Summary:  The last year of Dean's life is full of demon killing, anger, angst, and life with his brother.
Spoilers:  Set post "All Hell Breaks Loose - Part 2".
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

Sam yanked Joe up quickly over the edge with all his strength. He watched the soft, eerie movement of a gray smoky image flowing toward him.

“Dean…” he gasped, as he felt cold icy tendrils pushing him toward the edge of the cliff. Sudden comprehension hit him and he knew he was being pushed over. Just as he felt himself teetering in the balance, warm arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him back. He fell with a thump on the dirt and grass, lying on top of Joe. The Sisyphus hateful glare leering back at both of them, it turned and disappeared over the cliff’s edge.

“Did you see that…?” Joe said in a terrified voice. “That’s what pushed Tim and I over the edge, what…is…that”?

Sam rolled off of Joe, lying on his stomach, glaring down over the side of the cliff.

“Dean, Dean”, he yelled, eyes frantically watching as the Sisyphus floated and then disappeared past the ledge where Sam could see.

Sam heard the sounds of rocks and debris falling down the slippery slope, and then nothing.

“Oh God…Dean”, Sam yelled frantically, pushing up on all fours, body leaning precariously over the edge, peering down the cliff side. Joe quickly righted himself, reached up and grabbed hold of Sam’s ankle, holding him at the cliffs edge. The rope Dean had been attached to be now conspicuously missing from the side of the rock.

“DEAN”, Sam yelled at the top of his lungs, voice quivering, hands shaking. Seconds passed that seemed to be an eternity. Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes, flowing slowly over his eyelids, down his face, falling without a sound over the edge of the cliff.

Joe pulled Sam back toward him.

“Sam, he’s gone”, Joe whispered. Sam sat back on his butt, arms resting behind him, weight bearing down arms holding his shaky body up. He looked over at Joe, gasped in air, and then pulled himself quickly back toward the edge again, yelling.

“Dean, Dea…..answer me”. Joe grabbed a hold of Sam’s forearms from behind, making sure he did not fall over the edge. Sam shaking harder and heaving for air as the world around him began to spin.

“Humph”

Sam stopped mid breath, tilting his head at an angle, listening.

“Shhhh”, he pushed at Joe, who still had him in a vice grip.

Then Sam heard it, a cough, not a loud one, but a cough.

“Dean” his voice echoed over the cliffs edge.

“Sam…Sammy” came a low voice from below.

The most wonderful voice Sam had ever heard. He quickly shook himself loose from Joe and grabbed at the rope still tied around his waist.

“Dean, I’m coming…Dean, do you hear me?”

“Ye…Yea, I here you, I’m stuck on the same damn ledge Joe was…shit, shit, the rope fell. What the hell Sam, did you get it, the Sisyphus?” Dean’s voice bellowed back up at Sam from the vast nothingness over the edge.

“Joe, hold the rope”, Sam ordered and thrust the rope in Joe’s hands.

“I can’t hold any rope; I ain’t got my gloves!” Joe spouted off.

Sam quickly took off his own gloves and thrust them at Joe.

“Take these”.

Joe clumsily took the gloves from Sam’s hands, put them on, and reached to hold the rope as Sam jumped quickly over the edge.

“Whoa…wait…Whoa”, Joe hands gripped the rope tightly as Sam quickly pushed himself off the cliff top.

Sam swung over the ledge calling Dean’s name as he went. Dean pushed up on the rock he was leaning against, looking toward the sound of Sam’s voice. As Dean watched, loose dirt and rock began pelting down on him from Sam’s hasty ascent. Suddenly, Sam appeared to the left of Dean, worried eyes scanning him over, checking him for injuries.

“Dean”, Sam wheezed out, heart pounding, fingers and hands trembling and tingling.

“I’m okay Sam, just get me off this damn ledge”, Dean huffed out and rolled his eyes.

“Okay, but we don’t have the other rope….So….I know…I know, I’m gonna swing back and forth and you grab hold of me when I come that way”. Sam said as he kicked off to the left with his right foot.

“What…Sammy…wait” Deans eyes widened as Sam swung away from him, out from the ledge in a arch, then thudded into the rock embankment about five feet further away from him. Sam pushed off again and came flying at Dean feet flailing around. Dean quickly reached up with his right hand and grabbed Sammy’s foot, holding him as he began to try and swing away from him.

“What the hell you doin’ down there?” Joe yelled from above them, “You weight a ton dude, be still would ya?”

“Just hold the freaking rope, I’m getting my brother, we’re both gonna have to climb up on this one”. Sam glared up at the top of the ledge, and back to his brother.

Dean could see the tear tracks mingled with the dirt still fresh on Sam’s face. His eyes glanced up and met Sam’s in one brief moment they looked at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking, a silent ‘thank you’ from Dean, a silent ‘I got your back’ from Sam.

Dean put his left hand on the rope just above Sam’s head and pulled himself bodily up, Sam grasped a cupped hand underneath Dean’s foot to give him some leverage, just then noticing the blood that was pooling in his uncovered hand and now running down his arm and up under his sleeve. He grimaced as pain spiked in his hand, but kept it up and steady so Dean could push off, grab the rope, and start climbing up.

Dean continued to put one hand above the other, his feet tangled around the rope, knees sliding up as he went. Sam stood legs bent at the knees, feet steady against the rock cliff, waiting for Dean to make it to the top. Suddenly Dean felt the top of the ledge, and pulled himself over, breathlessly lying on his side, happy to be out of that mess. Then he noticed, Joe still holding tightly to the rope.

“Sammy”, he let out yelp, grabbed the rope in front of Joe and began pulling. The rope and Sam quickly came to the top and over the ledge. Sam fell to his knees as he stepped up on the hard ground, letting go of the rope.

“Jesus Sam”, Dean dropped the rope and ran to Sam, grabbing both his hands up in his own. Blood was dripping over his fingers and down on the ground below him, skin burned away by the force of the rope sliding through Sam’s uncovered hands.

“Kay…I’m okay”, Sam whispered. The throbbing in his hands evident by the way his face was scrunched up, mouth in a downward turn.

Dean pushed Sam to the hard ground on his backside, pulling the back of his own shirt, ripping it over his head; he grabbed his own white tee shirt. Ripping the tee shirt into strips, he began wrapping the white cloth around Sam’s hands. Sam flinched as the material touched his raw hands and fingers, but he didn’t say a word. Dean finished his task, and in one quick motion pulled Sam into a slight hug, then pushed him away quickly, noticing that Joe was watching from his vantage point behind Dean.

“Well, Sammy…I wanted to kill that son of a bitch, not give it a good time”. Dean said with a snarky laugh as he stood back up and reached his hand under Sam’s shoulder to help him stand. Dean pulled his shirt back on over his head and glanced over at Joe.

“Thanks”, Joe nodded at Dean and lowered his eyes the ground. “Thanks for saving me….wish you could have saved Tim too…” his voice droned off into a low whisper as he finished his sentence.

“Me too”, Dean said, as Sam shifted on his feet and reached out to lay a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder.

Just as Dean turned to grab his and Sammy’s backpacks, a high pitched screech came barreling up over the edge of the cliff behind him. He turned in time to see the Sisyphus misty tendrils grabbing Sam, hoisting him high in the air and launching him head first into a tree some five feet back from the edge. Sam let out a slight yelp as he slid bonelessly down the tree and slumped to the ground. Joe was knocked to the ground as the Sisyphus roared past him.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the incantation charm, he began yelling the words as loudly as he could. Glancing over at Sammy, he frowned, then stared at the gray mist in front of him and continued. Drawing from is own experiences, he knew he had to concentrate on the task at hand. He would worry about Sammy once he had gotten rid of the Sisyphus. Rubbing the charm and chanting the incantation was all he concentrated on until it eclipsed all his other emotions. The words of the incantation flowed smoothly out of his mouth; his body, his mind oblivious to everything around him.

“….and in the realm of the dead, return this force, back to the block of stone from hence he came”.

Dean spoke the last verse of the incantation as the wind picked up and the Sisyphus flickered and screeched around him. Dean’s eyes darted up and around just as the mist faded into nothing, screaming as it went straight back to hell.

“Sammy?” Dean ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Sam’s side. Joe, who had been sitting with his arms covering his head in all the commotion, quickly jumped up and ran to Sam.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean bent down on his knees placing both his hands on Sammy’s face. He then gently poked and prodded Sam’s torso for any injuries returning to his head and neck when he was sure that no other injuries seemed apparent.

“Sammy, can you hear me”, Dean whispered as he ran his hands under Sam’s head, pulling his hand back when he found it wet with blood, thick behind Sam’s left ear.

“Damn”, Dean hissed. “Joe, give me your tee shirt”. Dean said with authority, causing the teen to quickly pull his shirt off and hand it to Dean.

Dean pulled Sam up and leaned him on his shoulder, his head lulling from side to side, eyes still closed. Dean wiped the side of Sam’s head and pushed his long locks aside to see a two inch gash behind his ear, blood flowing freely down the side of Sam’s face and neck.

“Sammy? I’m here, wake up Sammy, and open your eyes”.

Dean was pleased when his words brought a slight rustle out of Sam, his eyes attempting to pull open.

“Dea...” Sam murmured.

Dean felt Sam’s hand slid across and reach for is own. He gently reached and held Sam’s hand tightly.

“Right here, Sammy, I’m right here. Can you open your eyes?

Sam head tilted toward Dean’s voice and he pulled his lids open to mere slits looking up at Dean.

“That’s it little brother, let me see those eyes”. Dean lifted Sam’s torso with one arm around him and pulled him up to a sitting position, Sam’s head lolled to the side as he seemed to slide back into unconsciousness.

“Sam, stay awake”, Dean’s voice was urgent.

Why was Dean so insistent he stay awake, he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Yes, sleep was good, Sam thought as he drifted between wakefulness and the darkness around him.

“Sam, you have a concussion...stay awake”. Dean gave Sam a little shake and he opened his eyes and gave Dean a confused, dazed expression.

“You’re gonna need stitches”, Dean informed Sam raising them both up to a standing position.

“Joe, get the other side, he’s not gonna stay up for long”. Joe stepped up and put his arm around Sam’s waist to assist Dean in holding him up. They slowly made the trek back down the trail to the Impala, Sam stumbling and mumbling as they went.

Sam felt a warm rag moving across his forehead, his head felt fuzzy. He smelled the antiseptic smell, and scrunched his nose up. Squinting his eyes open, the bright lights blinding him and causing him to quickly close his lids.

“Sam, you okay”, Dean placed his left hand on his brother’s shoulder as the right one held firmly to the rag on his forehead.

Sam blinked his eyes, he held one of his gauze covered hands up to shield his face from the light. Dean placed the rag on the table and stepped to the light switch, turning the offending overhead light off. Sam sighed; glad his brother was with him and knew just what to do for him.

“Better?” Dean leaned in to look at Sam’s face.

“Um…Yea, thanks. Where am I?” Sam asked in a whispered voice as he pushed himself up on the bed, his head pounding with the movement. He glanced around the room with blurry eyes, noticing he was in a medical environment. “I don’t remember anything”.

“We were on the cliff and the Sisyphus came back for seconds, remember, he threw you into a tree. You got a concussion, their keeping you overnight for observation.” Dean stepped back and pulled the chair next to the bed closer to Sam, launching himself into the seat with a hearty snicker. “We sent it back to hell though”, Dean smiled to himself, “Mark that one off the to do list”.

“Don’t remember that part either”. He was so tired; he’d just close his eyes for a minute. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” Sam whispered.

“Yes, Sam, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam reached his gauze covered hand up floundering around in the air, Dean knew it was for him, so he reached his own hand over and grabbed Sam’s hand, grasping it tightly in his own. He watched as Sam’s breath evened out and he fell into sleep.

Dean sat watching his brother sleep, lying still in the hospital bed, pale as the sheets he was covered in. Sudden comprehension of his situation struck him like a blow. He felt anger overtaking him. Anger at the crossroad demon for making him such a crappy deal. He had 51 days left to live; he could hardly breathe when he thought about leaving Sammy alone. The magnitude that the end was coming faster than he could fathom was overwhelming. He wanted to believe that Sam could save him, he did, but he knew it was probably not going to happen. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sat in the dark, staring at his little brother. He knew Sammy would be lost and all alone without him. Pulling his free hand through his hair, he sighed.

“I love you, Sammy”, he whispered.

Dean glanced over the magazine he was reading to look at his brother. Sam was fully clothed, lying on the hospital bed, his legs crossed at the knees, arms folded, finger tapping on his elbow.

“Gee whiz, where is the doctor. Dean, why do we gotta wait on him anyway? I wanna get outta here”. Sam fidgeted in the hospital bed, eyes darting over to the door and back to Dean. Dean continued looking at the magazine.

“Says here Lindsay Lohen’s in rehab”, Dean shifted in his chair. “Quit fidgeting Sam, the doctor will be in here soon. I just want to make sure your ‘big ole’ head scan came back okay”. Dean snickered to himself as Sam let out an exasperated breath.

Sam ran his hand up over his left ear, the bandage there causing his ear to stick out, he subconciously pushed his hand over his ear forcing it to lie down against the gauze.

“Leave it alone Sam”. Dean turned the page and kept reading the magazine.

Finally, the hospital door swung open, making a loud thump as it hit the wall. Well, thank god, Dean thought, he let the magazine go limp in his hand, smiling up at the doctor from his chair.

The old doctor looked way to old to be doing anything, Dean thought, as the doctor stepped toward Sam, sitting his cup of coffee down on the tray by the bed.

“Unum, sorry, it has been crazy today. I just came from emergency surgery. Had to stop and get my coffee fix at the Starbuck’s downstairs”. Steam rose up from the coffee cup he sat down, scent weaving around Sam’s face.

“Chocolate Mocha?” Sam questioned as he licked his lips. The doctor moved quickly over, shinning his pocket light in Sam’s eyes. Sam blinked, wide eyed at the doctor.

“Yep, just picked it up, it’s way to hot to drink right now. You feeling okay?” the doc asked Sam as he placed the light back in his white coat pocket, hand reaching for his coffee.

“I feel fine, got a little headache, that’s all”, Sam smirked up at the doctor, long bangs falling in his eyes.

“Okay, you need to take it easy for the next couple of days”

“What about his head scan?” Dean head tilted up quizzically, still holding the magazine in his hand.

“Scan’s all clear; you can go soon as I get the paperwork together”. The doctor glanced back over to Sam.

“Coffee sure smells good”, Sam quirked up a smile at the doctor. Dean returned his glaze back to the magazine.

“Can I have it?” Sam asked almost giddily.

“Sure”, the doctor reached the cup out and handed it to Sam.

Dean quickly glanced up from his magazine. What the … he thought, he watched the doctor hand the cup of coffee to Sam.

The doctor walked toward the door, stopping just as he was about to exit, he turned and looked back at Sam, eyes scrunched up as his hand came up to his forehead. His mouth opened to speak, and then, he turned and walked out of the room.

Dean flung the magazine to the floor in one quick movement as he stood up.

“What …was… that…?” a dumbfounded look decorated Dean’s face.

“Guess he just decided he didn’t want it”, Sam’s mouth curled up in a grin; flinging his legs over the side of the bed he stood up. Dean noticed him sway, and reached to steady him, hand grabbing Sam’s elbow.

“Whoa there bro…take it slow”.

Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel of the Impala, fingers tapping to the Metallic song playing in his head. He’d turn on the radio, but he knew it would wake up his brother. Man, he thought, he sure loved this car. The wind whipped in the window; as he tilted his head to feel it glide across his face. The sensation of the breeze causing his skin to tingle, he smiled to himself. He realized now that he never appreciated the simple things before now, before the deal, before his life had bled out in the last 347 days. Now, he noticed everything, the bumps in the road, the color of the sky, the hum of the engine, and his brother’s soft breathing in the seat next to him.

They had just finished up a hunt for an ugly poltergeist in Bismarck; they were headed to Bobby’s. He had been asking them for months to come, and now, Dean felt was the time. Dean knew it was probably his last chance to see Bobby, and although he was not his Dad, Dean felt he was the closest thing to one that they had now. Dean wanted to go, wanted to get Sammy there, so that when the crossroad demon came for him, Sam would not be alone. Sam would need someone when his soul was taken, when the last breath left his body.

Sam stared out the window of the car as it whizzed down the highway, headed toward Bobby’s house, the sun was sitting, the sky a brilliant orange color. It was a perfect sunset, one he should be enjoying, but he couldn’t. He really wanted to, but his stomach was tied up in a knot, his chest hurting with each thump of his heart. He was sure Dean could hear it. He glanced over at Dean; he was staring out into the evening, face stoic, hands tightly clasped on the steering wheel. Sam had slept awhile, out of sheer exhaustion, but woke up when Dean stopped for gas somewhere outside of Omaha. The crossroad demon was due to come after Dean in five days. Five days, five freak in’ days, Sam thought. Sam slumped forward in the seat, pressing his hand up to his temple as he leaned on the passenger window. He had a plan, a plan he had high hopes of making happen, but now, now that it was getting close, what if he couldn’t do it? He shuddered involuntarily and hoped Dean had not noticed. His brother was his whole world; he could not do this without him. He heaved in air, a heavy sigh coming out of his mouth. A hand slipped across the seat and settled on his shoulder, Sam leaned into it.

“Sam”, Dean said in a low tone, “you okay?”

“No”, Sam stated flatly, raising his eyes to stare up into his brother’s eyes, tears brimming just below his lids.

Dean squeezed his shoulder, before guiding his hand back to the steering wheel, eyes staring out into the dark night.

The car cruised into the front of the old junkyard around 11:00 p.m., Bobby quickly opening the front door and welcoming the Winchesters with a wide grin.

“Hey Dean, Sam, been wait' n all year for you two to show up".

Dean smiled and nodded his head at Bobby as he opened the trunk. Sam grabbed his duffle and shuffled up the steps behind Bobby. Dean lagged behind, watching his brother and Bobby as they headed toward the front door and into the house. “God”, he thought, this was getting hard.

He took the front steps two at a time and opened the front door, glancing around; he realized that Bobby was standing just inside the entry hall, hugging Sam to his chest. He darted his eyes away, turning his head the other direction as he entered. When Sam saw Dean, he quickly pushed away from Bobby, muttering, “I’m going’ to bed” he vanished up the stairs and away from Deans eyes.

“Dean, come have a beer with me”, Bobby said as he turned quickly and walked away from Dean. Dean grunted under his breath, dropped his duffle to the floor, and followed Bobby to the kitchen. He pulled a chair out from the table as he took the beer from Bobby’s hand. Both of them sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying each others company, enjoying the cold beer.

Bobby finally spoke up, “He’s not doing too well, is he?”

“Guess he’s doing okay, all considered”. Dean took another swig of his beer and glared up at Bobby.

“Dean, I been thinking, when the cross road demon comes, I want to be there. I found an old Gaelic ritual that I think will send her back to hell.” Bobby’s head nodded slightly in a yes motion.

Dean smiled widely at Bobby. “Sounds good to me”, he finished off his beer in one large gulp and stood up.

“I’m hittin’ the bed, night Bobby…and Bobby thanks for this and for being here for Sammy”.

Bobby stood and placed his hand on Dean’s back, giving him a hard pat.

“No problem Dean, no problem at all”.

Dean glared at the crossroad demon standing in front of him.

“You are such a bitch”, he sneered, and leaned in closer, glaring at her.

“Whatever you say Dean”, she smiled a wicked smile, running her finger up to her lip and pouting. She reached out with both hands grabbing at Dean’s arms.

Dean felt the swoosh as the air left his lungs, his legs falling limply to his knees.

“Too bad you won’t be around anymore to save poor little Sammy”, she laughed to Dean, her red eyes boring into his brain.

“Don’t you touch my brother”, he yelled as the buzzing in his ears grew louder.

Sam woke from his restless sleep to the sound of his brother moaning. He rose to his feet with one quick motion and took a giant step to Dean’s bed.

“Dean”, he said as he grabbed his shoulders with both hands. “Dean, wake up”.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, sweat glimmering on his forehead, the moonlight casting a low glow across his face.

“What…” he panted for air as he looked up at Sam.

“You were dreaming, it’s okay, you’re okay”, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand still resting on his brother’s side, the other hand fumbling through his hair.

“You want to talk about it?” Sam whispered in the dark.

“No”, Dean said harshly and turned in the bed, his back to Sam.

Sam’s hand dropped to the mattress. He stood, and walked slowly back to his own bed, pulling the covers up, looking back over to Dean. Sam hated that his brother was so angry, so mad, but he understood it. He stared up at the ceiling, listening, he heard Dean’s breathe even out as sleep reclaimed him.

Dean Winchester sighed to himself as he ran his calluses fingers through his hair. Leaning back on the chair, he reached his hand quickly to the table, grabbed the cup of black coffee, drinking it all in one big gulp. The sun began to peer slowly through the faded green curtains, the light gleaming across the dirty linoleum floor of the kitchen. He had been sitting here most of the night, just thinking, pondering, mulling. He glanced down at his watch and back to the window. Today was the last day of his life, the last day to see the sun, to feel its warmth, to be alive, to breath, to be with his brother. He smiled to himself, if the crossroad demon had her way, in 23 hours, 57 minutes, and 20 seconds, he would be a done. He had been counting for the last 356 days; so he knew when his world would be coming to a halt. He also knew he had not slept much in the last couple of days; the deal he had made playing over and over in his mind. He rose slowly and stepped quickly to the coffee pot, pouring himself another cup. Shuffling over to the window, he pulled the curtain aside, holding the coffee as he glanced out at the black Impala, the old junk cars, the rusted parts, and the lazy old dog lying on the top of Bobby’s truck. He snickered to himself; he was actually going to miss this place, this room, that stupid lazy ass dog. As he let go of the curtain, he felt eyes peering into his back, he turned his head slightly staring at Sam in the doorway, sun shining across his face, bloodshot wild eyes darting across the room to Dean, chest hitching in large gulps of air, body swaying as if he legs were about to buckle.

Sam Winchester heard his brother tossing and turning in the other bed every night, and this night was no different. He knew his brother had not been sleeping. He knew, because he had not been sleeping either. Each one of them lay still in their beds, minds wondering through their own thoughts. Sam knew the program, and it had not changed. Dean would lie in the bed, tossing and, turning, pretending to go to sleep until he thought Sam was sleeping. Then, he would rise up from the bed, tip toe out of the room, and leave Sam alone with own sleeplessness. He thought each night that he should go to his brother, talk to him, help him deal, he wanted to, but yet, he never moved. His own thoughts engulfed him, drowning him, pulling him down. So night after night, he lay there, frozen, no good to himself and no good to Dean. He knew that today, today was the last day of his brother’s life, the clock was ticking off, time was running out. The fact that the demon was now coming sooner, rather than later, sent a shiver down his spin. Suddenly, he was afraid, very afraid. He wondered what the shit he had been thinking. He sat up in the bed, arms weakly holding his body up, sweat breaking out on his forehead, wet bangs sticking to his face. He realized at this very moment, his powers were not reliable; not when his brother’s life was at stake. His heart began thumping wildly in his chest. Suddenly, he could not possibly make this all go away; he felt a wave of anxiety overtake him. He wanted his brother …now! He quickly tore the covers off his legs and stood up. Sam's breathe coming in large pants, his ears ringing loudly in his head. His only coherent thought, as he stumbled down the stairs, where is my brother?

Dean immediately recognized the state Sam was in as soon as he turned to look at him. Sam’s breathe in gasps, eyes wildly looking around the room.

“Sammy”, he took three giant steps and was at his brother’s side.

“Sammy, breath, calm down, just breath….” Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and led him bodily to a chair, setting him down, pulling another kitchen chair up to set next to him, to look in his face.

“Dean”, Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay Sammy; it’s just a panic attack, just breath, in and out, deep breaths”.

Dean reached his hands up to clutch Sam’s face, left hand holding his chin, right hand pushing his damp bangs out of his face.

Sam’s breath slowly began to settle into a normal rhythm, his eyes loosing the wild look he had moments before. He tilted in toward his brother, resting his forehead on Dean’s shoulder, Dean moving his arm around his brother, pulling him close.

“Did you have a nightmare”, Dean asked comfortingly as he made small circles on the back of his brothers tee shirt.

“No, No, I just….I woke, you weren’t there, I was …I was afraid…afraid the demon….” Sam voice trailed off into a silent hitch.

“No, its okay, the bitch ain’t come yet, sides, I ain’t worried, I got you, and Bobby’s got a plan”. Dean said confidently.

He glanced down at Sam’s face, his own heart breaking, as he saw the silent tears falling down his little brothers cheeks. Dean's own tears rising to his eyelids and trickling down his face.

“I’m scared De…” Sammy was surprised then Dean pulled him into a tight hug and held him there, stroking the back of his neck.

“Me too, Sammy, me too.”

Bobby woke up to the sound of laughter coming from his kitchen, the aroma of bacon, eggs, and coffee bringing him quickly to his senses. He hurriedly got dressed, and headed into the kitchen, finding Sam and Dean cooking breakfast. Sam was leaning on the counter next to the stove, nose scrunched up, watching as Dean stood at stove cooking what looked to be two pounds of bacon.

“I bet you don’t have one clear artery”, Sam said grinning at his brother.

“Oh, but it is so worth it”, Dean laughed as he grabbed a piece of the burnt bacon off the paper towel and popped it in his mouth.

“Hey boys”, Bobby quipped as he reached for his normal cup and poured himself some coffee.

“Morning Bobby”, Sam nodded over at him. Bobby noticed a dark cloud passing momentarily over Sam’s face and then disappeared as he looked back to Dean.

After breakfast, the three of them sat at the kitchen table, empty plates and leftovers before them, all three stuffed and happy. Bobby kept pouring more and more coffee, as the morning wore on and they talked, reminisced, and shared memories.

Finally, the conversation turned to the serious topic of the crossroad demon, the deal, and how Bobby thought he could get Dean out of it all.

“I found an old Gaelic ritual that I think will send her back to hell.” Bobby’s head nodded slightly in a yes motion as he brought the cup of black coffee to his lips. He stood up, and walked from the kitchen to the living room, Sam and Dean quickly followed.

“Here it is”, Bobby pulled out a book of Gaelic rituals and turned to the page he was referencing, jamming his forefinger into the page.

“How to send a Crossroad Demon back to Hell”, Sam read the title of the page out loud, “Well, that’s just original”, he snickered.

“Amazing, who would have thought”, Dean stifled a laugh under his breath as he looked form Sam to Bobby and back to the book.

“If it’s going to work we have to have all the ingredients to do it”, Bobby said, “I have been accumulating them since I found this about 3 months back”. Bobby produced a brown box and dumped its contents on the coffee table. He reached down and grabbed ingredients as he named them off to Sam and Dean. Bergamot oil, juniper granules, voodoo spell powder, holy water, demons blood, crossroad dirt, and salt. I need a lock of your hair Dean, and ½ a cup of blood from your brother.

“Blood from my brother, what the shit is that for?” Dean asked as he stepped closer to Bobby and stared into his face.

“I don’t know Dean, it just says that right here”, Bobby pointed to the page again. “A brothers blood, see it, right here in black and white. I ain't making this shit up”. Dean leaned over the page and read the words.

Water and salt, where blood is cast

No unknown purpose or evil can last

Oil and juniper from this world make

A lock of hair from this soul take

The blood of this demon will bind this spell

And take this evil straight back to hell

The blood of the brother will take control

And save the live of this stolen soul

This deal is broken, this book is closed

The soul of this one, no longer chose

So end this deal, to be done no more

Take this demon back to hell, and close the door.

Dean reluctantly let Bobby take his buck knife to his sandy blond hair, lobbing off a piece of it just above his ear. Bobby then took the same sharp knife and leered uncertainly at Sam, who held his hand up willingly.

“Have at it, Bobby, take whatever you need”. Sam’s palms were open, fingers angling down toward the knife in Bobby’s hand. Bobby made a quick cut to Sam’s palm and let the blood flow into the bowl he was holding. Dean watched as his brothers blood dripped into the bowl, and then Bobby mixed all the ingredients together, stirring it with the tip of his finger. Dean glanced at the contents in the bowl, his eyes hopeful that this whole bowl of crap would help him get out of this deal.

Once all the ingredients for the incantation were mixed together, the bowl sat in the middle of the coffee table, waiting for the demon to appear, the incantation spoken. They all three loaded their guns and sat down with their beers to wait for the demon to appear. The time was 7:15 p.m. and they knew she had to appear before midnight.

Dean’s eyes were growing heavy as he leaned slightly on the arm of the couch. The T.V. was turned on, the noise of the Tonight Show blaring in the darkness. Bobby was sitting in the chair facing the T.V., beer in one hand; remote in the other, his gun leaned against his knee, bowie knife at the ready. Sam sat next to Dean on the couch, knee touching his brother, his leg bouncing uncontrollably in a nervous fashion.

“Sam, for God’s sake, sit still”, Dean spoke in a low voice.

“Sorry, how can you two be so damn calm …?” Sam asked in a harsh tone. Bobby glanced over at Dean and winked, Dean’s lips quirked up in a grin.

“Cause we got a plan and we will follow it, that demon is going down”, Bobby said as he turned the volume down on the T.V., dropping the remote to the coffee table, grabbing up his gun in his free hand he gripped the knife tightly.

They sat in silence, thinking, waiting, listening to the sounds of the night, the T.V. the only light in the room.

Dean glanced at his watch; it was 11:48 p.m. He reached over and laid his hand on Sam’s leg, stopping it abruptly from shaking. Sam raised his eyes from the floor to look at his brother, uncertainty radiating from his face. He reached his hand up and put it on top of Dean’s, giving his brother’s hand a tight squeeze.

Bobby turned his eyes away from the boys, allowing them their moment without his prying eyes. Looking down at his watch, he watched the second hand ticking off the minutes till midnight, the minutes till the demon made an appearance. He gripped his bowie knife in his left hand, knowing that he had to cut the demon, get the blood, mix it in the bowl, and then recite the incantation. Sweat was building up on his neck, and dripping down his back. He heaved in another breath and whispered into the night, “Com’on you bitch”.

The T.V. flickered in the darkness, and then it turned to static. Bobby quickly leaned over and switched on a light, glaring around the room.

“Hello fellas”, a voice gurgled from the corner of the room. “So nice of you all to wait up for me”.

Sam and Dean quickly stood up, guns pointing at the demon. Bobby lunged for her, knife swinging in an arch straight for her stomach. The demon nodded her head and sent Bobby flying across the room. Sam’s mind racing as he watched, he quickly pulled the trigger of his gun, the bullet flying in the air straight through the crossroad demons arm.

“You little bastard”, she winched out as the bullet made contact. The next thing he knew, Sam was hit by a flying vase, he fell to his knees as the vase broke against his skull. He dropped his gun and grabbed his head. The room was spinning, and all he could see were the demons red eyes glaring at Dean.

“Hey Dean, I’ve been waiting for this day all year”, she said in a wicked voice, mouth curling up at the corners.

Dean’s finger twitched over the trigger of his gun, but before he could apply any force, the gun flew out of his hand and banged up against the far wall next to Bobby. He glared back at the crossroad demon, “You are such a bitch” he yelled.

“Damn it”, Bobby screamed as he stood up and made hasty steps across the room to take another stab at the demon.

“Would you just give it a rest”, the demon smiled at Bobby as he was once again forced to fly across the room and into the far wall.

Dean heard the demon as she talked to Bobby, but his ears were starting to ring. He looked around to see that Sam was holding his head in his hands and bleeding profusely from a wound. Dean wanted to help him, but his vision was slowly tunneling over, blackness edging in around the corners. He knew this was the end, he had hoped that Bobby could stop this bitch, but he knew now that his time was up. His legs buckled at the knees as he began to fall to the floor.

“Sammy”, he whispered as his breath began to become a struggle and his heart thumped hard against his ribcage.

Sam saw Bobby as if in slow motion, running toward the demon, arms flailing around, knife swinging toward her body. He felt the breeze go by him as Bobby flew past and back into the far wall. Through the pounding of his head, his fuzzy vision could see his brother as he panted for air, swaying on his feet, dropping his gun, and falling to his knees, the demon gloating at him.

At that moment, anger rose up in Sam, anger he could not fathom or control. He stood up, his hands coming away from his head, his eyes mere slits as he glowered at the crossroad demon.

“Let go of my brother”, his voice rising to a thunderous roar, “NOW”.

The crossroad demon merely glanced over at Sam, an evil laugh coming out of her parted lips.

“Get over it”, she hissed as she reached for Dean with both hands.

“No, you bitch, you get over it”, Sam lowered his head as he felt an electrical surge pulse through his body.

The crossroad demons eyes darted from Sam back to Dean as she took a step back, letting her arms fall to her sides.

“What is going on here?” her voice quivering.

“I said for you to let go of my brother, and I meant it, YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM”, Sam reached his hand toward Dean and pulled him back away from the demons grasp.

“You can’t control me”, the demon said in a hesitant voice.

Bobby stood up in the corner of the room; eyes widening as he was watching the scene in front of him unfold. Was the crossroad demon arguing with Sam?

“Watch me”, Sam fell to his knees as his face scrunched up in a concentrated stare, arms holding his brother to his chest, facing off against the demon.

“You can’t have him, the deal is over”, Sam said as the demon’s eyes grew larger, her hands shaking with anger.

“I can’t have him, the deal is over”, the crossroad demon hissed out, a surprised look on her face. “What, what did you just make me do?” she leered hatefully over at Sam.

“Just go back to hell”, Sam’s voice boomed around the room.

The crossroad demon stared at Dean, then glared at Sam, her eyes growing into large red ambers as she stomped her left foot angrily, like a child, and then vanished into a smoky black mist, coiling and curling out through the cracks of the living room window.

The silence in the room was interrupted as the T.V. came back to life, the sounds of a commercial for ‘head on…apply directly to the forehead’, echoed around the room. Bobby took the room in quick steps as he grabbed a hold of Dean and laid him to the carpet. Sam’s eyes fluttered and then closed as he slumped to the floor before Bobby could catch him.

Bobby pressed two fingers to Dean’s neck, feeling a faint pulse, he sighed in relief. He then turned to Sam and saw that he was breathing, but blood was running down the side of his face and pooling on the floor. Thank god, he thought. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed a rag and returned to the floor between the brothers. He ran the rag across Sam’s face and tapped lightly on his cheek. .

“Sam, Sam, are you okay” he said in a shaky voice.

Sam’s head hurt, he felt totally drained of all energy. He could hear someone saying his name, it wasn’t his brother, but the voice he recognized, he just couldn’t put a name with it. He slowly opened his eyes to see Bobby staring down at him, damp cloth wiping away what looked like blood. Everything came back to him with a flash of memory.

“Dean”, Sam sat up quickly as his head swam and he swayed. Bobby grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him.

“Whoa there Sam, you got a nasty cut on your forehead. Dean’s right here”. Bobby nodded over to Sam’s right. Sam looked over to see Dean still lying on the carpet, eyes closed, very still.

“Dean”, Sam said again as he leaned over toward his brother, arms weakly holding up his body.

“I think he’s okay Sam, he just hasn’t woken up yet. I checked him out, couldn’t find anything wrong, I think he’s just unconscious”.

Sam watched as Dean’s chest rose and fell with every breath. His brother wasn’t dead, he was alive, and he was still here. Sam’s adrenaline began to wane and tears rimmed just on the inside of his eyelids.

“Dean”, he whispered as he placed a hand on Dean’s cheek.

“Dean”, he said again a little louder, desperate for a reaction.

Dean heard the sound of his brother’s voice, calling to him from the darkness. He liked the darkness, it was calming. ‘Damn it Sammy’, he thought to himself, ‘Let me sleep’. His brother said his name again, this time he sounded more urgent, and Dean knew he would have to respond.

Sam watched as his brothers eyes began to open groggily. He was never so happy to see those hazel eyes, as he was today.

“Dean, are you okay?” he said as he placed his hand on his brother’s chest.

“Yea, why wouldn’t I be”? Dean’s voice said cockily.

“I thought I had lost you to the crossroad demon”, a tear fell from Sam’s eye down to Dean’s face.

“Damn boy, you scared the crap outta me”, Bobby said to Dean as he held the cloth to Sam’s head.

At that moment Dean saw Sam more clearly, was he bleeding? Suddenly, big brother mode kicked in and Dean sat up in one quick motion.

“Sam, are you’re bleeding”, Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder and looked intently in his eyes, glancing up to the rag being held in place by Bobby.

“I’m fine Dean, just a scratch”, Sam let out a sigh.

“Well, you don’t look fine”, Dean’s hand grabbed the rag from Bobby’s hand and he looked at his brother’s head.

“I’m fine now, everything is fine”, Sam said in a sluggish voice as he tipped into Dean.

Sam woke up to the sound of voices, laughing, definitely beer bottles being thudded together. He looked around the room and found that he was lying on the couch in Bobby’s living room. His big brother was sitting at his feet, beer bottle in his hand, laughing. Bobby was sitting in the chair across from him, eyes glimmering, face exuberant, smiling as he tipped his beer bottle to Dean and then chugged it.

“Dean”, Sam said as he brought his hand up to his forehead, boy his head sure did hurt. He felt the butterfly band aides all in a neat little row right above his right eyebrow.

“Hey Sammy”, Dean quickly grabbed Sam’s hand as he was attempting to set up. “I gotcha”, Dean smiled at him.

“Hey Dean”, Sam leaned his back on the couch, sitting next to his brother.

“You been out awhile, we gotcha up to the couch. You really got to cut down on them salads there Sammy, you weigh a ton”. Dean’s lips quirked up into his usual grin as Bobby laughed.

“We’re celebrating”, Bobby nodded at Sam with a large grin on his lips.

“Yep, we sure are, I’m still here, that bitch didn’t get me”, Dean tilted his beer into Bobby’s and the bottles clinked as the beer sloshed around.

“I know”, Sam smiled as he closed his eyes, and laid his head back on the couch cushion.

“You did it”, Bobby announced, amazement coming through in his statement.

Sam glanced over to Bobby and back to his brother, shoulders coming up in a shrug.

“I knew you could do it Sammy”, Dean’s eyes lighting up with the statement.

“Well, I wasn’t so sure”, Sammy said, surprise ringing in his tone.

Dean smiled at Sam and nodded. “Thank you, Sammy”. Dean’s hand slapped Sammy lightly on the top of his leg and stayed there as he clutched the fabric of his baby brother’s jeans in his hand.

Sam shifted his leg into the touch, a warm feeling coming over him at his brother’s words. He had done it, he had saved his brother, he had sent the crossroad demon back to hell, and the deal was over.

Sam smiled a large smile at his brother, his eyes shinning with a newfound awareness of just how special his older brother was to him. Sam closed his eyes again as he felt the pull of sleep overcoming him. He kept the smile plastered to his face as he heard his brother and Bobby guzzling more beer, talking, and laughing. He was the most relaxed he had been in a year. He dozed off looking forward to having his brother, his protector, his best friend by his side for a long time.