Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I don't own Dickens.

Author's Note: Once upon a time SandyDee84 and I were having a chat and we decided that a Supernatural version of A Christmas Carol would be awesome. And then I did nothing about it. Until now.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta.

Summary: In the aftermath of learning what Dean did to save him, Sam has a choice to make. Who's going to help him make it?

Spoilers through to 9.09, Holy Terror.

The Choice of Sam Winchester

Prologue

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

(Emily Dickinson)

Sam thought he might be dead.

He wasn't in Heaven; he knew that much. Anyway, Heaven had been sealed. Maybe souls couldn't get through at all.

Maybe Sam hadn't earned Heaven.

But this wasn't Hell, either. Or Purgatory.

This was… different.

Sam looked around at the expanse of meadow. It stretched to the horizon in every direction, broken only by the black ribbon of the highway. The long grass was swaying softly, though there was no wind. Clouds roiled in the grey sky above, around a circle of light that was too pale to be the sun and too big to be the moon.

The silence was broken by a faint rhythmic clicking. It grew louder, though it was a minute before Sam realized that he was hearing a horse's hooves.

He turned in time to see an old-fashioned hearse, drawn by a surprisingly well-fed white horse, draw to a halt behind him. The driver was a wizened old man who looked vaguely familiar. He gave Sam a friendly nod before leaping down from the box and opening the door.

There was no coffin inside. There was, instead, a small table bolted to the floor. It was set with two places. A familiar figure was sitting at one of them eating a hamburger.

"Hello, Sam. Join me for lunch?"

Without a word, Sam climbed into the hearse and sat in the empty chair.

Death smiled at him, pushing a takeout bag across the table. "Eat. You must be starving."

"Thanks." Sam pulled another hamburger out of the bag and unwrapped it slowly. "So I… I really am dead this time?"

"You wouldn't be sorry if you were." Death's smile was anything but comforting. "That much I know. You really are extraordinary, Sam. Most of your kind flee from me, but you… You're not afraid. I don't think you ever have been." He bent and opened a cooler Sam hadn't noticed earlier. He pulled out two beers, opening one and handing it to Sam. "We have so much to talk about."

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet. Not unless you want to be."

"But my body –"

"Is a mess, yes. But Gadreel managed to hold it together. You can return to it… Or you can go on."

"Go on where?"

"That isn't my department, Sam. I don't deal in the metaphysics of good and evil. But I don't think you have much to fear from the afterlife."

"I want to go on."

"You certainly have the right. You've done your share of world-saving. Anybody would want a break… You don't have to decide immediately, though. You have time to think about it. Dean's trying to force Gadreel out of your body. Once he's done that, you can go back if you want."

"I want to –"

"Go on. I know." Death put down his fork and met Sam's eyes. "I seldom give advice, Sam. I'm not in the business, and mortals never want good advice in any case. But there's a battle brewing. It isn't like you to run from a fight."

"I'm tired of fighting."

"And what about your brother?"

Sam felt a flare of anger. "Dean lied to me. He tricked me."

"You're angry. I don't blame you. But the question, Sam, is, once it's too late to change your mind, will you blame yourself?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I seldom offer anyone this privilege, but I think you've earned it. We'll be stopping outside a motel in a minute. Room 6 is booked in your name. Spend the night there. In the morning you can either go on with me or… Well." Death smiled, and it was even less pleasant than the first time. "You need to remember, Sam, that I am inevitable. In the entire universe, I am the only constant. Come with me now or come with me later; a human lifetime is nothing to me. But it may be everything to you." The hearse stopped. Death nodded towards the door. "Have a pleasant evening."

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