No!" Sam exclaimed, moving to come to your side, but Dean reached a hand out, grasping his shirt, stopping  his brother from helping you. Dean tilted his head, neither mad or upset about the fact that Death had just said you had to die. 

"Dean, please." You begged, unable to fight against Death's hold. "You don't have to do this." 

"Dean, this isn't you thinking clearly, it's the Mark." Sam pleaded.

"No, this is me. I need to stop this before I hurt someone else, kill someone else. Can't you see I'm evil?" Dean argued, letting go of his brother's shirt, pacing in front of him.

"Dean, you are not evil. You were willing to summon Death to make sure you could never do any more harm." Sam tells him, and you wanted to move next to Sam, to give him your support, but Death's hold was still too strong.

Sam continued on, standing in front of his brother, trying to make him understand. "You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. Both Y/N and I. That's not evil, Dean. You are not an evil man."

"That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way." You heard Sammy say very softly, his speech done.

Dean was quiet, staring down at his boots, and you felt a moment of elation that Sam had talked Dean into not doing this, but then he looked up, sadness mixed with determination. It was then you realized your fight was hopeless, that he had made up his mind, and nothing you or Sam could say was going to change that.

You felt tears slowly drift down your cheek, saddened by the fact that you might have to witness one brother kill the other. In all your time with them, with all the love the three of you had shared, you had never imagined it would come to this.

"There is no other way, Sam." Dean says. "I'm sorry."

You watched as Sam's body tensed up, before he let a punch fly, hitting Dean square in the jaw. Dean rubbed it for a moment before a smile crept onto his face. "Good." Was all he said, before his fist flew towards Sam, hitting him in the cheekbone.

Back and forth they went, each one hitting the other in the face, in the stomach, and you struggled against Death's hold, wanting to stop this madness, but Death wasn't letting go anytime soon. "Y/N, stop struggling. They have to get this out of their systems before Dean can kill Sam."

You watched as Dean pummeled Sam, crying out when he hit the floor, and Dean kept punching him in the face. "Dean, stop!" You pleaded, but he gave you a cold, detached look before he punched Sam again. It was too much for you to take in, and you felt your knees quivering, before they gave out on you. Surprising Death, he let go of you, and you ran over to try and stop Dean.

"Dean, please stop!" You exclaimed, trying to grab his arm and stop him. He gave you a quick look, shaking you off easily. You weren't deterred, you tried again, just as Dean swung his arm back, and his fist hit you right in the cheek. The force knocked you back, and you fell onto your arm, feeling the crunch of the bones in your wrist. Crying out in pain, you tried to get back up, wanting to stop Dean, but Sam had had enough.

"Okay, that's enough." Sam pleaded, one eye almost shut, bleeding from a split lip, a gash in his cheek. "That's enough." Using your good hand, you were able to stand up. Rushing towards Sam, you knelt on the ground, holding his battered head in your good hand. Sam struggled to push you back, worrying about you instead of himself. "Y/N, go. Please. Go and never look back."

For a second you considered it, but you knew you wouldn't do it. You had done your running one too many times, and now, even if you ended up dying, you were going to stick around. To the end. Giving a quick shake of your head, you watched as despair fully set on Sam's face.

He turned towards Dean, as Death came striding forward, his sickle in his hands. Leaning down he yanked you away from Sam. "Dean, you will never hear my say that you are anything but a good person. But you're right."

You stared down at Sam, not believing your ears. "Before you hurt anyone else you need to be stopped...at any cost." He continued. "I understand." He told his brother, his eyes full of tears, and you felt yours continue.

"Finally." Death said, but you tried to fight again. Even though Sam had given up, you couldn't. You weren't ready to give up on Dean yet, and you weren't sure you entirely believed Death's story. Raising your good hand, you punched Death squarely in the face, hard enough that you felt him take a step back. You looked at him in shock, in disbelief that you had just hit Death. "Y/N, you shouldn't have done that." He told you, before holding the sickle in front of him, slashing it down, and you felt it slice across your belly. 

"I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't want your death to happen this way. I did respect you. But you fought too hard, and I really need to get this over with." He said as he let go of you, and you slowly fell to the ground, holding your stomach tightly. Looking down, you noticed the blood that was starting to seep through your fingers.

Y/N!" Sam said, but Death had already given Dean the sickle, and Dean was holding it to Sam's neck, keeping him in place.

"Leave her. It's the end for her, and it's the end for you too." Dean told him, before arcing the Sickle behind him.

"Do it." He told Dean, staring up at him through tear stained lashes, and you wanted to pull yourself off of the floor, to try and stop it somehow. Instead you could only lay there, your blood slowly turning your shirt a deep, dark red.

"Close your eyes." Dean commanded, but Sam continued to look up at his brother with nothing but love and understanding shining in his eyes. "Sammy, close your eyes." He ordered again, and Sam whispered a soft "I'm sorry." before he complied. 

Seeing Dean standing there, the Sickle in his hands, towering over his crying brother had you sobbing, your pain forgotten. You knew that no matter what happened after, he would never forgive himself for killing Sam. 

As you grew weak from the blood loss, you saw Sam pull out papers from his coat, his hand shaking as he held them out to Dean. "Take these." He stuttered. "Let them be your guide. For when you find your way back, let these remind you what it is to love, and to be good."

He dropped them on the floor, and you could just make them out. They were pictures. One of Dean with his mother holding him. The other was of him and Sam hugging it out. The last one was your favorite. It was of you and Dean. Sam had taken it, while you and Dean were sitting on the hood of the Impala. You had fallen asleep in his arms, and he was glancing down at you, his gaze full of love.  That picture had a special place on your nightstand, but you had lost it the night the Steins had destroyed the bunker.

"It's for family that you must proceed." Death goaded Dean, trying to get the job over with. "You've become a stain, and this is the only way to fix things."

As you felt yourself growing weaker, you noticed the mix of emotions crossing Dean's face, from confusion and frustration, to yearning and love. He glanced between the pictures and at Sam, who sat there, giving him a reassuring nod.

Dean glanced over at you, his eyes full of grief and sadness, before taking a big swing with the Sickle. Closing your eyes, you didn't want this to be the last thing you saw before you died. Instead, you concentrated on all the good memories of Dean, letting them blind you to what was really happening in front of you.