Demon Dean

The Nightmare

Sam waited in the bunker for an hour, which turned into a day, which turned into a week. Still there was not a peep from Cas. Sam began to fear that something had happened to the angel who was now his only hope of getting his brother back. Sam ate little, and slept even less. when he did finally sleep though, he was plagued with nightmares. His mother and Jess burning on the ceiling, his father dying at the hands of that same yellow eyed demon. And now, his hands killing Kevin, burning his eyes out. These dreams were normal, even expected now, but the worst dream of all was the newest one. His dream went like this...

***

Sam held Ruby 's knife to Dean's throat, his hands shaking. Dean leaned in, until the blade nearly drew blood. His eyes were dark and soulless as an eclipse on a starless night as he peered into Sam's hazel ones, as if he could see Sam's mangled, twisted, blackened soul thrashing inside. As if he could see the darkness Sam tried so hard to keep at bay.

"Do it." Dean demanded. "I dare you, Sammy. Just do it"

Sam remained still, unwilling to kill the one person he had always counted on all his life. Dean was the one who had tucked him in, night after night as a child. Dean was the one who had kept the monsters at bay. Dean was the one who always forgave Sam, eventually. No matter how bad Sam screwed things up, Dean was always the one who cleaned up Sammy's messes, the one who protected him. There was no way Sam could ever do anything to hurt someone who had always done nothing but keep him safe. Sam lowered the knife.

"I knew you didn't have it in you." Dean said, a twisted smirk on his face. Dean casually waved his hand, and Sam slammed into the wall, so bard he was seeing stars. White hot rage went through him, and as Dean let him off the wall, Sam flew as him, only thinking of one thing, and that was to kill the demon in front of him.

Sam plunged the knife into Dean's chest, and suddenly, Dean's eyes cleared. They were green again, the green Sam knew so well. Dean hand slowly traveled to the blade that bad pierced his chest.

"Sammy?" Dean coughed out wetly, blood on his lips. "Sammy, how could you?"

The accusatory sound of Dean's voice, and the dead ends look in Dean's eye hurt Sam more than any pain he had ever felt. Nothing, not even being tortured by Michael and Lucifer had hurt like that did.

Sam held Dean in his arms, watched the life slowly drain out of him, while all Sam could do was watch. This, this moment was a greater torture than anything devised by man, demon, or angel. This was like watching everything you live for destroyed, like having your soul crushed before your eyes.

Sam ft the tears rolling down his face, tasted the saltiness on his lips. He watched as they dripped onto Dean's face, and Sam began to whisper. Six words. Always these six words, over and over into Dean's ear.

"I've failed you, Dean. I'm sorry."