A New Kind of Life (A Supernatural Fan Fiction)

Goodbye Stranger

Sam's POV

I held the gun shakily against the back of my brother's neck. My hand was sweaty and shaking and I didn't know what was happening or how Dean was alive, but I kept the gun there. Cas had told me his plan to cut out Metatron's Grace for the time being, until Castiel could find his own, or at least find a suitable replacement. But for that, Metatron needed to be alive.

That, and my brother was not himself.

I could tell. 

He wasn't the Dean I knew. He wasn't the Dean I held while he was dying. He wasn't my brother anymore. He wasn't. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. Everything told me. There was just this new cold-heartedness in him that I didn't know how to describe. Nothing making sense, I stood there, my jaw clenched hard as I stared.

Could I shoot my brother if I needed to? Probably not. How could I? I keep lying, saying I wouldn't save him, saying that I...I treated him like I didn't have the sick need for him. I couldn't really shoot him. I could never... But I had to use something to get him to let go of Metatron. I know he'd be even angrier to find that Castiel was dying and that he'd destroyed his friend's only chance at survival. Plus, Castiel and I had grown kind of fond of each other, and I didn't want to lose our nerdy, trench-coated angel.

My hand shaking, I studied the back of my brother's head. His hair was a little messy, but not that bad. He looked like he normally did, but I knew that it wasn't him. It wasn't him. Castiel and Meg had warned me that he was a demon, but I wasn't about to believe it. Maybe Crowley had brought him back, or the Mark came with eternal life, but he wasn't a demon. We hated demons. We had always searched to do nothing other than destroy them. I know we sometimes worked with them, and didn't always hate all of them the way we should've, but we still hated most of them. We still killed them.

Dean couldn't be one of them now.

"Hey, Sammy." He cackled, his voice sounding so different.

This was not my brother.

His voice sounded different. It wasn't like it had been. He had this cold, angry sense of humor in his voice, something that reminded me of Crowley, but ten times worse. It sent chills down my spine as I held the gun to the back of his head. He wouldn't turn around, and I wasn't sure whether I was grateful or not. I would never be able to shoot if I were looking him in the eyes.

He wasn't my brother, but I still needed to treat him like it.

"You've got to let him go. I know it sucks, but you have to. It's important that you don't kill him, and you'll regret it if you do. Just put him down and let Cas figure things out. Just come home and it'll all be good." 

"Who said I wanted to go home? This scumbag killed me and turned me into this. I'm killing him." He growled.

"Dean, please. You can't do that. It's important. Please, just come home. We'll get back to the bunker and we'll figure this out, okay?"

"What's there to figure out?"

"I... You're alive and you shouldn't be."

"Oh, so you want me dead?"

"No, I don't want you to be alive like this, because this isn't you."

"Oh, Sammy, but it's the only me there is. Only me there ever was. I'm just not hiding the ugliness inside anymore. What? Don't like what you see?"

"Dean..."

"Dean's not here anymore, Sammy."

Suddenly, before I could even begin to react, I watched him whip around. He grabbed my arm and twisted, causing me to drop the gun. Before I even realized what was happening, I was in the air, my brother's hand curled around my neck. It was impossible. I was taller than he was, and heavier, how was he doing this? But that didn't cross my mind. All that crossed my mind was the fact that he was going to strangle me.