Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn’t Sam’s fault he was a monster.

And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Dean’s fault that he stayed that way. It wasn’t going to be Dean’s fault that it got worse.

No, this was something he could do. Something he had to do. It was his job. Protect Sammy. Nothing was supposed to happen while he was around.

Sam stared up at him from the cold, stone floor. Dean fought down the sickness in his stomach at the sight. It tightened in a way he didn’t, couldn’t, understand. He could barely meet Sam’s eyes.

He’s a demon.

…Only partly?

Doesn’t matter.

He’s a monster.

….He’s Sam.

Monster.

Dean was terrified. Terrified of what his brother was. Terrified of himself that he could think that. Terrified of what he knew he had to do.

It was Sam. How could he think that of him? How dare he think that of his family, his own blood? Dean gagged again as the sick feeling rose against himself like a storm. Who was he to say what a monster was?

Dean turned to their captors.

“Take me. Use me for the spell. Take me and let him go.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and he hunched smaller onto the floor. His voice ran through Dean like a shot.

“Dean, no. I’m already there. I’m already a-“

He choked off, blinking up at his brother.

A monster.

Yes.

NO.

It doesn’t matter.

And it didn’t. Dean knew it now. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t even look at Sam anymore. He stared at the wall behind his head. He would give him this. He would give him a chance, even if he squandered it.

“No, Sam. I’m the only monster here.”

It wasn’t true, but he said it anyway.

The spell began. Chanting bellowed loud in Dean’s ears. The fire crackled and coated his vision. Sam’s body disappeared into the smoke. The burning on his skin crept slowly upwards.

“I’m scared, Sam.”

Dean’s mind felt hazy, but the force of Sam’s eyes on him gave him a second of clarity. Even blinded, he could feel them. He wondered, distantly, whether Sam thought he meant he was scared of him or of becoming the one thing he couldn’t handle. Maybe he meant both.

Dean’s mind sizzled away with the flames. There was a pressure. Deep in the base of his spine.

Give in. Give it over to me.

Dean heard himself gasp. He closed his eyes.

I hate you.

Give in.

…Yes.

There was only red when those eyes opened again. It felt good in the fog. Flames licking around its senses. In the fog, things were simple. A figure in the corner, covered in blood. A life to take.

The thing sunk its teeth into a warm throat, reveling in the rush of liquid pouring out. Sticky, metallic.

There was another figure coming up behind it. Smelled perfect. The squelch of claws in the figure’s chest echoed in the red smoke.

A third life sat hunched on the floor, head upturned, completely still. An easy target. Delicious. Claws extended, teeth bared, it leaned in, bracing for the satisfaction of tearing flesh.

NOT.

HIM.

The thing paused, turned, and left without another glance. It didn’t matter. There were plenty of lives out there to take. No reason to care about that one.

FIN