Freed (Part 3)

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No one knew what Sam was planning.

How could they? He didn't tell them. He didn't tell them that Death said stopping the apocalypse was impossible. He didn't tell them that their odds of winning were slim to none.

He didn't tell them that he knew he was going to die.

Because he saw the visions. He saw the different outcomes of this, and no matter how many different ways he tried to beat Alistar....

He always ended up dead.

There was no right choice.

So Sam had to make his own choice.

In every vision, Sam died by trying to live. He'd die before he could stop the very man he was trying to kill. That happened every. Single. Time. And it didnt take long before Sam realized the problem: It was his will to live that made him fail.

So he had to get rid of that problem.

He had to be realistic.

Not everyone was going to make it out alive. He knew that. Dean would die trying. Bobby would die trying. Trevor. Castiel. Himself.

It was just a matter of if they could get Alistar to die with them.

"No!"

Sam didn't expect to hear Dean's cry. He didn't expect to feel the hot air of the grenade as the explosion went off. But he did. He felt all of it. He felt the heat burn his skin. Felt his body explode into pieces until there was nothing left of him. He felt himself die.

But what Sam didn't expect most of all?

Was for himself to be standing in the middle of the field, fully intact after it all happened.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have been surprised. He had visions of the future for gods sake. His ex-boyfriend was a vampire. There wasn't much else the world could throw at him that should surprise him.

But this did.

"Why'd you do it?"

He frowned, glancing around the area to see everything had been frozen in place. Alistar was paused in mid-air, face full of rage. Dean had fallen on his knees, hands reached out towards him. A look of agony on his face. Trevor shielding his face from the heat of the bomb, Bobby standing a few feet away from him with the same posture. And Sam could see Castiel in the distance on the rooftops, horror etched on his face. And it wasn't until his eyes slide right beside him, when he saw it. There was a man.

Sam wouldn't have noticed him had he not jumped down from the building the second their eyes made contact. Because the man was very average looking. Beard. Curly hair. Average build. Nothing about this man stood out.

And yet everything about him did.

"I should be dead right now," Sam said slowly, unable to comprehend what was going on. "Why aren't I dead?"

"Ah ah, I asked my question first."

Sam frowned, glancing at the faces surrounding him. The alive and dead ones. "I had to stop him," he said, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "This was the only way-"

"But it wasn't," the man interrupted, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. "You could've had Michael take over. You could've gave your soul to Death. Hell, you could've just left and let the world go to shit." He tilted his head. "And yet, even after everyone has tried to help you, the visions you've gotten... you chose a different ending. A different story." And they stared at each other for a moment. Sam out of fear and confusion and the man out of excitement and curiosity.