw the frame lying face down.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed it and turned it around to look at it.

There was Dean, about 10 years old, sporting one of Bobby’s cap. Beside him, sitting on a chair, was Bobby. He had one hand on Dean’s shoulder. His other hand was busy trying to keep Sam steady on his lap. Sam forgot when this was taken, but looking at their faces in the picture, it was so obvious they were happy. So happy.

His eyes started to fill up with tears and he shook his head. Not now, he still had something to do. One last thing for Dean. He closed the drawer and went back to the hallway. Sam was satisfied to see that Benny didn’t follow him. Instead of going back to the living room, Sam went to the room he and his brother always shared when they used to visit Bobby.

Just as he thought, Dean had put all their stuff there while Sam had been sleeping. He rummaged through his duffel bag to find his notebook. Once he retrieved it, he took a pen and sat on the bed. He icked off his shoes, swung his legs on the mattress and let his back rest on the pillow he put against the wall.

Benny was right. As much as Sam wanted to bury his head in the sand, Dean would have to live with his actions. He might not understand him, he might even despise him, but it was important that he knew, even if it was already too late. Benny’s idea to tell Dean the truth wasn’t that bad, and there was one way Sam could do that. He looked down at the notebook in his hands. If he left a note, something for Dean to read, then maybe it would hurt less? Maybe it would feel less like a betrayal? Or abandonment?

Sam smiled bitterly. He didn’t even believe his own bullshit.

Nevertheless, he opened the notebook, smoothed out the pages and grabbed the pen. The blank page seemed to accuse him and mock him. He took a deep breath and started to write. Not satisfied with the first words he had written, he tore the page and started again.

❖

Dean came back with food about an hour later. Just like the previous times, Sam could barely eat, and Benny didn’t eat at all. The man had disappeared before Sam had finished writing the letter. When he came back, he looked better, he had gained color, a sure sign he fed himself. Dean ate with gusto, promising he was going to research the spell after dinner. Sam smiled and nodded until he looked at the clock and realized he only had two hours left.

With a heavy heart, Sam thought of the letter, of death, of fear. Dying was an easy choice for Sam, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel anything.

“Sam? You, OK?”

He looked at his brother, and said, “Yes, Dean, I’m just tired.”

Dean nodded, as if it made sense. And, Sam supposed, it did. He was sick, he had fainted several times, slept so many hours. Too many.

“Get a good night's sleep, Sammy.”

Oh, Dean. With a lump in his throat, Sam rose from his chair, took a couple steps towards the hallway before turning back and taking his brother into his arms. For a second, Dean seemed surprised, but he quickly returned the hug, squeezing hard.

“Thank you, Dean, for being here,” Sam whispered in his brother’s ear.

“Always,” Dean replied, his voice a little choked up.

Sam broke the hug and left the kitchen. He knew Dean wouldn’t go to sleep until later, and Sam hoped he wouldn’t come before his time was up.

Sam walked back to the stairs, knowing it would be the last time he would see the house. He looked inside the living room, remembering all the time he and Dean were here, helping Bobby. He looked back at the kitchen, and saw Dean relaxed, a beer in his hand. Hopeful.

Sam inhaled and climbed the stairs, his hand brushing against the old wallpaper, hitting the loose parts. He went to their room, took out the letter from his notebook and put it on the nightstand. He washed, dressed for the night, and went under the covers.

He looked at the ceiling, old and cracked and yellowish in some areas. This house had seen a lot of things, supernatural, humans. It had seen John, Sam, and Dean. Bobby and his wife.

Sometime later (a few minutes or an hour), someone knocked. Sam tensed.

“Sammy?”

Shit, Dean. What did he want? Did Benny tell him about what was going to happen?

“You still awake?”

Dean fell silent and waited. Sam looked at the shadows the hallway light threw under the door. Heart hammering, he waited. His brother will leave, and he’ll be alone. Alone, and dying. Trying to get over the fear clawing his way up in his throat, Sam answered before Dean could leave.

“Yeah, Dean.”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He quickly hid the letter under the covers when the door opened. Sam squinted at the too-bright light.

“Sorry,” his brother said before half closing the door. “Wanted to ask you something.”

Wary, Sam ventured, “Yeah?”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Sam snorted at the unexpected question.

“You don’t want any of that rabbit food, right?” Dean asked, hopeful and amused.

“No, fine, I’ll get… pie.”

Dean beamed at him.

“Great choice, Sammy.”

Dean squeezed his shoulder and left him alone. Sam took the letter out and put it back on the nightstand.

Time passed, and Sam started to think that this wasn't the first time this house had witnessed pain and death. Sam wagered this was the first time it was so peaceful.

Looking at the cracked ceiling, Sam thought he’d rather sit by the window. He got out of bed, gently pulled a chair to the window. He opened it, quickly followed by the panes, letting in the fresh air, making him shiver.

He sat down, propping his elbow on the windowsill.

He looked up at the sky. He was a bit disappointed when he realized he couldn’t see many of the stars, hidden away by clouds. But he continued to look up, feeling the wind on his hot and cold cheeks.

He closed his eyes and breathed the air.

It smelled like rain.

NOW

Benny looked at Dean as he read the letter, hunched over his brother’s body like he was trying to protect him, even in his death. Dean crumbled the letter inside his fist and threw it on the ground.

“Dean,” he started to say.

“Not now!” Dean snapped, his voice broken. “Please.”

“All right.”

So, Benny left him alone. The hunter didn’t say it, but he knew Dean appreciated it. Hours passed while Dean mourned his dead brother. At one point in the evening, the hunter stood and started to gather all his brother’s things: his clothes, his laptop, his duffel bag, even his gun, everything and anything that Sam had owned and put it in the car before coming back inside.

Reverently, Dean wrapped Sam from head to toe in the sheet covering the bed. He then carried his brother on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Benny wanted to help but Dean stopped him with a glare and went through the door silently, stubbornly.

Before following him, curious despite himself, the vampire picked up the bunched-up letter and slipped it into his coat pocket.

Dean honked and Benny joined him in the car. The hunter drove out of Bobby’s junkyard and into the forest. After a few minutes of driving, Dean seemed satisfied with the space; a big enough clearing to welcome the informal wake, and secluded enough to avoid any prying eyes. Without a word, Dean built the wooden bed, hoisted his brother’s body on the bed and lit the logs with fire.

A bottle of whisky gripped tightly in one hand, Dean stared relentlessly at the fire.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Benny said.

Dean snorted unhappily and drank some more whisky.

Benny chose to let the man alone for now and went back to the car. When he put his hands in his pockets for heat, an old human habit, his fingers brushed against the crinkling paper of the letter. Quite certain it would be a breach of Dean’s privacy, Benny hesitated but after all the warnings Benny had given Dean’s little brother, he was curious, so he took it out and read it.

Dean,

You must be pissed, hurt, and confused. I know you don’t understand, and I know you might never understand why I did it or how.

The truth is: I can’t live without you. When you disappeared, I lost it. I thought you were dead. When I learned that I could save you, I did everything I could to make it happen. It’s as simple as that. I did what was right, what was logical.

I’m sure you want more explanations on how or even why. Here’s how it went down: there was a deal I could make, my life for yours. I didn’t think twice, I said yes, count me in. I honestly didn’t expect it to work, but it did.

I also didn’t expect Benny to come with you. I’m glad he’s here. He’s gonna help you stay rational, he’s gonna stop you from doing anything stupid.

Don’t beat yourself up, you couldn’t have stopped it.

I don’t know where I’m going. Heaven is out of the question, so that leaves Hell, and Purgatory. My odds aren't very good on both fronts.

Jokes aside: please, don’t save me this time. Dean, promise me, promise me that you won’t try to save me.

Just let me go. It’s time.

One last thing: don’t ever forget that I will always care about you.

I love you,

Your little brother forever,

Sam.

Benny folded the letter, smoothed out the paper as much as possible and put it back in his pocket in case Dean wanted to read it again one day.