Blood.

It was all he could taste in his mouth, sharp and bitter copper filling his throat mixed with the acid flavor of pain. It was all he could smell, stale and old like the blood from a long dead corpse. It was all he could feel, coating practically every inch of his skin, dry and itching in his hair, stiff in his clothes.

His body felt like it had been torn limb from limb and then haphazardly stitched back together. Every part of him ached, deep into his muscles, into his very bones. Hurting in ways he hadn't hurt in a very long time. Maybe in ways he never had before. But he couldn't tell if it was a real ache or just a remembered pain. Perhaps it was both.

He wasn't dead. He should be dead. Though his mind felt shattered into a thousand pieces like broken shards of a mirror, somehow he knew that much. He knew he was alive because even as much as he hurt now, he knew he should be hurting so much worse. This pain at least was bearable. The agonies of hell were not. He was not in hell, and that meant he was alive. Somehow…

Slowly Dean forced his eyes to open. At first the dried blood sticking to his eyelashes wouldn't let him. His eyelids might as well have had lead weights attached to them for the amount of effort it took for him to do something so "simple". Focusing his eyes was another matter entirely, but gradually a spinning fan came into view. An iron grate in front of it in the shape of a devil's trap…

The panic room.

Sam…

Dean forced his head to turn. His vision darkened for a few seconds before he managed to focus again, and the sight of the younger man laying still on concrete floor sent a spike of fear driven adrenaline through him like an electric shock. He managed to get his arms underneath him and push himself up from the mattress. Not bothering to try to stand, not sure he could manage it, instead he crawled to his brother's side. His heart rate seeming to triple by the time he got his hands on the younger man and somehow managed the strength to roll Sam onto his back.

It was not so much the bloodied lip and bruise on the younger man's cheek that made Dean suddenly grow cold. It was more the familiar… darkness… Dean suddenly felt. Close. Very close. His father. Azazel… and he was not alone…

"Sam…" Dean whispered fearfully as he tried shaking the younger man awake.

He was cold. He hurt. He was exhausted down to his very last cell. And somebody had the nerve to try to wake him up? He groaned softly and licked his dry lips. He noted absently that he had at some point split open his lip. Maybe he had been in a fight? He was on his back on a cold hard floor. Maybe he was in jail for being drunk and disorderly? It didn't happen often, but hell, sometimes he did let himself cut loose just a little. His head sure as hell hurt enough for it to be a hangover.

The voice whispering his name seemed urgent and familiar. A comforting feeling washed through him as he finally associated a name with that voice. Dean. A smile drifted onto his lips and he reached out blindly. He wanted a kiss. He wanted his brother to curl up with him and they could both go back to sleep. His reaching hand touched cloth that felt a little stiff. He ran his palm up Dean's arm until he found Dean's neck and tried to pull his brother down into the kiss he wanted. When Dean seemed to resist, Sam's eyes slit open. That's when he felt it.

Sam sat bolt upright, sending his head into a spin and he nearly collapsed right back onto the floor. A darkness was near. A dark evil like he had never in his years of hunting ever felt. His breath caught as he got his hands placed on the floor to steady himself. His gaze went to Dean. Dean was coated in dried blood and what happened all came rushing back to Sam.

"You should have told me why we shouldn't join like that," Sam said, cupping his hand alongside Dean's bloodied cheek and running his thumb over Dean's lips. "I didn't understand. I'm sorry. I was being selfish and bull headed. I am so much like Dad it's almost scary." The fear in Dean's eyes nearly broke Sam's heart. "I screwed up. It's not your fault. He'll get through to us eventually. It's only a matter of time. We both know that. If I hadn't been so stupid, we would still be training instead of hiding. You could be chasing Rumsfeld around the yard. We could be tossing a baseball back and forth. We could be making love. Instead, here we are."

Sam slowly pushed himself up and walked unsteadily over to a pack of moist towellettes. He brought them back and practically collapsed beside Dean. Painstakingly he began cleaning Dean's face. He kissed Dean gently once he had wiped the blood away.

"Don't be stupid, Dean. Beg your father's forgiveness and go back to him. I can't protect you. You can't protect me. No matter what, you're still mine, even if you serve that bastard. Just don't kill Dad or Bobby or Jim, okay? Anything else and you do what he says. Please Dean. Please beg his forgiveness and go back to him. I don't want you hurt because of me."

Dean breathed a small sigh of relief when Sam began to stir but it certainly was not enough to erase the choking knot of fear in his throat that came with the knowledge that his demon father was so close by. Of course he’d known from the beginning that he couldn’t hide from Azazel forever, he never expected to… But he hadn’t expected it to be like this.

Of course he was afraid for himself. Afraid of the agony he would endure at his father’s, his former master’s, hand. But most of the fear, the sheer mind numbing terror he felt, was completely for Sam.

The peaceful, slow way that Sam woke ground Dean’s already shattered heart into dust. The small smile on his lips, the way he tried to pull him close…

He had failed his brother. He had failed him at every single turn. He had failed to keep Sam safe from Azazel. He had failed to teach Sam how to use his powers so the younger man might have a chance to fight their demon father. He had failed to kill himself to keep his darkness from tainting Sam…

Dean knew the instant that Sam opened his eyes, the way the younger man sat up so abruptly, that Sam finally felt it. Felt him. Of course Sam would be able to feel him. Sam had his father’s blood in him the same as Dean did.

When Sam turned his eyes to him, Dean couldn’t meet them. Looking down at his hands covered in his own blood. The shame of his failure, the strength of his fear, stealing his voice completely. Choking him. Not that he would have known what to say to Sam’s soft words. The younger man’s gentle touch. His brother’s apology to him…

How could Sam be so kind to him now in the face of such failure? Why hadn’t Sam simply let him die? Instead Sam had saved him… Yes, Dean remembered. Only in fragmented pieces, but he remembered. The pain. Dying. Sam using his power to pull him back. So strong… Sam was so powerful it was frightening… and it was that very power, that Sam had used to save his life, that had allowed Azazel to find him. If only Sam had allowed him to die…

Hot tears burned his eyes and left damp trails through the dried blood on his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to try to hide them or wipe them away. The cool touch of the wet cloth on his face, Sam’s soft kiss, nearly broke him.

It wasn’t until Sam’s pleading for him to try to beg forgiveness from his father, to attempt to “save” himself, to leave Sam, that Dean found the strength to look up and meet Sam’s gaze. A small pained smile forming on his lips despite the pain and fear he felt.

“Even if that was possible, if he couldn’t simply look in my mind and know everything I’ve done, I would not. My place is with you.” Dean said softly, growing silent when he felt a slight vibration shake through the floor. Dean looked up. The protections he’d managed to place around the house were strong. The panic room by itself was a near fortress. No, it wouldn’t hold forever. But there was still time…

“There’s still time. I can still teach you. I’m not letting him have you.”

He shouldn't be surprised that Dean couldn't go back. A small part of him had almost hoped that it had been a trick and that Dean was still working for Azazel and would be safe. That the demon could look in his brother's mind worried him. That meant there was no way to hide how much the brothers loved one another. It also meant the only way to save Dean was to beat Azazel. No, not just beat. Kill. Before the walls fell, he had to get Dean's soul away from Azazel using that spell Bobby gave them. He absolutely had to. That would be the only chance Dean had of not being destined to remain in Hell for eternity. That thought was wholly unacceptable.

Sam jumped a little when he felt the tremor through the floor. He wondered just how long the walls would stand and prayed it would be long enough.

Dean's determination to save him made him smile. He wiped away the fresh tears on Dean's face.

"And I'm not letting him keep you. I'm getting your soul back and we're going to kick his ass. I know when we join, with him owning your soul, it makes me vulnerable, but dammit, when we join we're all but unstoppable. Think what it would mean if your soul was your own, or even if I owned it. We'd wipe the floor with the bastard. That might be why he separated us in the first place. Because he knew just how powerful we would be together."

Sam pulled Dean into his arms and kissed him deeply. When he reluctantly broke the kiss he ran his hair through Dean's blood soaked hair. "I know we don't have much time, but we're both exhausted. A few more hours of sleep can't matter that much can it? I don't know how much I've got in me to train at the moment. But you're the boss. You tell me. Train or sleep? And in either case, you're getting a quick shower and changing clothes."

Dean certainly couldn’t argue with Sam’s reasoning. They were stronger together, they’d already figured that out before. That was almost a frightening thought because even as strong as he’d suspected Sam was, what the younger man had done to save him…

If he wasn’t able to train Sam to control that power. If Azazel was able to turn that power back on his brother. If it consumed him…

A small shiver passed through Dean before he could stop it.

If his soul belonged to Sam, he would no longer be a danger to the younger man. He could help Sam in ways he simply couldn’t now. They could “join” as Sam put it and maybe… Not that Dean really liked the idea of trying to steal his soul away from Azazel any more than when Bobby had first told him about the spells, but they didn’t have much choice anymore. Not to mention the spells were no more dangerous than what would happen to Sam if his demon master got a hold of the younger man.

His heart wrenched a little more as Sam pulled him into a kiss Dean knew he didn’t deserve. But as much as the guilt of his failure to his brother pained him, Dean couldn’t stop himself from kissing the younger man back just as deeply and desperately. Clutching at the younger man as though any second Sam might be ripped from his arms forever... Not so far from the truth…

Dean licked his lips as though to savor his brother’s taste, leaning his head into the light brush of the younger man’s fingers through his hair. Would it matter? No, not really.

“You need to rest. You’ll need all of your energy.” Dean finally said softly. A few hours either way wouldn’t make much of a difference. The spells Dean had placed were powerful. If the demon hadn’t already broken through them, that meant they were holding. Azazel had taught him well. It was probably a good thing that the demon had never considered that Dean might one day betray him…

They had time. Not much, but maybe enough.

Dean looked down at himself when Sam said he should shower and he had to agree. Even by his standards, he was disgusting. He wondered how Sam could even want to touch him. Nodding, Dean started to push himself up off the floor. His body of course protesting every little movement but he managed to get to his feet, even if he wavered unsteadily once he was on them.

The relief that filled Sam when Dean said they could rest a little longer made him exhale loudly. God he was so very tired. The thought of trying to train when he felt so completely wrung out was almost frightening. He barely had any sort of control when he was rested.

When he saw Dean was so unsteady on his feet, he rose himself and offered as much of a supporting arm as he could and helped get Dean over to what was little more than a camping shower. He got the thin stream of water flowing and even though it was cold and would be for a few minutes, the water was too precious to waste and he moved Dean under the cold rivulet without letting him undress first.

"Two birds with one stone," Sam said, helping Dean out of his blood soaked clothes, using the opportunity to rinse as much blood as was easily possible out of them while Dean washed off. He watched Dean run the soap across his skin and wished he could be doing that instead of rinsing out blood. Maybe later. If they had time.

He suddenly realized he himself was blood smeared from when he had cradled Dean in his arms and after handing Dean a big towel, he stepped under the shower himself. Crap that was still cold. He made quick work of getting the blood rinsed off of himself and his clothes then used the same towel Dean had to dry himself. He tossed their clothes over some hooks on the walls then guided them both back to the mattress. He handed Dean a fresh sheet out of the supplies Bobby had purchased and then retrieved a thick blanket.

"Lay down," Sam encouraged his brother and as soon as Dean had, he spooned himself up against him and pulled the blanket over them both. He set his watch alarm for five hours later. It would have to be enough.

"We get five hours, then we get to work," Sam said, snuggling up to his brother, holding him tightly in his arms and placing his chin on Dean's shoulder. He nudged Dean as he always had when he wanted a kiss and took the time to extend it, tasting Dean's mouth throoughly. Who knew when their time together would end and he didn’t want to waste any of it if he could avoid it.

"No matter what happens, I love you," Sam whispered in his brother's ear. He tightened his hug momentarily then closed his eyes. He prayed the walls wouldn't fall while they slept.

Dean was grateful for the younger man’s help when Sam led him over to the shower. He had to focus practically all his remaining energy just on remaining upright, and he didn’t think would have had any left for actually removing his blood stained clothes without help. The cold water didn’t really bother him, though he missed Sam’s hands on him when the younger man concentrated on washing out his clothes, leaving Dean the task of cleaning himself off. Which Dean did, as quickly and efficiently as possible, knowing now wasn’t the time for niceties.

He took the towel from his brother and stepped out of the way so that Sam could take his place when he was done. Again, he dried himself off quickly, and handed the slightly damp towel over to the younger man once he was done.

Of course Dean couldn’t help but admire his brother’s body, even now, but along with the spike of desire he always felt looking at Sam was a deep sadness at the time they could have spent together and would never have. He’d tried to speak confidently, when he told Sam they still had time, he even tried to make himself believe it, but he knew what the most likely outcome would be… he knew all too well…

He wondered just how far he could go to keep his promise to Sam, to not let Azazel have his brother. Would he be able to when the time came? If it came down to either letting the demon take his brother, knowing the torments Sam would face or… killing Sam… to spare him that pain…

Killing. He’d done it all his life. It had been so long since he’d ever felt hesitation over taking a life… he didn’t know if he could… even knowing how much more merciful Sam’s death at his hands would be than life as Azazel’s slave…

It was those heart crushing thoughts that left him mute, giving only a slight nod when Sam guided him over to the mattress. Feeling numb and almost… empty… as he laid down, even as his brother’s arms circled him with warmth and love. Even when he turned his head at Sam’s urging for the deep, slow, kiss he felt so cold, so sick, so much pain in his chest he could barely breathe.

He was glad that Sam couldn’t see the single tear that slipped from Dean’s eyes, quickly absorbed by the pillow against his cheek. He forced himself to close his eyes even though he wasn’t sure if he’d actually be able to sleep no matter how exhausted he was. But he knew he had to, he had to rest, had to find strength within him somewhere if he was going to be able to save his brother.

One way or the other…

Almost as soon as his eyes closed, Sam was asleep. He wasn't sure he was particularly grateful for that….

…he was sitting in the car alone. The soft sound of rain striking the metal roof of the Impala might have been soothing if not for the blowing wind, black shadows, bright sudden flashes of lightning and deep rumbles of thunder. He clutched the stuffed bunny tight to his chest. He looked over at the steering wheel. His father said if he saw anything in the dark he was supposed to press the horn. His Dad was hunting a rawhead. They were bad. They hurt kids, kids that didn't have brave dads to protect them. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and didn't even realize he began to rock a little, trying to find comfort even though he was really scared. He knew his dad would be disappointed in him for being scared. But he was. The sudden thump on the glass of the passenger's side window elicited a frightened yelp from him. He looked up to see a mutilated face that somehow reminded him of his father's but with sickly yellow eyes that glared in at him hungrily. He scrambled over to the horn of the car and pressed it again and again but his dad wasn't there. His dad didn't come. The glass shattered and Sam screamed as the rawhead's claws reached in and grabbed him, dragging him out. He saw his father's broken and bloodied body lying still in the mud by the front fender. "You're mine," the creature purred. "You always were," it told him as it dragged him away into the dark….

…it was a werewolf his Dad had told him. He held the .45 loaded with silver bullets loosely in his right hand. He couldn't get any image except the Hollywood werewolf out of his mind. The old black and white version. The werewolves from "The Howling" or "An American Werewolf in London." His father was tracking the wolf and Sam was taking up the rear, trying hard to see whatever mysterious marks his father was following, but it all looked like foliage and dirt to him. He could hear the distant sounds of the traveling carnival and thought longingly of Denise. He had promised her they could go to the carnival tonight, but noooo, his dad wanted him on the stupid hunt. He barely recognized his own voice as he screamed when the weight landed on him, when the claws cut deep gashes into his back, when the teeth tore into his neck. It growled and rolled him over onto his back. The werewolf looked nothing like its Hollywood counterparts. It dug claws into his chest and slowly drew them down toward his abdomen. "I made you," the golden eyed creature hissed. "And you'll serve me…."

…he hated fucking ghosts. Pop in, pop out. Disappear, reappear. Evil and angry eyes. Ready to kill, ready for revenge against anyone still alive. His dad had at least let him play in the soccer finals and his team had won. They were busy having pizza at Angelo's while he was stuck with a shovel, helping to dig up fifty year old bones. It was a simple salt and burn. Why couldn't it have waited a few more hours, or better yet, one more day? He felt the shovel his wood. Finally. Maybe they could finish up quickly and maybe his father would let him go to the end of the party. The ground collapsed suddenly and he found himself lying in a coffin on top of a handsome, muscular man with yellow eyes. The man grabbed him around his waist and held him there. He felt the cold spray across his back and smelled the lighter fluid. Salt came after, coating his back. He tried to scream to his father to stop, that he was in the grave, not to burn him but the handsome man covered Sam's mouth with his own, shoving his tongue down Sam's throat. Even while being kissed he could hear the man's voice. "I have such plans for you, Sammy." Then the lit match fell into the hole and the fire flared, his skin blistering and burning while he screamed…

…Chains wrapped around his arms and legs. He was face down and spread eagle and naked. He felt the sudden penetration of his ass by another's cock and shouted in pain. "I can't wait to have you, Sammy," the husky voice whispered in his ear as the person fucked him, pounding into him mercilessly…

…He stood in front of the mirror, using the razor to sweep over his stubble and the white shaving cream. Finishing up, he splashed water over his face then wiped it clean of the moisture and last remnants of shaving cream with a red towel. When he looked at himself in the mirror, yellow eyes stared back. His own eyes…

His eyes shot open and he convulsively tightened his arms around the body in his arms, holding it so tightly it was probably painful. His watch alarm suddenly began its beeping and he couldn't do anything but clutch Dean to him and tremble.

It was so dark. It was so cold. Black. So thick it was choking. Suffocating. Seeping into his skin. Into his muscles. Into his bones. Into his soul. It was everywhere. It was all he could feel. All he could taste. All he could smell. He was so cold. Even despite the warmth wrapped around him, all he could feel was cold.

Rage…

Hot. So hot. Burning like the fires of hell. Consuming him. Melting flesh from his bones. Scorching the very air in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe…

Fear…

He was so afraid of the cold. The dark. The rage. His father… he could feel his father. So close. The intensity of his father’s wrath would have sent even the most powerful demons into fits of weeping and pissing themselves in fear… and right now all that wrath was being directed right at him.

Failure. Betrayal. Weak…

But Dean could feel something else as well. Desire. Insatiable hunger. Not for him. Dean had been the focus of that desire before, but now he was nothing. He was worthless. No, that desire was for something else. Something Dean held treasured above all else.

Sam…

Dean’s eyes snapped open, his heart seizing in his chest like a fist was gripping it and ripping it out. He could practically taste Sam’s fear. His terror. He felt Sam’s almost violent trembling behind him, and rage flashed through him almost enough to match the level of his former master’s.

Dean’s power flared to life and he forced the demon’s presence out of his brother’s mind. Azazel’s power dampened enough by the spells Dean had created and the panic room himself he was able to… this time. As Dean turned in his brother’s arms and embraced the younger man fiercely his power wrapped around Sam in something like a shield, a bubble, to keep it from happening again… for as long as possible. His fingers ran gently through the younger man’s hair as he practically cradled his brother against him.

“I’m sorry… it won’t happen again… I won’t let him touch you.” Dean whispered softly even as he cursed himself. He never should have let it happen in the first place, but he’d been so drained… always failing. Why was he always failing Sam?

It was like nothing he had ever dreamed. It was so real. When he had gone to Dean in his dreams a part of him knew that was real but that nothing could touch him…except that one time as the scar across his back proved. But these dreams had been…different. He could feel the evil, the desire, the lust. It wanted him. It would have him. It would devour him.

He was a grown man. Dreams shouldn't be able to strike unfathomable fear inside of him. But these weren't just dreams. He had faced demons before, faced black-eyed, possessed people, but he had never felt the depth of evil that had been in his dreams in the form of this yellow eyed beast. He was ashamed of the way he trembled so violently and clutched his brother so tightly but he couldn't help it. This is what wanted him. This is what had reared his brother, abused his brother, turned his brother into a killer. And now it wanted him.

Dean's power practically blinded him, the rage in his brother almost overwhelming and he trembled harder. He knew he had power. He knew he had a lot of power, but he couldn't harness it. When the demon's presence was shoved out of his mind, he knew he hadn't done it. His brother had. He clutched his brother tightly as Dean embraced him and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. The gentle fingers running through his hair comforted him only a little. The small sphere of protection Dean wrapped him in helped a little too as all he could feel was Dean's love and protection. He tried to accept Dean's words as truth but knew in his heart they weren't. Azazel would break through the walls long before Dean would ever be able to teach Sam how to wield his powers. He would be at the demon's mercy and mercy was something he knew the demon didn't have. He had been able to believe he could fight the demon when it was an abstract being, when it was merely some supernatural evil like any other, but now he knew better. He suddenly wished he had never run away from his father, that he had stayed with his father and trained harder. He even wished his father had been more the taskmaster. It wouldn't have mattered of course. It wouldn't have helped him learn to use his powers.

After the adrenaline began to weaken and his shivers faded in the safety of Dean's embrace he pulled back and looked into his brother's caring eyes.

"We both know when he gets through that you aren't strong enough to stop him," Sam said softly, running his fingers over Dean's chest. "Even if I were fully trained, I might not be able to stop him. What…" Sam choked a moment then gathered up his courage to ask what he didn't want to know but needed to know. "What does it want with me? What will it do with me? Can we…will it let us stay together? Do you think I can ask him for that? Or will that just make him make certain I never see you again? How can I make the best deals for both of us to survive him? I said all the wrong things to you when we first met. How can I do better? How can I keep him out of my head? ….And I think we better get your soul away from him as fast as we possibly can. I think that needs to be our priority."

The expression in Sam’s eyes, the defeat he saw etched in every line of his face, dripping from his voice, nearly brought the older man to tears. At the same time it enraged him almost as much as when he’d felt the presence of his demon father invading his brother’s mind. Raping him… and now Sam was talking about simply giving in? After everything? Making a deal with Azazel…

No… NO!

Dean practically growled and before he knew it he had flipped them around so that Sam was pinned underneath him on the mattress. He was looming over the younger man even though Sam was bigger than him. Stronger. Holding the younger man in place not only with his powers but also a bruising grip on his shoulders. Not allowing Sam to look away from his angry, determined, gaze.

“You are NOT giving up! You are NOT going to make any deals with him! You are NOT going to be his!” Dean ground out between his teeth, ignoring practically all of Sam’s questions because they weren’t relevant. Because he was not going to let Azazel have his brother. One way or another he would not!

He knew Sam was afraid. Dean was afraid as well. He was beyond terrified. But he refused to submit to that fear. If one thing all his training had taught him was that. No amount of pain, no amount of fear, could distract him from his goal. And right now his goal was simple. To protect his brother. To protect Sam.

“No. I can’t fight him. Not like this. But YOU can! You ripped my soul out of the grips of hell itself! You have no idea how much power you have, Sam. But now Azazel knows, and HE is the one who is afraid. He knows he has to break you, to make you give in, before you reach your full potential, or you can destroy him.” Dean honestly hadn’t been sure that Sam could actually defeat Azazel, he’d never believed anything could, short of Lucifer himself, until now…

Dean reached up to cup his brother’s face in both his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks tenderly.

“I won’t let him have you. You are mine and I am yours. Always.”

Dean had him pinned so quickly Sam didn't even have time to react. He felt Dean using his powers to hold him and Dean's grip on his shoulders was painful. He wanted to look away in shame from his brother's furious gaze but he wasn't able to. The power Dean was using on him physically wouldn't let him turn his head or even drop his gaze. He wanted to believe Dean, he desperately wanted to believe him but Azazel was so very strong...and he was suddenly so very afraid. It was as if the demon had found all his secret fears and opened the box that held them without actually releasing the objects of his fears, just the fears themselves and those fears permeated his very being.

He'd saved Dean because going on without him simply wasn't an option. He couldn't lose anyone else. He needed Dean so badly it was almost frightening. But how could the demon be afraid of him? Dean had said it himself. Sam wielded his powers like a club and sometimes that club tried to turn itself back on him.

Azazel would want to...break him? His own father had trained him hard, had taught him to push himself and he had spent his share of nights crying because of it, because of moving all the time, because of being lonely, because of aching, because he couldn't ever seem to do a good enough job for his dad. But he also remembered all the strength he had gained watching Dean go through his own trials. Of how to bury pain and fear. At one time it was almost second nature to him too, because he wanted his dream friend to be proud of him as much as he wanted his father to be proud of him. When had he lost that?

He supposed he hadn't lost it, not really. He had certainly faced Dean in the old mill fearlessly. When his emotions took over he knew he was a force to be reckoned with. As ripping Dean's soul out of Hell and bringing him back proved. Was he scary powerful? He had asked Dean that not so long ago and Dean told him he was. But powerful enough to beat something that had once been an angel? Still, the look in Dean's eyes told him his brother really did believe Sam could destroy Azazel. It wasn't merely wishful thinking. Dean really believed Sam could do it, and it was undeniable that Dean would surely know just how strong the demon was.

Azazel would try to make him give in...give in to what? His powers? Azazel's control? Would he trade himself to save Dean? ...Yes. But Dean didn't know how to be free and there was no one else to take care of him. Certainly his father, or even Bobby or Jim would watch over him, but Sam knew Dean wouldn't be happy with any of them as his master. They didn't...understand...like Sam seemed to. And simply put, Dean would expect sex. That's what he was reared with, that it was part of who and what his master was and with his father, Bobby or Jim, he would be forced to be celibate. Not that there was anything wrong with being celibate, but it wasn't something Dean was accustomed to and it would be a hard adjustment. Sam doubted Dean would be gentle with someone he 'picked up' if he would even try to pick someone up. Dean didn't understand. Dean would hate having Jim as his master. Bobby…there seemed to be some sort of level of trust there and one that could grow, and his father? His father would try too hard, would be too impatient no matter his good intentions. It would likely end in disaster. And if Sam owned Dean's soul and traded his own to protect Dean then did that mean, by default, Azazel would once again own Dean? Well if he owned Sam he could simply order Sam to hand over his brother's soul and Sam wouldn't have a choice unless he brokered it into the deal. Dean didn't want him to make deals with the demon but how else could he protect Dean? The only option was he had to learn and learn fast. Would Azazel teach him anything before he was able to control him? If Sam hadn't come into his full potential as Dean put it, by the time the walls fell, could he get the demon to teach him? If he let Azazel use Dean as a tool against him he probably could. But he would need to keep Azazel out of his head or only let the demon see what Sam wanted him to see....

The gentle touches on his cheeks and Dean's firm promises gave him strength. Dean already admitted he himself couldn't beat the demon, yet he promised he would keep Sam safe. How could Sam do any less than try?

Strong emotions enabled him to control his powers, so he focused on pushing down his terror and grabbing hold of Dean's determination and the faith Dean had in him. His control was wobbly at best, but he managed to break the hold of Dean's powers.

"I won't give up. Teach me how to keep him out of my head. Teach me how to keep him from reading my mind, and then help me do the spell to get your soul. Even if we're taken, that will buy me what I need to save us. I will save us Dean. I'll destroy him. For you. I promise you that. I won't deal, and even if he takes me, I won't be his. I'll be yours. Always and only yours." He ran his hand over the side of Dean's face as he smiled with confidence he didn't entirely feel. He pulled Dean down into a kiss. "Always," Sam repeated with determination.

Dean couldn’t help but smile when Sam took control of his powers and managed to break his hold on the younger man. Unlike before when Dean had told the younger man to do this, he had only been exerting a small amount of power. Making it “easy” for Sam. This time, he hadn’t been. Sam was so much more powerful than he realized. The younger man only had to believe it.

Sam’s promise that he would not deal with Azazel pacified Dean, and he certainly did not resist when the younger man pulled him down into a tender yet deep kiss. Moaning softly in pleasure and love as their tongues met and twined together.

Dean could still feel the rage of his demon father at what he had done, what he was going to do, but Dean did not care. He was going to protect Sam. He was going to teach Sam. Teach him to keep his mind shielded so the demon could not enter it to manipulate his thoughts or his control his actions. He would teach Sam how to use his powers as a weapon, or as a shield. He would teach Sam how to control lesser demons, like hellhounds. He would teach Sam how to kill…

He would even teach Sam the control he needed to use the spells that would steal the ownership of his soul away from his demon father and give it to Sam instead. If it would save Sam, if it would keep the younger man from doing something foolish like bargaining with the demon then Dean would do it.

But one way or another he would not let the demon take his brother. One way or another he would save Sam. Reluctantly Dean sat up and got off of the younger man, smiling down at Sam as he grasped his brother’s hand and pulled him up. Abruptly the smile slid off his face and Dean was all business.

“We need to get started. Get up, get dressed. I will teach you everything I know.” Dean said, as he moved to do the same. He stood and grabbed a pair of jeans out of a bag and put them on. When he turned to his brother his voice deadly serious as he warned, “And I will not hold back any longer. We don’t have time for me to hold back.”

As Dean spoke he called on his power and felt it answer to his commands as effortlessly as always. Crackling around him like dark electricity, ready to strike. There was no time anymore for simple lessons like floating books and that nonsense. He needed to teach Sam how to fight, and the best way to do that was through actual combat.

“Are you ready?”

When Dean pulled him to his feet, Sam could feel as much as see the change in Dean’s demeanor. Sam dressed quickly in pair of jeans and t-shirt, wondering where they would begin. The hair on the back of his neck rose with Dean’s warning. His mind flashed back to the old mill but then he hadn’t known, or at least had refused to acknowledge he had any power.

He seemed to have better control, and increased strength if he let his emotions rule him and if he didn’t try to make things happen but simply desired for something to happen. He turned to face his brother and could feel the dark power that swirled around the man.

With Dean’s question he took a deep breath. They were going to go head to head. Both of them were going to come away from this hurting.

“Not just yet,” Sam said, the tone of his voice hard, making it clear Dean was to wait. He walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the first aid kit. He made sure they had everything they would need fully stocked. Satisfied, he put it back in the cabinet knowing anything loose was a potential weapon or shield. He moved a couple gallons of water into the cabinet beside it, a loaf of bread and some peanut butter, and then grabbed a couple blankets to throw in there as well. He grabbed the mattress and pulled it as out of the way as possible. He considered putting it in the other room, but figured it was probable that their fight would span every open area. The most important things were ready for whenever the battle was over and would be accessible without a great deal of work on either of their parts. Certainly in a real fight they wouldn’t have these luxuries, but they did now and the sooner they could tend one another and get back to training, the better.

He turned from where he placed the mattress. He couldn’t just open up and let his powers flow. He knew he wasn’t ready for that unless his or Dean’s life was in danger. He took a moment to focus himself, to call up his emotions and try to get a handle on what he was about to do. He knew Dean would strike first and he would prefer it that way. He would rather be more defensive this first battle, at least to start out. He focused on the recent deaths that were his fault, on what the demon master had done to his brother, even on what his brother had done to his father. He let it simmer inside him until he felt like he could risk opening Pandora’s Box.

Meeting Dean's gaze with a steady gaze of his own, Sam's face turned hard. He braced himself as he gave a sharp nod. “I’m ready.”

Dean said nothing, merely nodding when Sam asked him to wait. He would give the younger man whatever time he thought he needed to prepare. Even though minutes, hell, seconds were more precious right now than food or water. They couldn’t be wasted.

He had to try to teach Sam years worth of control within hours, maybe days. Even if he had weeks, or months, to try to do it in it would have been a near impossible task. They did not have that time any longer. He could really only hope it would be enough time to teach Sam just enough control that he would be able to face their demon father. Even if he couldn’t teach Sam the fine control that Dean himself had… even battering rams had their uses when pointed in the right direction.

To be honest though, as he watched the younger man moved certain things into “safer” locations so they would not be damaged, he was grateful for the time to prepare himself. He was still a little weak but considering Sam probably wouldn’t be able to match him yet anyway that was probably a good thing. As Sam got stronger, so would Dean recover, and hopefully by that time Sam would have enough control not to accidentally kill Dean.

Not to mention everything inside of him rebelled at the idea of not only attacking Sam but possibly hurting him. He would try not to injure Sam too much, because if Sam was too injured to fight Azazel the whole thing would be pointless anyway. But bruises, cuts, perhaps even broken bones would probably be unavoidable and the very idea made him feel a little ill. But it was necessary. Just like the day they’d first met, when his orders had been to attack Sam in order to awaken his powers…

They would be going much further than that today.

When Sam finally indicated that he was ready, Dean gave a barely perceivable nod. That was the only warning he gave the younger man before Dean lashed out, the black power answering his command without hesitation as he threw his brother clear across the room into the opposite wall with probably a bone jarring force. Dean moved fast, not waiting for the younger man to recover, before he was on Sam, striking out with his fist connecting squarely to his brother’s jaw. As he had promised Sam, not holding back, forcing Sam to concentrate not only on countering his powers but also physical attacks.

Fuck! was the only thing that came to Sam's mind as he was lifted from his feet and then even that was practically erased from his thoughts as he hit the wall so hard his teeth rattled and the back of his skull took a solid thump to it. He was still reeling when Dean was on him, punching him hard across the jaw. Sam latched on to his survival instinct and let his own power lash out, returning to Dean the gift of flight. Unfortunately he didn't get enough behind it to throw Dean into the far wall and he was still reeling a little from his own impact and blow to the chin. Dean was already on his feet and charging Sam. It wasn't a conscious thought but Sam knew he needed to buy time and the most immediate tool at hand was a metal folding chair. It was behind Dean and he lifted it and slammed it across Dean's head and back. They weren't playing games and Sam knew he could heal Dean if he did any serious damage. At least he hoped he could since he still didn't really know how he did that either.

Dean stumbled, giving Sam that extra second he needed to get his feet under him. Physically Sam knew he was a competent fighter so going in hand to hand with Dean wasn't what he needed even if the man might be able to show him new tricks. It was his mental abilities that needed the workout. He tried to focus on being a battering ram and slamming his powers into Dean's chest and pushing him back. As before, whenever he focused, his powers refused to cooperate and instead he felt them flail like that damned octopus he equated them to, one of his own "tentacles" swatting him even as another couple attacked Dean. He felt the power's hunger, felt it ready to grab and attempt to entwine and devour Dean's. Sam couldn't be certain if that would be very very bad or very very good and decided the former was more likely. Pissed that his own abilities had further increased the ache in his head, he pulled all the tentacles back, fully aware he was vulnerable at the moment and fully expecting Dean to take advantage of it. This fight was pointless though if he didn't keep the dark energy under his control.

Dean didn’t let himself feel the regret or pain that attacking Sam like this caused him. It needed to be done and he couldn’t afford any kind of pity or remorse for his brother any more than he would feel for another demon. So even though he was pleased with the way Sam retaliated, hitting him hard enough with his powers to send him flying and landing hard on his back, Dean was up again in a second, snarling. Charging for Sam again, readying for another strike…

The chair that hit him squarely against his back and head surprised him however and sent him sprawling again. The edge of it catching his scalp just right and Dean felt the trickle of blood down the back of his head and neck along with the pounding headache the blow had caused.

Good. But not good enough. As Dean rose again he could feel Sam struggling to reign in control of his powers, and Dean used the younger man’s distraction to his advantage. Though a few of Sam’s wild tendrils of power smacked at him he was able to push them aside easily and he aimed a powerful blow straight to Sam’s chest in return. Knocking the air out of the younger man’s lungs and back into the wall.

“Stop thinking so god damned much! When you breathe, you don’t think about expanding your lungs. When you punch, you don’t concentrate on how every muscle moves in your arm. React! Attack me! Hurt me! If you can’t kill me, you’ll never kill Azazel.” Dean shouted before he used his power to sweep up several canned goods off of a shelf and launched them at his brother.

Sam found himself slammed into the wall again and gasping for breath. The chest hit was exactly what he'd been trying to do to Dean and that just pissed him off more. He knew what Dean said was correct but he felt like he was in a dark and unfamiliar room hunting for the light switch.

He had to make his own light but he just didn't know how.

Brute force was an option. He knew he could put Dean on the ground with a mind blast if he opened everything up as he had done twice now. But again, that didn't teach him control. Picking up an Uzi and firing it in every direction didn't teach you how to shoot a gun. Just meant you could pick it up and pull a trigger. That he could do. He need to learn how to aim.

He got thwacked in the face by two of the cans before he realized they were coming at him. Because he was thinking too damned much. And they god-damned hurt. He diverted the rest before they hit him, launching them at Dean in return. He broke the hold Dean had on him that held him against the wall and imagined himself giving Dean the hardest uppercut he could, only he used his powers to do it. When Dean fell back, he pinned Dean to the floor. This was the first time he had tried to hold someone like this so he didn't make any other move, trying to sense how Dean might try to break it, trying to sense if Dean was reaching out with his powers to move something to throw at him, trying to sense any sort of counter attack.

Dean managed to dodge the cans that Sam threw back at him, unfortunately the momentary distraction allowed Sam to break the hold that Dean was using to pin the younger man against the wall. The incredibly powerful blow underneath his chin completely took him by surprise however, making him see stars and as Dean fell back he tasted blood in his mouth.

The crushing weight on his chest as he was pinned to the floor centered him however and Dean lashed out with a growl. His power twining around the loose tendrils of Sam’s power and squeezing like he was choking the life out of them, and then shoving everything right back into the younger man’s face.

Dean rolled to his feet. Switching tactics again to a physical fight, punching Sam in the stomach and then elbowing the younger man’s back when his brother doubled over. A strong shove, combined with his powers, sent Sam sprawling onto the floor, pinned in place where Dean had just been.

“I said attack me, god damn it!” Dean yelled as he stalked over to the younger man and kicked Sam in the ribs. “Stop holding back! If I have to I’ll kill you! You should have just left me in hell if you’re not even going to try! I’ll just end up back there anyway, but at least there’s a chance you’re soul will be saved!”

Dean didn’t even realize he was saying much more than he probably should as he tried to bait Sam into using his powers like he knew the younger man could. The same way he had baited Sam by using the younger man’s father strung up like a piece of bleeding meat.

It was a strange feeling, like Dean was grabbing his arms and twisting them hard only it wasn't his arms, it was his "tentacles" but it hurt a helluva lot more than if it had just been his arms. Then Dean swatted the tendrils aside like they were mosquitoes while Sam was trying to recover from the pain and the distraction it caused. His power slammed back into him just as painfully and he was so busy trying to regain his mental balance that he didn't even begin to try to defend himself from Dean's physical attack. He barely saw it coming.

Fuck, he was still trying to regain the wind knock out of him earlier when the punch to his gut doubled him over and then he was on floor smashing his chin painfully on the concrete as he was held there. His head was pounding, he could barely draw in a decent breath, Dean was yelling at him, and then he felt the blow to his ribs. Nothing broke but Dean had badly bruised them and Sam gasped from the pain.

He wasn't holding back! He was trying to learn! And he was not going to let Dean end up in Hell. No way no how. Dean's words turned his mouth dry. In the pit of his stomach he knew Dean would kill him to keep him from going to Hell. He couldn't very well save his brother if he were dead. Dean wanted a fight? He would god damned give him a fight, fuck learning control.

He opened it up, opened it all up and let it blaze. He lashed out with all his anger, tossed off Dean's hold on him effortlessly and pushed himself to his feet. He twisted a part of his power golden and let it heal him while he kept Dean frozen in place. He could see Dean's power, see the roiling cloud of darkness, see its tendrils. He tilted his head as he studied them a moment, then he let his power do what it had wanted. Twine with Dean's. He wanted to know Dean's secrets of control. He would take those secrets for his own. He drove his power into Dean and sought out those secrets at the very source of his brother's powers…and found it chained, Azazel's mark on every link. Dean wasn't weak. He was shackled and never even knew it.

He had told Sam that he wasn’t going to hold back. He had warned the younger man that he couldn’t. If Sam couldn’t learn to muster up a defense against him after all there was no hope for Sam lasting more than a second against Azazel. So as much as it killed him, every pain he was causing the younger man perhaps wounding Dean more psychologically if not physically, he kept his promise. Prepared to beat his brother down within an inch of his life if that’s what it took to teach Sam how to use his powers effectively… even to take that last inch if there was no other alternative…

His last threats seemed to get through to the younger man however and Dean wasn’t sure to feel relieved or worried when he felt the powerful release of power from his brother. Sam throwing off his hold like Dean’s efforts to contain him were nothing at all and entwining around him instead making the elder man unable to move a muscle.

Dean couldn’t speak. He could barely breath in fact Sam held him so tightly and no matter how he struggled to break Sam’s power wrapped around him he couldn’t. It was like running into an immovable brick wall.

Despite the fact that Dean was pleased with his brother’s accomplishment and the amount of control that Sam had managed, when he felt his brother’s power begin to twine around his… pushing deep into his mind and soul… like before… Fear instantly replaced any other emotion. Through him, Azazel could reach Sam. No…

NO!

Of course Dean tried to resist, tried to force Sam out of his mind, but it was useless. His efforts only causing him pain, like slamming a fist into a wall over and over even after knuckles were bloodied and every bone was shattered in the hand. If Sam’s power still hadn’t been holding all of his muscles frozen he probably would have dropped to his knees in agony by that point.

Sam… stop… please…

Dean felt his brother’s momentary shock. His distraction. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and shoring up every last ounce of power he hand he threw Sam out of his mind with enough force to knock the younger man back physically. Sam’s control over him broken, Dean collapsed to the floor gasping for breath and trembling, blood pouring out of his nose and even trickled from his ears.

“No…” He barely managed to choke out.

Sam stumbled back, barely keeping his feet under him when Dean shoved him out of his mind. He didn't think he could be any angrier with the demon for everything it had done to his brother, but this, this was a brand new level of fury. A part of his mind tried to point out if Dean's powers hadn't been shackled, Sam and his fellow hunters would almost assuredly be dead now.

But Azazel gave Dean these powers, trained him mercilessly in how to use them, keeping them bound all along. His brother was right. Azazel was afraid. But not just of Sam. If Sam could break those shackles on Dean's powers that demon bastard didn't stand a fucking chance. He doubted he could break those chains so long as Azazel held his brother's soul, but once they had stolen it away? Maybe the shackles would also fall under the ownership of Sam.

He realized abruptly that Dean had collapsed and was bleeding from the nose and ears. He hardly thought as he rushed to his brother's side and wrapped his healing powers around Dean, gathering Dean in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered softly, feeling Dean's injuries fade under the golden glow. He ran his hand over Dean's hair. "You told me not to join with you but my powers, they want to. It's hard to stop them." Sam stared into his brother's eyes. "He's chaining your powers Dean. Did you know that? He's keeping you from using most of them."

Dean felt the warmth of Sam’s healing power wrap around him almost before he felt his brother’s real arms. Both were a comfort and he couldn’t help but sag exhausted into the younger man’s embrace. Marveling a little at the level of control and power Sam was displaying even after one “lesson”. One brutal lesson, but still, no more so than Dean had endured during his own training and it had taken him years to learn that kind of control.

“Don’t be sorry. You did well…” Dean began to wave off his brother’s apology thinking the younger man meant injuring him so badly. Not like Dean hadn’t given Sam just as bad, and Dean had far worse during his own training… but Sam continued and he realized what Sam was really apologizing for. For doing what he’d told him they couldn’t.

Dean didn’t understand why Sam’s powers wanted to join with his so badly, he had never had that kind of reaction before, not even to Azazel. But whatever the reason they had to keep it from happening. If the demon managed to reach into Sam’s mind through Dean’s all their efforts would be meaningless.

When Sam revealed what he had “discovered” for a few moments Dean could only stare at the younger man dumbfounded. Chained? Of course Dean knew his soul was chained, bound, to the demon master he once served. But… his powers…?

“No.” Dean whispered softly. He hadn’t known. He wasn’t sure he even believed it, but why would Sam lie to him? How could his powers be chained? He could use them freely. Azazel had taught him how to control his powers. Why would he chain them? The answer seemed pretty obvious but Dean’s mind simply refused to wrap itself around the idea.

“We should rest a while before we begin again.” Dean finally said as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the younger man’s shoulder. He was reluctant to waste the time, but he was simply too exhausted from struggling with Sam’s power at the end.

Sam had to admit, rest sounded good. He felt as exhausted as his brother looked. He was reluctant to get up and leave Dean's side, comfortable with Dean leaning up against him. Looking over at the mattress beside the wall, he tried to focus on moving it over to them and suddenly stopped himself. Stop thinking so god-damned much. Dean's words echoed in his mind. He just had to want it there. He couldn't 'focus' on it. He tried to put the desire into his heart, into his mind. And the mattress just sat there. Anger flashed inside of him. He wanted that fucking mattress at his side so he and Dean could sleep on it!

It practically flew across the room and settled beside them. Casting a glare on the blankets by the wall, he decided wanted those too. As with the mattress, they were suddenly beside them.

"C'mon Dean," Sam urged gently. "Get on the mattress." He helped his tired brother onto the air mattress, spread the blankets over them and spooned himself around his brother. He threw his arm protectively over Dean and pulled him close, kissing the back of his neck and then his cheek. "Sleep," Sam whispered.

The last time he had slept he had had those terrible dreams. So he just held his brother against him and tried to rest his body. He didn't want to go to sleep. Maybe after Dean got a few hours of sleep, maybe then he would permit himself to sleep, but not now. He couldn't face those yellow eyes again. At least that's what he told himself as his own hazel eyes drifted closed.

Dean’s eyes slid open when he felt the flare of his brother’s power and he smiled when first the mattress and then the blankets landed beside them with very little effort on Sam’s part. Remembering clearly how the first book Sam had tried to levitate ended up this was a definite improvement. Maybe he would have time… maybe he would be able to train his brother…

After he slept.

Dean felt like he didn’t even have the energy left to nod when Sam suggested that they move to the mattress. He simply allowed the younger man to get him up and guide him onto its admittedly more comfortable surface. Letting Sam arrange them both and sighing contentedly when the younger man practically wrapped around him.

Despite his exhaustion however he made sure that the web of power he had wrapped around his brother earlier to keep Azazel out of Sam’s mind was still firmly in place. It would remain so, even as Dean slept. He would not let the demon touch his brother in any way.

When Sam whispered for him to ‘sleep’ Dean had barely let his eyes close before he did just that.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he slept, perhaps only a few hours. When he woke however it was to his own gut wrenching screams.

The pain lancing through him was at a soul deep level. He could only equate the feeling to if his skeleton was being pulled out of his skin one bone at a time and on one level of his consciousness that wasn’t completely consumed by the agony of it he remembered telling Bobby how Azazel could steal his soul right out of his body if he wished it… and knew that was what was happening to him now…

Sam was surprised that he slept so soundly and without nightmares or even dreams. His mind embraced the rest. While the gold part of his abilities healed him, it still sucked energy from him. He was so comfortably snug up against his brother, feeling his warmth and even his love that it relaxed him into one of the most restful sleeps he thought he had had in days.

At least, until Dean went rigid in his arms and Dean's agonized screams poured from his throat.

He felt it. He could practically see it. Chains and hooks buried deeply in Dean's soul were being tugged tight. Azazel was attempting to reap Dean's soul. No, God dammit, Dean was his! Using his powers he grab grab hold of those chains and of Dean's soul. Azazel was not getting his brother!

Sam's power travelled along the chains to the source and he slammed everything he had into Azazel, absolutely everything. He felt the demon stagger a bit and the grip on Dean's soul seemed to loosen. Back in the physical world, somehow Sam managed to let go of Dean's writhing body while still trying to pull the chains away from the demon, and forced himself to his feet, staggering over to the table where he knew the book was. The book opened itself to the spell. He let his eyes fall upon the spell, every rune immediately understood, every nuance of every word suddenly known. As he read it over, he saw it had all sorts of requirements for spell components. He didn't have the time for such nonsense. He grabbed the first sharp knife he found and returned to Dean's side. He didn't need the spell components. They were used to lock onto the object of desire. He had his desire in front of him. Using his powers he immobilized Dean. He was stretching his abilities to the max and he knew it. He felt he was being ripped in multiple directions: holding Dean frozen, fighting off Azazel, hanging on to the chains, and now beginning to work the spell. He couldn't afford to permit himself thought though. He wouldn't lose Dean. Using the knife he began carving runes into Dean's chest, crimson welling up around each draw of the blade as he chanted the spell that was seemingly etched in his mind.

Azazel gave sharper tugs as he tried to extract Dean's soul and each tug made Dean scream louder. A part of Sam's powers tightened their hold on the chains. He couldn't afford the fight. He simply had to hang on to the chains and finish the spell. Sam chanted loudly, his voice reverberating in the metal walled room. He completed the first half of the spell then turned the knife on himself. He inscribed his own chest with similar runes and he chanted, barely feeling the pain of each slice of the blade. Blood streamed down his chest as the ancient tongue spilled from his lips. The magic swirled darkly, a tornado of energy that joined in Sam's fight for the tug of war for Dean's soul.

Sam finished the last syllable of the spell and put every last dram of his power into it. The chains quivered and stretched and Dean's screams heightened.

Mine! Sam demanded and yanked hard. The chains snapped suddenly and those still attached to Dean withered to dust. His own powers dove into Dean, wove their hooks deep into his soul, wrapped and connected chains tightly seemingly everywhere.

A slow smile spread across Sam's face. He owned his brother's soul now. Dean was his. All his. That was all his mind could think as he slowly crumpled to the mattress, blood pouring from his nose and ears and even his golden-sheened eyes.

Even after all the pain that Dean had endured through his life, nothing had prepared him for this. Even the agony caused by the demon poison that the hunters had created seemed pale by comparison. It was the kind of pain that could drive someone insane. It was the kind that could kill a man even before the wounds themselves did the job. The kind that made him wish his heart would simply explode or stop all together just so the agony could end.

Thinking was beyond him at that point. Understanding what was happening, what was going on around him, impossible. He just wanted the pain to end. He didn’t care how. Please…

If he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, he was wrong. Suddenly he was being torn in two different directions. Torn in ways he thought only damned souls in hell could have possibly understood. His own screams deafened him. His own body the enemy as it seized, convulsing so hard his own muscles threatened to shatter his bones underneath.

Then he was pinned. Held completely immobile and that was worse. With no other outlet for his pain he could only scream louder, his throat already raw and bloody, he practically choked on them. Of course he felt the knife drawing the wounds into his chest, but they were inconsequential. Like pricking your finger or receiving a paper cut. Though it didn’t only feel like his body was being carved. He felt it deeper. He felt every carve deep into his soul. Already wounded and bloody and torn to shreds Dean could only whimper pathetically as he silently begged for the torture to end.

He didn’t know what, if anything, would be left of him after this. He honestly didn’t care. The final pull in both directions on his soul was so agonizing it was probably a good thing he could not move because he probably would have broken every bone in his body otherwise. When the chains on one side finally broke free, he honestly did not care who had won. He felt the new chains winding around and through him, closing in the ripped bloody holes left behind and Dean could only curl himself into a trembling ball and weep.

When unconsciousness finally slid over him like a warm comforting blanket he didn’t even try to fight it.