“This won’t undo Sam’s memories, they are seared into his soul. Those two children made sure of it” Death explained. 

Dean looked at Sam’s unconscious form on the bunk, his pupils moving rapidly under his closed lids. Dreams…flashbacks…horrors, whatever it was, Sam was living them on his own…and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. 

Because Sam had to wake up on his own…Death had been very clear about it. 

“I could…reap him, Dean. Maybe it would be more merciful” Death said…and Dean looked at it. There weren’t traces of empathy in its eyes, just a mild curiosity. 

He shook his head. Sam dying  would mean that he would spend the rest of eternity with a flayed soul, suffering…even in heaven. Sam’s soul was damaged…there was only one thing he could do, really. 

But first Sam had to wake up, he had to face what was inside of his mind.

“You…you said that this would help him with what’s going on inside his head…” Dean said, tearing his eyes away from his brother’s face, from how peaceful he looked, and how much he was feeling he was anything but. 

“It is and it will, but you cannot fight this battle for him. He has to wake up on his own, if he does, you will know.” 

Death took a look around in the panic room for a moment, then he turned toward Dean, his eyes studying him, intently, and Dean felt its power, he had always looked at Death in the face, all his life had been about that…and it felt familiar and terrifying at the same time. 

“I want you to consider the consequences, Dean. I want you to understand that there is no turning back from this” Death said, caressing each syllable with his voice. 

“What other choice do I have?” Dean asked.

Really…what were the options? 

Death tilted its head on a side, “You do have plenty of choices, Dean. You always have, but you always choose this” He looked at Sam’s unmoving form as he said the last words.

“We’ll talk again if Sam wakes up” It said, before disappearing. 

Dean let out a sigh, forcing himself to move, to cover the distance that separated him from the bunk, from Sam. He sat next to his brother, his hand blindly reaching Sam’s wrist, taking some small comfort in Sam’s warm skin and in his steady heartbeat. 

If Sam woke up the ramifications of what he had done would become apparent.

If Sam woke up Death would be back, ironing the details of their agreement. 

If Sam woke up…none of that would matter. 

He had sold his soul once for his brother, he had gone to hell for him, part of him was still there, on the rack or holding Alistair’s razor, bleeding and carving into souls. 

In the end…it was always about the soul. His and Sam. One soul for two bodies.

It would just become official.

“God, Sammy…you will kill me when you find out…” Dean whispered.

- tbc-