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“Dad, please,” Dean gasped, choking on his own blood.
John couldn’t block that voice from his awareness, but he kept the revolver trained steadily on his younger son. Sam wasn’t strong enough to subdue the demon possessing him; his eyes shifted between yellow and hazel as he thrashed on the floor, and his head slammed back against the hard wood as he struggled to keep himself from lunging at his father.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice said, though whether it was the demon speaking or his son, John couldn’t tell.
"Dad,” Dean begged.
John steeled himself to pull the trigger. Sam understood, Sam would do the same thing, John was sacrificing his son to save lives, not for revenge. He’d make the same choice if it were Dean instead.
Maybe if he repeated that enough times, it’d be true.
He finally shut out Dean’s desperate words, but couldn’t stop from catching his breath as Sammy’s eyes—Sam’s, not the demon’s—met his for a second, and Sam knew.
Then his son turned away, stretched his arm toward his brother. “Dean,” he whispered again. It wasn’t a plea for intercession. It was goodbye.
The Colt’s deafening report drowned out Dean’s anguished, “Dad, don’t!”
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Content warning: This fic contains the implied or explicit death of one of the Winchester brothers.