We're Headed for Heartbreak

Dean unarmed his gun and put it back in his waistband. Sam had him fooled. He really thought his Sammy had gone crazy. Sam laid Madison's unconscious form on the concrete gently. Even though she wasn't human at the moment didn't mean that there wasn't one inside somewhere. Sam stared silently at her for a couple minutes, his face unreadable, expressionless. Dean decided now was a good time to make his entrance.

"Sammy." Dean spoke quietly, but his voice still cracked like the gunshot would've through the parking lot. It brought Sam out of his trance.

"Dean...I didn't hear the Impala. How much did you see?" He asked, voice shaky, as he returned his weapon to its rightful place. His voice portrayed everything his face didn't.

"Long enough for the hood to get cold and you to scare the shit outta me. Damn well took you long enough to knock her out. I thought you actually believed her," Dean commented, bending down to check the girl's pulse. Sam smacked the backside of Dean's head.

"You know me better than that, dude. And she isn't dead, stupid. She can't be. I didn't shoot her," Sam said, helping his brother to his feet.

Dean's wandering eyes led him to Sam's brilliant jade orbs. Well, they were currently jade. Who knows what beautiful color they'll be tomorrow... Dean thought, but quickly shook his head vigorously. Where the hell did that come from?

"Right," Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, breaking their gaze and, especially, his train of thought. "Well, we better get her inside before someone sees." He looked over his shoulder nervously.

"Yeah, you're probably right. You get her legs," Sam determined. "On second thought, just go get the elevator. I got her." He slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and hoisted her up. Dean opened the door for Sam, who has no trouble with Madison's weight. Once in the elevator, Sam spoke. "I wish it would've worked, Dean."

Dean's heart broke at the sadness in Sam's voice. He thought it best to just keep silent. He watched as Sam opened Madison's apartment door and laid her on the couch.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Madison woke up to the rising sun and the sound of the boys whispering in the kitchen.

"What are we gonna do?" She recognized the voice as Dean's.

"Tell her the truth." Sam answered.

"No shit, Sherlock. I mean, what are we gonna do about....the truth." Dean's voice was laced with implications. Sam was silent a long time.

"Whatever we have to," Sam finally replied. Madison stood up, walked to the kitchen doorjamb and leaned on it.

"Do what about what truth? What's wrong?" She asked, concerned. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Everything's fine. I'm okay," he consoled, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Then, is it Dean?" She asked, but Sam shook his head. She knew now, but she didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to leave this state of bliss, but she knew she had to. "It's me, isn't it? The treatment didn't work. I'm still...." Their silence confirmed all of her worst fears. A single tear leaked from her eye as she just nodded and left the room.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Sam watched as Madison walked out of the room.

"Well," Dean spoke as he leaned against the counter with arms crossed, voice gruff, "that totally went as planned." Sam just sighed, sat down and put his head in his hands. Madison reentered the room.

"Sam. I need you to do something for me. Please." Her voice was thick with tears, but firm. Her mind was made up. Sam picked his head up and looked at her, his eyes desolate. She handed him his own gun. "I want you to do it."

"I don't think I can. I really don't," Sam pleaded, "Just give us a little more time. We'll find something that works." Madison shook her head 'no'.

"I don't want to worry if I'm gonna kill someone tonight, or the next night, or the night after that. And I know you two can't stay with me and lock me in a closet every night. Even if you could, I wouldn't let you. I'd rather not live at all than to live like this. People are safer without me around. I'll be waiting for you, Sam. Whenever you get ready. I've already made up my mind." She left the room, headed towards the living room. A single tear fell from Sam's eye as she turned the corner.

"Sammy," Dean placed his hand on his little brother's shoulder, "give me the gun. I'll do it." Sam pulled the gun just out of his brother's reach.

"No. She asked me to do it. She doesn't deserve this." Sam softly sobbed, hiding his face from his brother. He took shaky steps through the door frame and disappeared out of view. It was silent for a few moments before a shot rang out through the apartment.

He doesn't deserve this. Dean could feel how pained Sam was. It made him fall apart inside. His quickly falling tears hadn't evaporated by the time Sam appeared back in the room a few minutes later. He walked to the sink and rinsed off the silver bullet he'd retrieved from Madison's body. "Wipe your prints, then we go," Sam said, his voice deadpan, as he threw his brother a rag and left the apartment.