I Will Follow You

Dean spent all these years denying what he really wanted and what he really felt, and look what it got him. A one way ticket to Hell. So if his little brother wanted to follow him ... was he really one to argue at this point? Everything in him screamed that it wasn't right. The very reason he was going to Hell to begin with was to give Sam a shot at a whole life! But Dean had finally come to understand that the two of them were bound in a way most of the world couldn't understand. And to face the prospect of that bond being irrevocably broken was … entirely too much for either one of them to bear, even in thought.

It was funny. They were so close as kids because circumstances and their father threw them into a life where proximity equaled intimacy. They couldn't get away from each other so they couldn't help but know almost everything about each other. Then Sam grew up and went away, and a chasm opened up between them, one that neither of them ever figured out how to get across. So life gave them a crossing. Just a damn shame it had to be through tragedy and the one task Sam never wanted to take up again, hunting.

Of course it was great to reconnect with Sam. Dean got to know how Sam liked his hash browns in the morning and what lame ass dentist chair music he listened to and that there was some muscle behind that big brain of his. He'd never admit how grateful he was to get glued to beer bottles and have back up on a hunt and company in his car, even if Sam didn't know a damn thing about how to treat his Baby. Dean had gotten his little brother back, if only for a little while. It felt good to be a big brother again and to have Sam to take care of and protect.

But he'd fucked that up, like so much else in his life. That's why, when the time came, he didn't hesitate to trade his soul for Sam's. He just never expected to have such a short amount of time to wrap this all up. It wasn't that he needed to make arrangements or lay out a will or any of that crap. All he ever had in his life was his Impala and his brother, and he couldn't take either one with him where he was going. At least, that's what he'd thought.

Sam worked like a damn racehorse all year trying to figure out a way around or out of the deal. Watching him made the whole situation worse because he knew that when Sam didn't find an answer, he was going to blame himself for the rest of his life. Dean didn't want that. He tried to get Sam to concentrate on what time they had left, but Sam had their Dad's stubborn streak and hard head. He was impossible to talk to once he committed himself to a cause, even one as lost as this. So Dean did his best to get Sam to enjoy the parts of life in between the fruitless research and pointless phone calls. Those moments … they were priceless. Dean was taking some great memories with him, and hoped that they could sustain him through whatever was ahead.

The last days approached, and out of nowhere, Sam told Dean he was going with him. Arguing commenced, naturally, which escalated into screaming which turned into fists flying. All of it eventually culminated in atypical but mutual confessions of weariness and defeat. Dean had no options, and Sam didn't want the ones laid out before him. It seemed a logical enough choice, especially to Dean: death or life. Sam reminded him that the life he had to choose was one without their parents AND his big brother.

"We've seen everything there is to see, Dean. And I'm tired. I'm SO fucking tired, and y'know ... I KNOW that the reason we're even in this situation is because you wanted me to have a life but ..." Sam choked on all the unspoken words that had built up between them over the last few years. "But it's not a life worth living if I have to live it alone. And don't tell me I'll find someone or other people or any of that shit, Dean, cause I don't want to hear it. Even if I do..." Sam tapped the back of his head against the wall he was crumpled against after the right hook Dean had landed on his chin put him on the floor. "Nobody will ever get me. Nobody can ever understand where my scars come from or why the shadows under my eyes will never really be gone. You get it all without me having to say anything because you know, just like I know. I can't be Joe Normal anymore." He let out a sardonic laugh. "I couldn't EVER be him, even though I had fooled myself into thinking I could be. All my best laid plans went ... up in flames," he said solemnly, a bitter smile twisting his lips at his own word choice.

"Life ... it has a funny way of happening and ruining our plans, Sammy," Dean told him. He groaned as he slid down the wall to sit next to his brother. Sam had given him a good kick in his ribs that he was paying for now. "Our lives have been one big Improv act. We did the best we could with what we had."

"EXACTLY, Dean," Sam whispered earnestly. "We did our best, we fought demons, we saved lives, and we lost EVERYTHING that was precious to us!" Sam hissed through his teeth, his eyes shiny with tears. "We've given sweat, tears, and more than our fair share of blood ... haven't we? So why can't we keep the last thing we have left?" Sam pleaded. The desperation in his voice broke Dean's heart.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but looking over at Sam, he knew it was pointless. His mind was made up. And it wasn't as though Dean didn't agree with him, either. Sam was all he had left. Dean was never sure if Sam harbored the same fierce feelings of familial responsibility and affection that he did. So much had happened between them and as a Winchester rule, none of it ever got talked about. It was easier to do what they did without emotion clogging up judgment.

But if ever there was a time to put all the cards on the table, this was it. And Sam had just shown his hand, and Dean had to admit it felt damn good to know his baby brother loved him back. They spent so much time fighting for other people that now, on the eve of the inevitable, Dean couldn’t find an argument convincing enough as to why he and Sam weren’t entitled a final moment of selfishness. There was nobody left to disappoint or save or get hurt. So why couldn’t they keep the last thing they had left? He cleared his throat.

"So what? You just wanna Thelma & Louise it outta here then?" Dean asked, pushing himself to his feet. He held his hand out to Sam, who took it and hoisted himself up with its leverage. "Cause if we're both going, I say we go out in a blaze of glory," Dean said, plastering a smirk on his face. Sam rolled his eyes.

"As long as we don't have Bon Jovi blaring..." he mumbled, getting his coat.

"You never did have any taste in music, Sammy," Dean replied, opening the door of their hotel room. “And I’ll be damned if our last stand is made to some overplayed, radio friendly single sung by guys who wear too much eye make-up and look like little girls.” Sam made a sound of disgust as he passed Dean and made his way over to the Impala, parked right outside their door. He went to the driver’s side door. “What the hell do you think you’re doin?”

“Driver picks the music,” Sam started, opening the door and getting behind it as he looked back at Dean, “shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Sam punctuated his recycled remark with a slight nod of his head to the right and a raise of his eyebrows. He got in the car as Dean belatedly realized his keys were NOT in his jacket pocket.

“We switch at halfway point,” Dean told him in a grumpy tone as he got in the passenger’s seat.

“Half way to where?” Sam asked quietly. Dean sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Anywhere. Nowhere. Doesn’t matter, Sammy,” he responded. “All that matters, all that’s EVER mattered?” He sat back up and reached to open the glove compartment, pulling out the picture of their parents he’d kept in there for as long as he could remember. “It’s all here.” Dean’s eyes gazed upon the picture, then made contact with Sam’s, and swept the interior of his car. Sam thought of the picture of Jess in his wallet, nodded his understanding and agreement.

Sam looked in the box of cassette tapes in between them and pulled out the one labeled MOTORHEAD. Dean’s eyes almost fell out as Sam popped the cassette into the deck. Music started but Sam stopped it. Evidently, it wasn’t the song he wanted to hear. He hit the button to wind the tape, stopping and starting it a few times before he found what he was looking for, a smile appearing on his face. Sam turned up the volume. Dean returned the smile as “Born to Raise Hell” vibrated the Impala’s frame. Maybe Sammy’s taste wasn’t so bad after all.

"Good to know I taught you SOMETHIN," Dean told him. Sam turned the key in the ignition and backed them out of the last hotel parking space the beloved Impala would ever see. Sam pulled up to the parking lot exit, stopping the vehicle so they could look right and left. There was no light to be seen in either direction.

“Into the dark?” Sam shouted over the music. He puffed his chest up a little as his hands drummed against the steering wheel in time to the music. Dean took a moment to realize just how much of an impression he'd made on Sam without really knowing it. With a small smile, he sat up straight, mimicking his brother’s posture and attitude.

“Into the dark,” he repeated. And that’s exactly where they went, but they went together, and that’s all that mattered.