Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. If I did, I would be entertaining myself in much more exciting ways...

First of all I have to apologise because I haven't yet seen the end of Season 4. I've got as far as 'I know what you did last summer' (what a cliff hanger, btw!) so sorry if this contradicts anything that comes up in future episodes that I haven't seen yet. Anyway, here it is - the end of the world!

Dean was angry.

Sam could tell it from the way he slammed the Impala to the brakes, from the stiff, hard line of his jaw, from the way his eyes flickered dangerously. He was a cobra just waiting to be poked. He wrenched the car into the parking lot of the motel and threw open the door with his good arm, the other pressed against his side, blood soaking the sleeve of his jacket. Sam pushed his way out of the Impala and rose to his feet, wincing as his head span slightly. He probably had a slight concussion... it wasn't that bad. He was more worried about Dean. Blood trickled into his eye as the two of them moved towards their room, and he wiped it away irritably. Dean jerked the door open and strode inside with as much dignity as he could muster. He retrieved a towel from the bathroom and was sitting down on his bed stripping off his jacket before Sam had even stepped inside. Sighing, Sam shut the door and locked it behind them.

"You should let me take a look at that-"

"Its fine," Dean growled.

"Its bleeding pretty badly, Dean-"

"I don't need your help."

Sam fought down a wave of fustration and tossed the keys onto the table. He moved over to his own bed and sat down on it slowly, aware that if he moved to fast his head might spin again. He pressed a hand against his forehead, trying to stem the bleeding, and kept his eyes on Dean. Dean had rolled up the sleeve of his black tee and wiped away the blood. He was twisting around, trying to see into the gunshot wound he had suffered at the hands of the shapeshifter they had just been hunting. He gasped in pain as he jarred the injury.

"Dean, please," Sam said, lowering his hand from his head. "Let me have a look."

"Oh, so you can help now?" Dean spat. "Well, that's just great."

Sam took a deep breath. "I was trying to help, Dean. I was doing everything I could. It knocked me over, there was nothing I could do."

"Really?" Dean said sarcastically. "Jesus, Sam, it was a simple job! We had it cornered! How the hell did you let it jump you like that?"

"You didn't move too fast either!"

"Oh no, no, no," Dean replied coldly. He jabbed a finger at his arm. "I got this because you weren't watching my back! I got this because I was out there alone while you were rolling around on the ground!"

"For god's sake, Dean!" Sam cried, his patience finally snapping. "It wasn't my fault! And you know perfectly well that I could have killed that Shapeshifter in a matter of seconds if you'd just let me-"

"Let you what? Use your freakish demonic mojo?"

Sam scowled at him. "Know what? That 'freakish mojo' is the best thing that's ever happened me. I can save people now Dean! I'm not helpless anymore! Oh no, wait, I am because you're to damn hard-headed to let me use my powers!"

"Because your powers are wrong, Sam! The god-damned angels told you they were wrong and you just don't give a crap! All you care about is yourself, just like usual!"

"You yourself said that those angels are assholes. And my powers actually help people, they save lives! What the hell is wrong about that?"

"What's wrong about it? What isn't wrong?" Dean demanded furiously. "What the hell would Dad think if he could see you now?"

Silence. Sam stared at his brother, and Dean stared straight back, as if he himself couldn't quite believe what he had just said. The silence stretched on and on, until finally Sam mustered up the courage to speak. His voice shook slightly, not only with hurt but also with anger.

"What did you just say?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he sat up a little striaghter. "I said," he said coldly, "If dad could see you now, he would hate you. He told me I might have to kill you. I'm starting to think he might be right."

Sam's mouth fell open, but no words came out. Dean turned away, pressing the towel against his arm once more. Sam gazed at him with a mixture of horror, confusion, anger and... and then everything fell away and he was just numb inside. It was the same numbness that had taken over after Dean had died, the same numbness that had sent him falling into darkness. Sam swallowed hard. Something was boiling up in the back of his mind, wild and furious. How dare he... how dare he say that? What the hell was he thinking? All of a sudden, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He just had to get out of there. He had to get air, he had to breathe...

He had to get away from Dean.

Before he could think about it any more, he rose quickly to his feet and strode to the door. But even as he put his hand on the handle, words were spilling out over his lips before he could stop them.

"Dad already hated me, Dean. Sorry I was such a failure as a brother, too."

He pushed the door open and moved out into the parking lot, slamming the door hard behind him. As if let loose, the rage rose up inside him like the rearing head of a snake. He strode out onto the road and began to walk down it, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn't care where he was going, he just wanted out. The sky above him darkened, as if mirroring his mood, and the first few drops of rain began to fall.

How god-damned convinient.

Sam pushed his already-wet hair out of his face, gritting his teeth to stop himself from screaming out loud. He had been so happy when Dean had miraculously reappeared in his life, but things had just been getting crappier and crappier. It was as if Dean didn't even trust him anymore. They were supposed to be brothers. They were supposed to understand one another. But Dean was just so impossible... he didn't understand...

"Why hello, Sammy."

Sam stopped in his tracks. Three things flashed through his mind - a) he was no longer alone b) that voice was anything but sweet and innocent and c) he had left his gun in the Impala. He swore under his breath, and then slowly turned around. A pretty young woman was standing behind him, her hair flamming red. She smiled and folded her arms, leaning her weight on one foot.

"How're you doing?"

Sam looked her slowly up and down. He knew evil when he saw it, and he could almost see it radiating out from this girl like heat. Even as he looked at her, her eyes flashed black and then back to normal again.

"Saw you leaving. I've been waiting to talk to you for a long time."

"You wanna kill me? Go ahead. I'm unarmed," Sam muttered.

She laughed. "I don't want to kill you, Sam. Quite the opposite."

Sam's eyes narrowed. Her tone was strange, not threatening but not exactly kind either. Sam frowned.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Syliene. And I have a little proposition for you Sam. You see, when I let Lucifer free, I want you to be the one by my side."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, that's funny."

"I'm serious. I'll need your power. And besides, you're a useful ally."

"Quit kidding yourself," Sam said shortly. "I'm not doing anything."

He turned to keep walking, and flinched. Syliene was standing right in front of him, her eyes black as coal.

"Sorry, Sam," she said sweetly. "This isn't negotiable."

Anyone like it? If its rubbish I'll trash it now. Please review!

SUPRNTRAL LVR.