The Apocalypse Will Go On As Scheduled [Supernatural]

The Road To Hell...

"Pretty good, though, Sam. Smart. Let me tell you, whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands." The Trickster barked a short laugh, waving the bloody stake for emphasis. "Holy 'Full Metal Jacket'."

Sam ignored him. "Bring him back."

"Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you the flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak."

"Just take us back to that Tuesday. Or Wednesday, when it all started, please," the human pleaded. "We won't come after you, I swear."

The Trickster looked skeptical. "You swear?"

"Yes."

An almost tangible ambivalence settled on the demigod's shoulders. "I don't know. Even if I could--"

"You can."

"True, but that don't mean I should. Sam there's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish, Cro-Magnon skull of yours."

Sam was confused at that. "Lesson? What lesson?"

"This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain." The Trickster's expression was somewhere between frustrated and sympathetic. "Dean's your weakness--the bad guys know it too. He's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go."

"He's my brother," Sam responded, the only reason he needed to pursue this madness.

"Yup. And like it or not, this is what life's gonna be like without him."

Desperation, thick and absolute, tightened Sam's chest. "Please," he pleaded. "Just...please."

Throwing up his hands, The Trickster rounded on Sam and closed the space between them. "I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall. How many languages do I have to say it in, Sam? The answer is--and will always be, forever and ever amen--no." Golden eyes softened. "I'm sorry, kid. It just has to be this way."