Two weeks…

It had been two weeks since he had last seen his brother. Two weeks since Sam had made the deal with Azazel. Two weeks since he had been dragged, almost literally, kicking and screaming to a "room" and left there. He only knew it was two weeks because once a day a demon would bring him some scraps of food and water and take away his waste bucket.

Other than that, no one came to his room. A cell was more like it. It was barely long enough for him to lay down flat in. The blanket he had to lay on barely enough to cut the chill of the cold concrete against his naked skin. Not that he really cared about such things. He'd endured far worse during his life.

Powerful runes carved onto the concrete prevented him from using his powers, prevented him from sensing anything outside the four walls of his prison. He couldn't even sense Sam, and that was even more painful than when the torturers of hell had been working him over. Not knowing what was being done to his brother, but at the same time, knowing all too well what Azazel was doing. What Azazel was turning the younger man into…

Sometimes he spent hours screaming and banging on the cold steel door of his cage until he exhausted himself. Screaming Sam's name until his voice was too hoarse to utter a sound. Beating on the door until his hands were a bloody mess, perhaps a part of him hoping that Sam would hear him, that his brother would find the strength to hold on.

How long? How long would it take until Sam was no longer Sam? No longer the kind innocent dream boy who had comforted him his whole life? No longer his beautiful caring master who loved him? No longer his, only Azazel's?

Dean couldn't help but wonder if he died, if Sam's deal would be broken. If Dean killed himself, then Azazel couldn't uphold his end of the bargain, and Sam would be free. He didn't know. Perhaps that was the only reason he hadn't bitten off his own tongue to bleed to death already. What if he died and went to hell and Sam only made a worse deal with the demon to try to get him back?

Sam…

"I'm sorry…" Dean whispered hoarsely into the silence of the empty room for what had to be the thousandth time. Silent tears falling down his cheeks that he would never cry for himself.

It was all blur in the beginning. He had no idea how much time passed. Once the deal had been made he was tortured for what felt like days, Azazel tending to most of it himself. He learned quickly to quell his begging for them to stop, for water, for food, for anything. He also learned to curb his smart mouth. He could only vaguely feel Dean. He knew Dean was alive and that was about it. He assumed if Azazel broke the deal, if anyone touched Dean, the chains binding him to Azazel would shatter. But that was only a supposition. When he asked after his brother all Azazel would say was that Dean was safely untouched, and received food and water and had a blanket.

The demon may not have wanted a whore, but that didn't stop him from pleasuring himself with Sam though no one else was permitted to touch him in that way. When one demon had tried, Azazel hadn't even bothered to torture it. He simply ripped it into shreds. No one else ever dared again.

Azazel often cradled Sam during the lulls of torture, giving him water and food. He demanded Sam heal himself, and though Sam tried, he had little success, which only brought on more punishment. Azazel kept him cuffed, a reminder he told Sam, that Sam was his. Sam was forced to torture a man, to whip him, to burn him, to cut into him. Finally to kill him. When Azazel demanded he do the same to a young boy that reminded Sam far too much of his brother in his youth, Sam balked. So instead he was forced to watch as terrible things were done to the boy and when Sam cried, Sam found himself back in the torture room, with some of the most severe torture yet.

Azazel worked with him teaching him how to use his abilities. Sam still tended to be the battering ram and his carelessness only brought more pain. Finally something inside him shifted just a little and he seemed to gain a better insight into using his powers. He managed to heal himself. A demon who had crossed Azazel was brought before Sam. He was told only to use his powers to torture and kill the demon. He didn't begin to know how to do that, but the lash across his back convinced him to try. As he opened up to let his powers out he did something he hadn't done before. He let the darkness in it fill him, let it control him, and suddenly he could do what Azazel asked. All that torture and pain he had suffered seemed to let loose. The tentacles bit at the demon, sucked energy, sucked life, sucked power. God it was so intoxicating. When Sam had drained it, had ripped at its skin until nothing was left untouched, his power simply grabbed hold of the demon's soul and ripped it into tatters that flashed and smoked like embers blown from a campfire until they disappeared into scattered ash.

A part deeply buried in Sam smiled grimly. How to kill a demon. A very useful piece of information. He hoped Azazel let him do that more often. He wanted to get very very good at it.

Azazel was proud of him that day and he couldn't deny how Azazel's pride made him feel. Pleased. It shouldn't. It was wrong, but his own father had never given him praise as Azazel did those handful of hours ago. Azazel was so pleased, Sam was permitted to sleep in a warm if small cell. He was given fresh water and even a solid meal. He was admittedly confused afterward when he wasn't led back to the training room or the torture room. He was taken down a hall he didn't recall ever being down. His cuffs were removed and he was shoved inside. He readied himself for whatever Azazel had planned for him next, as prepared to fight as he was to go to his knees in submission.

When his eyes fell on his brother, his knees nearly did give out.

"Dean!" he yelled and swept Dean into his arms, crushing his lips to his brother's immediately and holding him as tightly as he could. He heard the door shut behind him and felt the way his power was locked in the room. But he could feel the chains of ownership and finally feel Dean strongly. He sent power down those chains, wrapping his brother in absolute love, letting their powers twine, making them one. He didn't think he had been so very happy in so long a time and he felt his tears fall even though a part of him chastised him for such a weakness.

Something was wrong. The door to his cell shouldn’t be opening. He’d already been fed once today. Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know why it was opening now. He could only think of one reason why it would be. That Sam had somehow defied Azazel and now the demon had come to punish Sam by punishing him. Maybe even killing him...

He hoped so. He really did. It meant that Azazel would no longer have leverage over the younger man. It meant that Sam could escape. But the presence he suddenly felt in the room was not his demon father’s. Dean almost did not dare to hope that this wasn’t some kind of dream or even hallucination.

But if it was, then that meant his ears were deceiving him as well, when he heard his name called. It meant his eyes were lying to him too when they snapped open and locked on the form of his brother. It also meant that his whole body was betraying him when he suddenly felt Sam’s arms around him, holding him so tight and kissing him so hard he could barely breathe, but Dean hardly cared.

Sam...

Dean’s arms came up and wrapped around the younger man so tightly he knew his hold had to be painful, but even feeling the solid weight of his brother in his arms he still almost couldn’t believe it. Sam. Sam was here. Sam was in his arms. He felt Sam’s love for him fill him, wrap around him like a cocoon of warmth and comfort. His own power reacting in kind.

Dean knew he was sobbing his brother’s name against his lips, as he kissed him over and over. His eyes burning with tears, and he didn’t care. He never thought he would see Sam again, much less hold him. Feel his love. He’d feared if he ever saw Sam again, all he would feel was darkness. The same kind of darkness that stained his own soul.

“Sam... Sammy...”

Sam felt Dean's power join his own and he couldn't help but pick through it, a part of him now understanding some of Dean's powers that he hadn't before. He saw the darkness that Dean considered irredeemable and denied it. Dean had already come so far up the path and away from darkness, though Sam realized it was really only where Sam was concerned. But if he could walk the better path for Sam, he could do it for others, given the chance. He saw his own soul reflected by Dean's and saw how a part of himself had darkened, but that darkening was one of the reasons they were together now. To hold Dean in his arms, to feel Dean's depth of love, it was worth it. Maybe that was horribly selfish, but it was worth it. Holding Dean, he could forget the torture, the new scars that he hadn't been able to wipe away because he just didn't have the strength when he had healed himself. He could forget that he had tortured and killed a man. He could forget that Azazel would demand more of the same from him. He could forget the way his demon 'father' used him.

He finally had to break their kiss just so he could breathe, but he clutched his brother to him. "I could feel you, I knew you were alive, but that was all. Now I see why."

He held Dean as tightly as Dean held him. The older man's sobs nearly broke his heart. "Shh, it's okay, brother. I'm here. I'm here. It'll be okay. We'll get out of this. We'll find a way out. Together. You and me. I'm yours, you're mine. Always."

Sam kissed away the tears on Dean's face, then kissed Dean's lips again, licking his way in to his brother's mouth. He tried to erase his own memories of Azazel's tongue in his mouth, of Azazel's rough hands roaming over him. Dean's touch was so tender and loving. He relaxed into his brother, wanting to remember nothing but Dean's arms wrapped around him.

Though Dean was still in a bit of shock over the fact that the younger man was truly here, in his arms, kissing them both breathless, it was not enough that he didn’t begin to notice what he hadn’t initially. That the skin beneath his hands now carried far many more scars than he remembered, much like his own ruined flesh. But that was not all that Sam now mirrored him. As his brother’s powers circled around him and through him Dean began to see, feel, the… stain… on the younger man’s soul.

The darkness, the taint, just a hint of it, buried deep, but still there. Azazel’s taint. More than just the demonic blood that flowed through both their veins. The same darkness he’d been afraid he would stain his brother with. That he would have rather killed himself than allow his brother to become infected by it through him. Now it was there. Slowly eating away at his brother like a parasite until there would be nothing left of the younger man.

The grief and rage that Dean felt was indescribable, and his brother’s soft words and gentle kisses did little to comfort him. No… Sam was his! Sam had always been his, and would always be his!

Dean could feel his brother’s pain. Sam was hurting deep inside, and Dean wanted nothing more than to banish that pain. To sooth all of the younger man’s hurts. To wipe away all the signs of his brother’s scars, both inside and out. To take away that darkness, even if he had to consume it into himself, and leave Sam pure and untouched by Azazel once more. He knew that was a hopeless wish, but it wouldn’t stop Dean from trying, all the same.

He parted his lips eagerly for his brother’s seeking tongue, caressing the soft slick muscle with his own and sucking gently as his hands caressed his brother everywhere Dean could reach. Sliding up over his back and shoulders, and then down his thighs and buttocks. His fingers caressing and twining into the younger mans soft hair. Arching and rubbing himself against the younger man even as he clutched Sam impossibly closer. Absolutely nothing between them as he gently guided the younger man down to his poor excuse of a blanket, but it was all he had to offer.

Poor excuse. Just like him. All of Sam’s suffering was because of him. Because he had failed to protect his brother like he had promised. He had failed…

“I’m sorry…” Dean whispered brokenly, even as his fingers delved gently between Sam’s ass cheeks to caress tenderly over his hole. Dean didn’t need to ask to know that he was no longer the only person to have felt Sam’s warmth anymore and the murderous rage he felt was tempered only by the crushing sorrow he felt at that knowledge.

The way Dean sucked on his tongue, Azazel didn't do that, and Sam decided it was something purely Dean. And he loved it. Dean's hands running over him was like clean fresh water, every where he touched it seemed to wash away any memory of pain or his demon father's hands. He gladly let Dean lay him down onto the floor and equally glad they had given Dean a blanket. It was thin and ragged, but Sam hadn't had any until last night.

His brother's fury and grief was all but tangible. Dean's thoughts didn't come through as words but rather as feelings but still he knew all that was in his brother's mind.

Sam ran his hand along Dean's cheek. "Sorry for what? God, Dean, don't blame yourself for this. I would rather it on my terms, though I bargained pretty poorly in the details. How long do you really think I would have held out against the torture? How long before I would have given him whatever he wanted, even my soul? How long before every demon that wanted to have me, he would have let have me? It's only been him and frankly, I'd rather it be just one than fifty, even if that one is him.

"If we're going to get free of him, I've got to be trained. Neither of us can do it alone. I've got to be trained…the way you were, even if it means I have to do horrible things. I've got to understand my powers. I've got to be able to use them. No one's coming to our rescue, Brother. It's just you and me. He would have destroyed you for betraying him, and even if you didn't mean everything to me, the hard cold facts are, I need you if I'm going to kill him." Sam laughed softly, but there was a hard edge to it. "He taught me how to kill a demon yesterday. He's going to regret teaching me that. Someday, he'll regret it."

His face softened and he smiled lovingly at Dean. "He would have found a way to make me do the things that I'm doing. You know he would have. I'm just not fighting him about it. It'll get me trained that much faster. He said when I impress him, I get to see you. Eventually, I'll be able to ask for you. Eventually, I'll be given quarters instead of a cell. He won't exactly be proving himself a great master if he has to keep his first lieutenant under lock and key. So long as I have you, I'm not going to go completely darkside. Just like you aren't completely darkside anymore because of me.

Hesitating a moment, Sam said, "I want you to start praying for me. Sometimes I'm forgetting to ask God for forgiveness for the things I'm doing. But you can ask for me, for when I forget. And ask Him for help and strength for the both of us." Sam laughed softly again, but this time the edge was gone. "If there's a Hell, if there are demons, God and his angels have to be up there somewhere. Who knows. Maybe they'll help."

He kissed Dean deeply, arching up against him, feeling his cock slowly beginning to fill. "Make love to me, Dean," he whispered. "Not sex. Love. Devour me. Wrap me in everything you are. I don't know how long he'll let me stay, but let's not waste any more of it being angry at him, or regretting what's happened, or dwelling on things that simply can't be changed. No matter what happens, as surely as I own your soul, you own mine."

Not blame himself? Dean stared at the younger man in disbelief. How could he not blame himself?

He had failed Sam at every turn. He had failed to keep Sam hidden. He had failed to protect his brother, to keep him safe from Azazel. He had failed to train Sam enough to kill the demon. He had even failed to kill Sam to keep him out of the demon's hands. Sam should hate him. Sam should want to punish him for his failure. Sam should want to give him every pain that Azazel had forced on his brother and more…

Instead Sam was trying to "reason" with him, to look on the "bright" side, trying to tell him that it was better he gave into the training than being broken through the torture Azazel would have put him through otherwise. Trying to tell him that it was better that he only had to endure Azazel's touch rather than any other demon that wanted him. Trying to tell him the deal he'd made to keep Dean safe, letting Azazel twist his brother's soul, was better than letting their father torture and kill him…

Dean couldn't have stopped the hopeless, rage fueled, tears that poured down his cheeks if he tried as he clung to Sam as though the younger man would be ripped from him before his eyes. It didn't help that he knew that was going to happen. Probably soon.

Dean couldn't stop the harsh laughter that escaped his throat when Sam asked him to pray for him. Like "god" would ever listen to the prayers of something like him. Dean had never in his life prayed for himself. But if it was what Sam wanted…

"I'll do whatever you ask." Dean whispered against his brother's lips as his hands began moving over the younger man's skin again. He wanted nothing more than to spend hours making love to Sam, to make his brother forget everything that had been done to him, but he knew they didn't have hours. If he knew his "father" they probably didn't even have minutes before Azazel would come and rip Sam away again.

"Love you…" He breathed as he gently rolled his brother onto his back, covering the younger man's body with his own as though he could shield Sam from everything. He kissed Sam again, long and deep, exploring his brother's mouth like it was the first time he'd ever tasted Sam. Savoring everything, his taste, the soft moans he swallowed greedily. His hand slipping between them to curl around Sam's cock, he stroked his brother tenderly, almost soothing rather than arousing. At the same time, he let his power cocoon around the younger man, sliding over Sam's skin like soft rippling waves. Forcing himself to forget about his rage, the pain, and focus only on his love for his brother. Wanting that to be the only thing Sam felt. So he would remember…

Sam didn't know what else he could do or say to make Dean understand. Azazel raping him was bad. Being used by any number of demons? No, he much preferred just his 'father.' He much preferred feeling like he had some measure of control rather than being shredded and half destroyed before he finally gave in anyway. No matter how highly Dean thought of him, Sam knew he would have eventually broken under Azazel's skilled torture. Yeah, he probably could have lasted a while. But knowing that even worse was being done to the person he loved so very much, God forgive him, he just couldn't endure that. For love, for Dean…and maybe that was an unfair burden to lay on the older man, but he would have made the same choice if it had been Jessica. Only he would have sold his soul for her. Because he owned Dean's, he would not, could not, make that compromise. He would not let Azazel have his brother's soul again.

Dean's laugh at his request shouldn't have surprised him, but when Dean said he would pray for them, it made him happy. Almost as happy as he had been to see his brother in the first place.

"Love you, too," Sam whispered back before Dean kissed him so deeply as to steal his breath away. It was as if it was their first kiss, but a kiss of pure love and passion. He ran his own hands over Dean's body, memorizing every scar, every inch of skin he could reach. He groaned in pleasure as Dean's tongue investigated his mouth, as Dean's hands touched him everywhere. Dean's hand on his cock was so gentle, fondling and loving, Sam couldn't help but groan deeper.

The power that wrapped around him was protective and caressing. He felt so very loved and treasured under Dean's care. He sent his own tendrils of power threading through Dean's, until they were both awash in each other's love. He let his roaming hands knead Dean's buttocks until one slid between Dean's cheeks, rubbing gently at the hole.

When Dean let him come up for air Sam panted, "Fuck me Dean. Reclaim what's yours."

Dean managed a small smile even as he panted against his brother’s lips, feeling Sam’s power wrap around him, and caress him like he caressed Sam. Both of their powers winding around each other so tightly he couldn’t really tell where his ended and Sam’s began. His brother’s request leaving him nearly breathless as he nodded slightly, licking softly at Sam’s lips one last time before he began to kiss his way slowly down his brother’s jaw and neck.

He continued to stroke the younger man’s cock slowly as he licked his way down Sam’s chest. Toying with his nipples as his thumb circled around the younger man’s crown, rubbing over the slit. Sucking and nipping on one tight peak and then the other before forcing himself to continue down.

Dean couldn’t resist flicking his tongue over the tip of the younger man’s shaft. Sucking and tasting the head, loving how thick his brother was growing in his hand, loving how the bit of moisture began to bead at his slit before he licked it away greedily. God, how he wished he could spend hours making love to Sam, but all he could really do was make it feel like hours.

He licked up and down his brother’s shaft as he gently grasped Sam’s thighs and pushed the younger man’s legs up towards his chest. He didn’t have any kind of other lubricant and he wasn’t going to hurt Sam in any way, he refused to cause him even the slightest pain. So Dean slowly licked down Sam’s cock and over his balls, working his way closer and closer to his hole.

Spreading his brother’s cheeks gently he licked along the younger man’s crack before centering on the delicious opening. Swirling his tongue slowly around the tight rim of muscles, feeling them flutter and relax under his caress. Loosening for him even before he began to push his tongue inside, thrusting in and out, fucking his brother open with just his tongue. Swirling and wetting his brother before he stopped long enough to suck on one of his fingers, then easing that finger along with his tongue back into his brother’s hole with a moan.

He wanted Dean inside him, wanted to be filled up with the memory of something other than the demon. Azazel pleasured himself with Sam often, in one fashion or another. Sometimes having Sam suck him off, sometimes getting Sam aroused to the point of pain and then just leaving him, sometimes fucking him without any warning or preparation, just shoving in and pumping until he came, sometimes stroking Sam's cock at the same time, but as soon as he was done, it didn't matter if Sam had come or not. And the chains were too short for Sam to be able to finish himself off.

To have Dean kiss him, then begin to work his way down, toying with his nipples while playing with his hardening cock, doing it for Sam's pleasure, it made Dean so much more special to him. He understood a little better why him making love to Dean meant so much to his brother. To have someone who genuinely cared making love to you. He had never realized how special something like that could be. Until now. And it only made him love Dean more.

Dean was already pulling louder groans from him and when his brother reached his cock, first thumbing his crown and then when his tongue and mouth began working on it, Sam moaned in delight. This was what it was supposed to be like.

He eagerly accepted the way Dean gently spread his thighs and licked his shaft and teased his balls. His hole was already puckering in anticipation when Dean's tongue reached it. He relaxed immediately, knowing his brother would never hurt him, knowing what it would feel like and he wasn't at all disappointed as his brother began to tongue him. He whimper when Dean paused but sighed in pleasured as the hot wet muscle dove deeply inside him again, a finger alongside. He wriggled in pleasure and strove to relax more. He wanted this as good for Dean as he hoped it would be for himself. If Dean wanted to plunge in deeply, well, he was beginning to get use to that, to that pain and burn, and if it made Dean happy, that pain was trivial compared to the things Azazel had been doing to him.

"If we hear them coming," Sam panted, praying that the demon would at least give him a few hours with Dean but he wouldn't be shocked if it was only a few minutes, "I still want you inside me. Don't wait," Sam gasped as Dean worked him.

"So damned good, Dean," Sam murmured, rocking against his brother. "So good."

Dean gave a small nod at his brother’s request, before continuing to gently push his finger in and out of the younger man’s tight hole. Curling and brushing against Sam’s prostate with every stroke while his tongue continued to alternate between lapping around the sensitive rim and plunging as deep into his brother’s body as he could.

He wouldn’t wait. He would give Sam what he wanted. He would fill his brother, he would make love to Sam, and he would not stop loving him for anything. He wasn’t going to let Sam go. Not even if Azazel returned in the next few minutes, trying to rip Sam away from him again.

The demon could try. Dean would fight with his last breath if he had to. He didn’t care if it was futile in the end. Even if Azazel killed him for it, he would not simply stand aside again and allow the demon to have his brother. Sam was his!

Knowing Sam was ready and eager for more Dean withdrew his finger and then paused in his licking long enough to wet two of his fingers. Pushing both gently back into his brother and moaning softly as he watched Sam’s body stretch to take them, watching them slide wetly in and out of his brother’s tight hole. He looked up the length of the younger man’s body to watch his face as he scissored gently and brushed teasingly over his pleasure spot again and again. So beautiful… he could do this forever…

Dean eagerly returned to licking around Sam’s hole, teasing around his fingers and letting his tongue work its way in beside them, cherishing every pleasured moan that he wrung from his brother. When he felt that Sam was relaxed and wet enough he pulled away almost reluctantly, letting his fingers slip out of the younger man’s hot body knowing that Sam wanted more than just his fingers.

He spit into his hand and slicked his cock as best he could. Kneeling between Sam’s spread legs he gently encouraged his brother to wrap them around his waist as he positioned himself, pressing the thick head of his shaft at the younger man’s opening as he leaned over Sam to kiss him. Kissing him slowly and deeply as though he had all the time in the world.

“Love you…” Dean whispered again as he slowly began to ease his cock into the younger man’s body.

He knew Dean would do what he asked, and Sam would pay for it if Azazel did come and Sam did not immediately respond to his order. But he already held part of his power ready, stitching tendrils through the doorframe. It was hard, the runes trying to hold back any use of power near them but he wasn't trying to get through the door. He just wanted to bar it, to hold it long enough that they could finish, if Azazel decided to interrupt. He knew, if it took everything he had, he would bar that fucking door. He and Dean would have this. More if given time but every second with his brother was precious paradise.

Each brush of Dean's finger along his sweet spot was heaven and he moaned and through their intertwined power, let Dean feel the pleasure he was giving him. The loss of Dean's attention brought a tiny protest, but he knew Dean would be back with more and almost immediately he felt Dean's two fingers enter and begin to open him up, readying him for Dean's cock. He was quickly learning to relax those muscles to ease the burn when Azazel took him. It had only been a few weeks perhaps? Certainly not a month, so he was definitely on the harsh side of the learning curve, but he always had been a fast learner.

The moans Dean was pulling from him was practically sinful and his hands ran along the floor of the cell, fingers over stone and grit. When Dean's tongue returned, he couldn't help but buck and pant his brother's name. When Dean finally pulled out, it gave Sam a moment to catch his breath and he looked down at Dean, watching as Dean slicked his own cock, eyeing Dean's thick member with desire. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean and relaxed, feeling the head of Dean's cock slowly slide its way in. He didn't realize he had been expecting Dean to simply ram in until Dean didn't.

Sam swallowed Dean's words of love, moaning into his brother's mouth as Dean kissed him so gently and lovingly. Wrapping his arms around his brother he lifted his hips and tightened his legs, slowly sliding himself onto Dean's shaft, feeling the burn and the pressure but not giving a damned. It was his brother's cock inside him, his lover's, the one person who meant more to him than anything, even himself. He moaned deeper, matching his brother's sounds of pleasure as he began to slide up and down on his brother's cock, feeling his brother shift his angle so that Sam's prostate was hit every time.

Dean could feel his brother’s power attempting to bar the door and he would have been proud with the progress Sam was learning his powers if he didn’t know what the younger man was going through being “taught”. It made him want to weep, but he refused to shed tears again while his brother watched. He did not want the younger man worrying over him.

So instead he smiled into the kiss they shared, his tongue playing gently in his brother’s mouth as he moaned at the feeling of Sam pushing against him. Taking his cock eagerly into his body and Dean filled him to the hilt. Their lips met again and again, their tongues tangling, as their bodies moved together perfectly. The pleasure of their bodies joining almost nothing compared to how their powers, their very souls, twined together, every caress shared. Pleasure shared. Love shared.

At first Dean tried to keep their coupling slow and controlled but as the passion built between him he couldn’t help speeding his thrusts. He panted against his brother’s mouth, moaning with every movement either of them made, clutching Sam close, his fingers digging bruises of passion into the younger man’s skin. He only wanted Sam to ever bear his marks, Sam was his, body, soul, no one else’s. He wanted Sam to remember…

“I will not let him take you… I will not…” Dean moaned as he clutched his brother even tighter to him of it was possible. As though he could take the younger man into his very skin in order to keep him safe.

He felt Dean fill him completely and he wanted it to always be him, always be his brother though he knew that couldn't be. The way their powers merged was electrical, was unbelievable in how it felt. One soul. Two bodies. The ultimate union. Every kiss, every thrust, each more perfect than the last. As their passion escalated, so did the speed of their combined thrusts against one another. Sam wanted to hold Dean to him forever and he etched this in his memory. This perfect moment drawn out. He felt Dean's bruising fingers and knew his own fingers were leaving their own marks on his brother. He cherished the knowledge that no one could touch Dean, that no one but he would have Dean this way. Not that anyone could, not with the way their powers and souls shared everything.

"If you love me, you have to," Sam answered through his panting. "I will not lose you!" Sam said as he pumped faster and harder. "Love you so much," Sam moaned. He felt his own balls tighten and knew Dean's were as well. "Love you!" he practically screamed as he came hard, feeling Dean fill him at the same time.

"Sam…" Dean's voice was choked with both pleasure and despair at the younger man's words. His order. To let him go… if he loved Sam… Surely his brother had to understand it was because he loved Sam so much he couldn't simply let him go. Couldn't just let Azazel take his brother away from him, no matter what it might cost Dean. He couldn't lose Sam any more than Sam could lose him and that was exactly what was going to happen. The longer that Azazel had Sam, the less of his brother would remain, until there was nothing…

Feeling Sam's body tighten around him, hearing the younger man's near scream of pleasure, not to mention feeling the echo of it through their joined powers, quickly pushed Dean over the edge as well. His cry of passion joining the younger man's as his cock pulsed and he spilled his seed inside of his brother's body. Clutching Sam to him as he gasped and shuddered, but he didn't stop moving. Didn't stop thrusting gently into his brother. Didn't stop touching him, caressing him, kissing every inch of skin he could reach.

"I can't… I can't lose you either… I can't…" Dean barely managed in a choked sob against the younger man's throat, even though he still refused to let any tears fall from his eyes.

Sam rode out their orgasm, milking from Dean everything he could and cherishing every touch, every caress his brother gave him. He pet Dean's hair lovingly at Dean's words. He sighed softly.

"Dean, I made a deal. Even if you were to stand in the way, it wouldn't change anything. I must serve him. I must accept his training. The chains are there, they're made. If I cross him, if I try to break the deal…I can't. I won't." He twisted his powers golden and they spider-webbed through their shared powers and rolled down the chains that led to Dean's soul. He showed Dean how the powers could be shifted to heal, what the innocence felt like, the innocence that part of him still had. He forced it over the darkness Azazel had put in Dean. He wouldn't eradicate that stain. He didn't want to. The ugly truth was, that 'stain' was how the powers were accessed and used. Even so, he showered his feelings of love on Dean.

"To fight Azazel we both have to be this way. You have to keep that darkness. I have to accept the darkness and take it into me. I know you don't want me to. I know you think I'll forget who I am. Maybe I will. So you have to remember this in case I forget. You have to bring me back, if I go too far." He kissed Dean deeply. "What we have, when we're together like this, we can be this way when I get stronger, when I can use my powers better. When we're one when we're both strong enough, we can beat him. Have faith in me brother. Like I've always had in you. Don't cry for me. Don't blame yourself. You saved me. I know you don't think you did, but you did." He showed Dean his feelings of loss over Jessica and his friends, how lost he felt until he found love in Dean's arms, how he raged and was ready to go full darkside and walk into Azazel's waiting arms at the church when Dean brought him back, talked him down. "Okay, so maybe we didn't get in the training we should have, but even with months of it, I still would have had to accept the darkness to have a prayer of beating Azazel. You know that's the truth whether you want to believe it or not. I'm counting on you Dean. I'm counting on you saving me again. Remember me pure. Show it to me when this is over. Remind me. Force it down my throat. Whatever it takes. But for now, pray for me, and accept that I have made the deal. Please, until we're strong enough, accept this and remember." He clutched Dean to him tightly, and felt a few tears trickle from his eyes. "I love you. I love you more than anything."

It seemed that with every word that his brother spoke that he broke just a little more, and Dean almost wasn’t sure that was possible given he already felt shattered and ground to dust. The thought of Sam surrendering to Azazel, serving him, becoming what the demon wanted Sam to be… because of him… because Sam wanted to keep him safe. Him… lowly… worthless…

Perhaps it was worse because Sam didn’t understand that this would not save them in the end. Sam thought he understood how he would ‘change’ under Azazel’s ‘teachings’ but he didn’t. He had no idea… and how could Dean possibly explain, because Dean did not even completely understand Sam. What was inside of Sam, the light, the innocence, he didn’t understand it. It was what made Sam who he was, what he was, it was what had always made him so precious to Dean. Sam did not understand what he would be once that was gone. Just as Sam could not completely understand him…. Not yet…

Sam would never be able to get it back once it was gone. Never. All that would be left was a memory, Dean’s memory, and nothing more.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t let that happen, no matter how much Sam wished it. No matter how hard it was to disobey Sam, harder than it was to turn away from his Demon father for his brother. Making the only choice he’d ever truly made for himself, choosing Sam as his master. He would not let Sam become like him what Azazel wanted. Dean would kill them both first…

Even though Sam clung to him, though it felt like he was ripping his own heart out, Dean pushed himself away from Sam. He looked down at Sam, knowing his expression must have been as devastated as his brother looked now, but he would not allow himself to do what he wanted and simply fall back into his brother’s arms. To sooth him, to promise Sam anything he wanted to make this ‘easier’ because he would not help Azazel. He had failed his brother, but he would not be the chain that bound Sam to the demon.

“If I asked you, if I begged you, would you simply hand me over to Azazel without a fight? If you can honestly tell me ‘yes’ then I’ll do as you ask.”

Sam was a bit startled when Dean pushed away from him. God, the look on his face, it was as if Dean were watching Sam die…and maybe that's what his brother feared. Hell, the thought of becoming what Azazel wanted him to be scared the hell out of him, too and was a death after a fashion.

Dean's words hit him like a fist to the gut. Could he…? No! He'd ripped Dean's soul away from Azazel and swore Azazel would never touch his brother again, never keep him. He never wanted Azazel to hurt Dean ever again. Remembering Azazel's threat, his promise, if he ever crossed Azazel….

Sam's jaw tightened and he knew his eyes grew hard. His words came slowly but even so he knew they were true. "If you told me that if I let Azazel have you again for one month, and at the end of that month you thought you would be strong enough that the two of us could try and maybe succeed in taking him down…" Sam's voice cracked and he choked on his words, "…then yes, I would. Otherwise, there's just no hope. There's no point at all.

"I won't be his slave for the rest of my life. I won't be the leader of a demon army that attacks the innocents of the world. If we try and fail, then…" Sam gave a small shake of his head. He met Dean's eyes, seeing how close his brother was to crying. "Give me a month. I don't know if it'll be enough, but in a month whether I'm ready or not, we'll try. If…if we fail, then…then we need to try to get free…by…any means. Azazel swore if I went against him, he would torture you until I begged him to kill you. If that threat had been made against me, would you be willing to go against him before you thought there was a chance of beating him? Would you be willing to watch him torture me for months or even years?

"This sucks, okay? We're both fucked over. I don't want him having you any more than you want him having me. This is the way the cards fell. You would have made a deal to save me if you thought he'd take it. You were going to kill me to try to save me from this." Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed. "Give me a month. Stand aside when they come. I swear to you, I would do this if you asked me, but only with the same promise I give you now. In a month, we fight. We either win or we die."

His question had been a double edged sword. There hadn’t been a “right” answer that Sam could give him that would have satisfied Dean, but the answer his brother did give him was probably the worst he could have given. It was a testament to just how his Sam already was already gone after only two weeks.

Dean closed his eyes to keep himself from breaking down and weeping.

A month… Sam wanted him to let Azazel torture him for another month. Sam wanted him to let Azazel rape his brother for another month. Sam wanted him to let Azazel make his brother torture, kill, and blacken his soul until nothing of him remained. Until Sam enjoyed it too much to want to give it up. Until Sam wouldn’t want to be free of his demon father.

The only reason why Dean had defied Azazel was because of Sam… but without his brother… Yes, he had tried to kill Sam to save him from this, but Azazel had stopped him. But there was nothing to stop him now.

When Dean opened his eyes again they were completely devoid of emotion. If Sam wanted to know what he would become in a month, if he wanted to know what he would be capable of once Azazel was through with him…

Their powers were still twined together, joined, loving, absolutely trusting, and it was no difficulty at all for Dean to turn his power against Sam without warning. No longer warm and caressing, his power turned cold, a violent black and red seething mass as he drew on all of his hatred for the demon who was doing this to his brother and forced it on the one he loved. Sam wasn’t strong enough, not yet, to fight him off… He would rather Sam die at his hand than to become what his father wanted.

Sam watched as his brother closed his eyes. He knew what he was asking Dean to do was hard, but what choice did they have? The only chance they had to escape and be free of Azazel, truly free, was to kill him. Sam just wasn't well trained enough. Dean had to know that too. Surely Dean had to see the sense to this. He really wasn't sure a month was going to be enough and he was going to have to push hard to try to be ready in a month. Not that he really had a good measure of time but he guessed it had to be two or three weeks since Azazel had caught them.

Dean simply had to agree to this. It was the only practical plan. He was dreading what he would be forced to do between now and then, and wondered if God could forgive him these things. He wondered if he could ever forgive himself for the things he knew he would do to protect Dean and learn to use his abilities. The more he opened up to the darkness, the more he feared he would lose himself to it. With his brother to hold on to though, he knew he could get through this, he could find a way back to himself. He loved Dean too much not to.

When Dean opened his eyes and looked at him, his heart stopped in his chest. He didn't see love. He didn't see resignation or sadness. Not even hate. Nothing. There was nothing of any sort resembling emotion in those eyes. No! His brother had to understand, this was the only way!

He was not even remotely prepared to feel the love and trust between then turn to ash, to feel the black hatred that wrapped around him, to have the golden spiderweb of gold shredded to nothingness. The sheer hate plowed into him, invaded him, squeezed him. It was killing him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he could barely think. His brother hated him that much for this choice? All he felt was the swelling darkness as Dean began to …kill…him.

It didn't require thought. It was instinct. It was survival. His powers reacted, feeding on Dean's own powers, gobbling them up like a starving dog. The chains threading Dean's soul yanked and twisted, attempting to bend Dean to his will. To stop him. The powers destroyed the joining, the union, rebuked that which was Dean.

Every rune carved into the walls lit with fire before they exploded, small shards of rock raining outward from the walls. The door crumbled and the demons that stood outside were sucked dry of their life by Sam as Sam's powers fought against his brother's. The sheer agony of knowing, of feeling, just how much his brother hated him now…there was simply no reason left to fight. No reason left to hold on to the light. His heart all but shattered knowing the depth of Dean's hate for him and he would have crumbled it not for his instinct to survive.

He had one goal now. Kill Azazel. Azazel had killed his mother, ruined his life, destroyed his brother, and now, destroyed their love. He fell into the darkness willingly. He embraced it and let it take him. One goal. Sam turned his now black eyes on Dean and threw him into a wall and held him there.

"I'm sorry," Sammy whispered, tears streaming to his face. "I…I still love you. I'll still save your soul from Azazel. Even though you hate me. Find happiness, brother. Dad will help you."

Just as he had banished the hellhounds without really knowing how, he banished Dean, but banished him to the human world. Out of what love he still felt for Dean, he gave Dean the only bit of hope he could offer. He sent Dean to his father but not before he reforged the chains that Azazel had put on Dean's soul. Dean wouldn't be powerless and unprotected, but he wouldn't have the powers he would have had staying at Sam's side.

He stared a moment at where his brother, his everything, had been. The brother who hated him with every fiber of his body now. He didn't understand how Dean's love had suddenly twisted to such loathing. But he accepted it. His eyes returned to normal and he walked out of the cell, daring any demon to get in his way as he sought out his demon father for his next lesson. Without Dean, he didn't know if he would ever be strong enough to beat Azazel now. But he would try. He would hang on to that singular goal. It really didn't matter what happened to him now. He had nothing left to live for.

He'd been wrong. It seemed like he had been wrong about everything. Nothing but one mistake after another. One failure after another. He'd failed, betrayed, his demon father because he loved Sam. He'd failed his brother, his master, because of the same reason. He should have killed the younger man back in the church. The first time Sam had foolishly gotten within his reach. He should have snapped his neck with his own chains before he'd ever let himself make love to Sam. Before Dean had damned them both…

Dean had been expecting the younger man to fight him, if only out of instinct. There were very few who would not fight, or at least beg, for their life when faced with death. That was one thing Dean had learned well over the years of killing he'd done. He honestly wasn't sure if he could have done… what had to be done… if his brother did start begging for his life. But Sam didn't beg, he fought, and Dean had been wrong. Sam had more than enough strength to fight him. His brother had more than enough power to kill him.

The feeling of Sam sucking at his powers like a ravenous beast, feeding on them, taking his very life force, to fuel his own was so agonizing he couldn't even scream. Dean had no hope, none at all, to fight it. It was worse than when Azazel had tried to steal his soul from his body, because it was Sam doing the ripping now, and maybe Dean could have fought back, resisted… but he didn't.

He'd done this… tried to kill Sam… to save him. But it was obvious to him now that his brother did not want to be saved. It was obvious as he stared into the younger man's black eyes as Sam ripped him apart and tossed him against the wall like a rag doll that it was already too late. He didn't hear what Sam said to him after that, couldn't, through the pain both physical and in his heart. He couldn't even see Sam anymore through his darkening vision, he wasn't sure he wanted to see the sight of those black eyes again. He supposed it didn't matter, he wouldn't have to remember it for long. If Sam wanted to end his life… he wouldn't fight.

But Sam didn't kill him. His brother didn't even care enough to end his life with his own hands. He sent him away… to die alone…

It felt like every cell in his body suddenly exploded and then the pieces were haphazardly forced back together. The human body was not meant to travel the way some demons could, instantly from one place to the next. He might have screamed, he wasn't sure. It might have been Sam's name he called, or his father's, he didn't know.

It didn't kill him. He knew that much. But even as he blacked out Dean knew he would wish it had by the time he awoke again.

Bobby had headed straight to Jim's. When he passed on the news of the demonic attack underway at his place, John insisted he was well enough to leave the hospital. He was out of ICU at this point, thought still all but bedridden. Reluctantly, Jim agreed to take John to his place to finish his recovery. He insisted they could plan at his place and that John, no matter how tough and macho he wanted to be, just wasn't up to trying to go to the aid of his boys. Certainly not without them having a sensible plan of attack. How they were going to go up against a demon of the caliber of Azazel…the whole situation was just downright frightening.

John had contacted Missouri Mosley, and Missouri confirmed what they all feared when repeated calls to Sam's cell phone garnered no answer. The boys had been taken.

The men poured over books, batted around ideas of how to track down the boys and if they did find them, how the hell they were going to beat the demons. Some sort of mass exorcism was about the best they had at the moment, that and the demonic poison. But any of their ideas were useless if they couldn't find Sam and Dean, and Missouri, for all her talents, couldn't determine where they were. Nor could any of a half a dozen other psychics they contacted.

It had been almost three weeks since Bobby abandoned his home. Jim was up early, getting coffee made and tending to his morning rituals. He had a small plot of land, a farm really, though he only had a few chickens, a barn with some barn cats, and a small garden and a strawberry patch.

He was out feeding the chickens when a chill passed through him so strongly his knees grew weak. Even with his house being on holy ground, he knew something dark had passed by. Had the demons come after them? Perhaps come after John? He hurried back to the house.

The still form lying at the foot of the back steps made his breath catch. He rushed to the naked man's side and rolled him over.

"Dean," Jim hissed softly. Blood trickled from his nose, his ears, even his eyes. He scanned the surrounding area but saw no one and nothing. He propped open the door and with an effort, lifted the muscular young man and carried him inside, settling the young man in his own bed. "Don't worry, Son. We'll take care of you," he murmured softly, praying Dean wasn't sent to them as an enemy.

John Winchester sat in a chair beside the bed where the far too still form slept. He was barely able to resist the urge to count every shallow breath that… Dean… took.

Dean. His son.

John still couldn't quite believe that he was looking at the face of his four year old son that he had lost more than twenty years ago. That he had mourned for over twenty years. There was very little resemblance to that boy and this man. His hair was darker for one, and even in sleep the angles of his face seemed far too sharp to be his "little" boy. Try as he might, he couldn't see his Dean in this young man's face. Only the face of the man who had nearly tortured him to death mere weeks ago…

It had been two days since the young man had been found by Jim literally on his doorstep. Dean had not woken once during that time. The first day Jim had cared for Dean. John, despite his determination to rescue both his sons when he'd first learned they'd been taken three weeks ago, he simply hadn't been able to look at Dean for very long. Not without the memories of this man laughing as he made him scream coming back to haunt him.

So he and Bobby had done their best to prepare for a demon attack, should one come. Since they had no idea how Dean had gotten here, or why he was here and Sam wasn't.

He and Bobby hadn't exactly been on speaking terms after the blow up between them when the other man told him how he'd abandoned his boys to face the demons themselves. Never mind that Sam had practically forced Bobby to leave and that if he'd stayed the other man would probably be dead now. Never mind that he wasn't angry so much at Bobby as he was at himself, because he hadn't been there at all when Sam and Dean needed him…

John had wanted to leave that day, that hour, that minute. If he drove fast enough maybe he could have gotten there soon enough to help his boys, and Jim and Bobby had to practically restrain him to keep him from doing just that. Not that it was very difficult considering he could barely stand at all. He really shouldn't be sitting in this chair now, and probably wouldn't be able to for much longer, but he would try.

When Dean hadn't woken up the second day, fear for his son began to override the memories of the younger man torturing him. He had lost his four year old son when a demon had taken him and had not even searched for him. He had lost Sam by being more of a drill sergeant than a father, making his boy resent him, even hate him, leave him, and they hadn't even spoken in years till a few weeks ago. Through some miracle John was sure he didn't deserve he had gotten both of his boys back, though the circumstances were far less than ideal, that hardly mattered. He had gotten his sons back and he wasn't going to lose them again.

He was going to find Sam, he was going to save his son, god damn it. But he needed help… he needed to know where Sam was. He needed Dean to tell him… if the younger man would only wake up. John refused to consider the possibility that Dean wouldn't wake up.

The punishment was so severe Sam almost forgot that to beg them to stop would be worse. When Azazel grew weary of the torture he simply ordered someone else to take over. Sam had always considered agony to be an adequate term to define extreme pain. Not any more. There was no word that could define the pain he endured. Azazel had admonished him, had threatened him, had tended him. There was no doubt that there was some level of pride Azazel had in his accomplishment though. He had shattered ancient runes, he had banished the worthless brother, possibly even killed him, though Sam tried to deny that. He was trying to save Dean even though Dean's love had turned to a black hate like he had never felt. He knew Dean was still alive, he could still feel his soul. When Sam had returned to his demon father after banishing Dean, he had made one thing perfectly clear. The deal still held. No one was to touch Dean.

His father had been quick to point out how the inferior man had betrayed Sam yet again, had tried to kill him, how he obviously hated Sam. Sam held back his tears with effort, knowing they were a weakness Azazel did not tolerate. The fact Sam had released his worthless brother from the cell, that was almost unforgiveable. Sam readily accepted the fact he would need to be punished for that. He went to the torture room without a fight. If he had known what was in store for him, he might well have resisted.

In the lulls they gave him, when he had a chance to catch his breath, that was almost worse because there was no new pain to distract from the pain he already suffered. During these times he would reach out to Dean, just to confirm Dean was still alive. He could tell Dean was injured, terribly injured. He had done this to his brother. To the one he loved.

His father was gone for the time being though there were demons still in the room with him. He knew he would pay once again for what he was going to do, but he would willingly pay that price. Dean would not die because of his mistake, because he did not realize that transporting a human the way he had was near deadly. He tried to push past the pain. He harnessed it instead. He took the darkness and pulled it from its place of rest inside him and as he had done before, he attacked the demons in the room with him. He drained them of their lives. His love for Dean was the only reason he could still twist the power gold and he knew it. But he forced it gold all the same and sent it along the chains to attempt to heal his brother. He put everything left in him into it. Even if Dean hated him, he still wanted Dean to live. Maybe find something of the life that was stolen from him those many years ago. He prayed to God, begging it to be enough, begging God to let him be able to heal his brother. That prayer was still on his lips when he passed out.

John rubbed his hand over his face with a heavy sigh as he pushed himself wearily to his feet, using the very chair he’d been sitting in for support to be sure of his balance and that he would remain standing before slowly making his way to the door. It was late, nearly midnight, but he could smell the coffee someone had made coming from the kitchen. Sometimes it seemed like caffeine and willpower were the only two things that were keeping them all going at this point.

John opened the bedroom door, shutting it behind him, and carefully made his way around Bobby’s old dog laying in the middle of the hallway. The animal had taken up residence there soon after they’d found Dean and had barely left the spot since.

He honestly wasn’t sure what to think of the dog’s vigil outside his son’s room. How had Dean, the man who could do the things… his son had done to him… garner such loyalty in such a short period of time? It gave John some hope that maybe Sam’s faith in his brother wasn’t completely misplaced. At this point they could only hope that if… no when… Dean woke that he wouldn’t immediately try to kill them all.

When John arrived in the kitchen he wasn’t all that surprised to see both Jim and Bobby sitting at the table with a steaming mug. He gave them both a slight nod before going to retrieve his own mug and pour himself a cup.

He tried not to look too hopeful as he lowered himself slowly into a chair at the table as well. He knew Jim and Bobby had been taking turns using their contacts to try to find Sam and also come up with something they could use to take down the son of a bitch demon that had taken his boys and killed his wife.

***

He wasn’t so much floating in darkness as he was drowning in it. Like a great black sea of nothingness all around him. He sunk deeper and deeper until he could see and hear nothing else. There was not even the faintest bit of light, not even the smallest whisper of sound. He had no idea how long he was here, alone, in the dark. It felt like an eternity and a split second at the same time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave.

Because outside of the darkness, outside of the cold numb sea of black, there was nothing but pain waiting for him. He was tired… so damned tired… his whole life had been nothing but pain save for a few brief respites. He’d had enough. He had nothing left, no reason to go on. He just wanted to stay here, die here, maybe he would go to hell, but he could hope he could stay in this black nothing forever.

As usual, he had no choice in the matter. He’d never had a choice his whole life, so why should now be any different?

It was just a flicker of light. Barely more than a candle’s flame, but it might as well have been the sun because of how dark it had been for so long. It practically blinded him but he couldn’t close his eyes against it. It wrapped around him, warming his numbed flesh. It started to lift him up, pushing him towards the surface.

“Sam…” His brother’s name escaped Dean’s lips on the first real breath he took, his eyes slowly sliding open.

Jim gave John a weary smile. The man still belonged in a hospital and they all knew it, but John Winchester and stubborn ass might as well by synonymous. Both Jim and Bobby had called on anyone and everyone that might have even the smallest glimmers of hope of knowing anything. They had made some small degree of progress.

“Daniel Elkins,” Bobby said, “he’s got the Colt. The infamous Colt that can supposedly kill anything. He said it can. Reluctantly, extremely reluctantly, he’s agreed to let us use it, providing it’s returned to him when we’re done getting Sam back. He made me promise we'd only use it on Azazel himself. Apparently Samuel Colt only made a small number of bullets and there ain’t too many left."

After taking a sip of his black coffee, Bobby continued. “Heard from both Caleb and Jefferson. Both managed to track down demons. When either Sam Winchester or Azazel was brought up, the demons clammed up tight. Caleb said his demon implied Sam wasn’t being held in Hell proper but some sort of place in between, kinda like purgatory or something’.”

As wrong as it felt, Jim gave a long sigh and voiced the idea he had been hoping they didn’t have to turn to. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to do it. But they were about out of options and he feared Sam was running out of time, if it wasn’t too late already. They couldn’t be sure of anything until Dean woke up and could hopefully fill them in. If Dean woke up.

“I can do the spell to summon an angel of the Lord. I’ve enough demon blood in me I think to succeed. Though honestly, with Dean here, his blood would be much more powerful and we would be more likely to succeed. But,” Jim sighed again, dry scrubbing his face with his hand, “it is dangerous. It is demon magic we’re using. Both Dean and I have demon blood and the angel may not care what side of good or evil we fall on and might well smite us regardless. If the angel appears in its true form, while a demon might be able to tolerate it, I’m not sure we could and survive. I’m also not sure it would be willing to help us. I don’t have any idea where the saving of your son falls in the cosmic scale of things. If Dean doesn’t wake up in the next day, I think we better be thinking about trying it.”

Ceiling… walls… bed… sheets…

Items in the room slowly swam into focus. With it came the knowledge that he had no idea where he was. Perhaps it should have been disconcerting, but Dean couldn’t really bring himself to care.

He was alive. At the moment the young man honestly didn’t believe that was a good thing. His whole body felt like it had been crushed and ground down into dust. Breathing hurt. Even blinking seemed to hurt. But all the pain in his body was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his very soul. His memories felt like the only thing inside of him that wasn’t broken. He wished they were. He wished he didn’t remember. Unfortunately he remembered everything.

Sam…

Moving really should have been the last thing on his mind. Maybe he simply wanted the pain he knew would result. Somehow he managed to push himself up on shaking arms. The effort left him panting and sweating, but he didn’t stop moving. If he stopped moving then he’d simply fall back to the bed. He swung his legs over the side and grabbed the edge of a chair to force himself up on watery legs.

He didn’t bother to cover his nakedness as he made his way slowly towards the door. Each step as agonizing as the last. Dean wasn’t all that certain how he managed to make it to the door but he did. He used the door to support himself and opened it at the same time.

***

The colt… John had heard about that gun, of course, but he almost hadn’t believed it still existed, that it hadn’t been destroyed at some point. If they could get that gun it could certainly give them an advantage they wouldn’t have normally. Being able to kill a demon rather than relying on exorcising or devils traps? Of course, it was a little hard to believe that a simple bullet might be able to kill a demon like Azazel. Whatever Elkins said or not, John wasn’t willing to go barging in to wherever they were holding his son without at least testing the gun first.

Some kind of demon purgatory… that certainly didn’t make things any easier for them. At least it wasn’t hell. Opening a hell gate wasn’t something that John particularly wanted to do, not that he wouldn’t, to get his boy back. Still, getting into whatever borderline dimension that Azazel had taken Sam wasn’t going to be any easier. It could be one of thousands. When Dean woke up, maybe he could tell them more…

When Jim mentioned the spell about summoning an angel, John’s eyebrows rose a bit. While there was plenty of lore on angels, none of it was really substantial. While one might argue that because there were demons and a hell there had to be angels and a heaven too, it certainly wasn’t any kind of proof. Just like vampires and werewolves were nothing like their literature and movie counterparts, angels might be nothing like their biblical descriptions.

Hearing Jim suggest that they use his son’s blood for the summoning ritual did not sit well with John at all, especially if they didn’t even know if whatever they summoned might just go after Dean and even Jim. Knowing his sons had demon blood in them was shocking enough, but when Jim had filled in his own experiences with demon blood and magic, it had been even more unbelievable.

John did not want to resort to that. Not when the risks were so great. He didn’t want to sacrifice one of his sons for the other, he couldn’t, the very thought made him break out in a cold sweat, but they were running out of time. He could feel it. They had to find Sam soon. If Dean didn’t wake up they didn’t have very many choices left to find his boy…

“If… he doesn’t wake up…” John reluctantly agreed. If Jim just needed Dean’s blood to perform the ritual, not Dean himself, maybe he could use that and Dean wouldn’t even need to be nearby.

The dog’s sudden bark from down the hall shocked him and he stood up perhaps a little too quickly. But whatever discomfort or weakness John might have felt evaporated in an instant when he looked down the hall to see his son standing there, naked, looking like death warmed over, but he was awake. John was barely able to feel relief, because a second later the young man’s legs were giving out beneath him and he was falling.

“Dean!”

When Rumsfeld barked, Bobby was used to reacting instantly. He was on his feet and, at seeing the pale young man in the hallway begin to collapse, he was at Dean's side before John or Jim had barely begun to move. Rumsfeld was gently nuzzling Dean and whining worriedly.

Bobby scooped the young man up and carried him back in to the bed. "It's okay, Dean," he soothed. "Yer safe, boy. We're here for you. You've had me and Jim and your dad worried sick about you. Rumsfeld too." Bobby stuffed some pillows behind Dean to help prop him up. He could see the pain in the man's face.

"We've got some morphine if you want, or just some Vicadin if you'd rather?"

Rumsfeld had followed Bobby into the room and put his front paws up on the bed. He licked Dean's hand, barked once, then licked Dean's hand again with a soft whine. The old mechanic patted his dog's head. "See? Worried as hell. Practically haven't been able to get him to move from guarding your door."

Sounds at the doorway drew the hunter's attention and he saw Jim holding a glass of water. Bobby accepted the offered glass and held it up to Dean's lips giving Dean small sips.

As John made his way into the room, Jim moved aside but stood ready to help the father he needed it.

Dean wasn’t sure why he was so surprised to come face to face with the hunters, Sam’s... friends... Sam could have sent him anywhere on the planet, and Sam had sent him here? Why? To let the hunters kill him? To give them some kind of message? Was that what Sam had been telling him before...

He wasn’t all that surprised when his body began to give out beneath him. Dean was probably a bit more surprised that he had gotten this far under his own power. He shouldn’t have been able to. He probably shouldn’t even be alive now, much less conscious and more or less lucid. He didn’t know why he was.

Dean was a little surprised however that when his legs gave way that he did not end up in a heap on the floor. That one of the hunters... Bobby... had caught him, steadied him, and then carried him with far more gentleness than Dean knew he deserved back to the bed. He had absolutely no strength to resist the treatment.

Safe? Worried? Dean stared at the grizzled old hunter as though he were speaking a different language. Why should he be safe here? These men, more than any others, should want to see him hurt and punished, for what he had allowed to happen to Sam. Why should these men give a damned about him?

Dean’s eyes slid wearily away from Bobby down to the dog licking at his hand. It felt... strange... He honestly wasn’t even sure if his own hand belonged to him.

The young man managed a small shake of his head when Bobby offered him painkillers. Dean didn’t want any. Any pain he was in he deserved.

The cool glass pressed to his lips shocked him a moment, but he didn’t resist as the older man fed him water. His throat was so parched it felt like he had been swallowing sand. Somehow his hand found its way on top of the dog’s head, absently stroking the animal like Bobby had. Dean could hear the thumping of the dogs tail on the floor.

It was a little ironic that the injuries Dean had given John were what kept him from going to his son’s aid now, and yet, John’s anger at his inability to help his boy was only directed at himself. He stood back as Bobby helped the younger man back to the bedroom and Jim fetched some water. At least the injured young man seemed somewhat at ease around them. The last time Dean had seen him however...

So John Winchester stood back in the doorway of the room, even though the father in him wanted to be right there beside his son’s bed helping him, the hunter in him was cautious. More for Dean’s safety than his own. The younger an looked so damned frail...

Once Dean was done drinking John moved a little closer and Dean’s eyes slowly swung to him. There was no real emotion in his son’s eyes, at least none that John could name. They were the very same eyes that John still had nightmares of sometimes, and yet they were so different now. Not cocky or confident or cruel... just defeated... and that frightened John a lot more than anything right now.

“Dean? What happened? Sam?” John began but at the mere mention of his brother’s name Dean’s face twisted into such a mask of grief he swore his heart stopped beating for a few moments.

"Jim, get the morphine. The boy's hurting," Bobby said. "And get some broth. Hard tellin' when the last time was he was fed." He ran his hand along Dean's soft hair trying to comfort him. They had cleaned Dean up, neither him or Jim commenting on the fact they were washing away come along with dirt. The suspicion it was Sam's come had encouraged them that Sam was okay, though neither could bring themselves to tell John that his sons were…in love…with each other. John didn't need to deal with that on top of everything else.

"It's okay, Dean," Bobby said softly. "We're here for you. You're not alone. You don't have to be alone in this, okay?"

He glanced up at John who had moved to stand by the bed. "Yer daddy's here, and he wants to help if you'll let him.

"We've been working on some plans to rescue you," Bobby continued. "We're getting a gun that can kill demons and we're getting a good stockpile of the demon poison made up. We know Azazel came. We know he took you to some sort of in between dimension." Bobby paused hating to bring up Sam's name seeing the way even Sam's name hurt Dean. The young man considered Sam his master and was in love with him. If Sam sent him away, or if he made a deal for Azazel to release Dean, it would crush Dean and Sam wouldn't really understand that.

"Did Sam make a deal to free you? Had Azazel send you here to us? He knew we'd be making plans to rescue you two. He sent you here to help us, help us rescue him. He is…he is still alive, isn't he?" Bobby asked.

He didn’t want drugs. He didn’t want food. He didn’t want comfort. Dean knew he deserved all the pain he was in right now and more and he wouldn’t allow the men to take that away from him. Dean knew he deserved to die slowly and painfully of starvation, Sam wanted him dead, and he wouldn’t do anything to prolong his life.

When the older man began petting his hair, much like he’d pet the animal, Dean turned his face away slightly from the touch. His own hand dropped away, back down to rest limply against the comforter of the bed. He ignored the dog’s nuzzling and faint whimpering.

Dean didn’t answer the older hunter at first. Though his eyes flickered briefly to the man standing behind Bobby, the hunter he had tortured and nearly killed. Sam’s father… not his… Of course he was alone. He wanted to be alone. He deserved to be alone. He deserved nothing less than to suffer and die alone and in pain for failing Sam.

It was all he could do not to laugh bitterly when the hunter began to describe the “plans” they’d been making to rescue “him”. Not him really though, Dean knew that, to rescue Sam. Nothing they could do would help Sam now. It was too late. Whatever dislike he might have for the hunters who were… who had been… Sam’s friends Dean knew he would take no pleasure in informing them of this.

Dean knew he did not have to answer Bobby’s questions. He could simply stand by and do nothing while the foolish hunters went to their deaths. But he knew Sam, his Sam, not Azazel’s Sam, wouldn’t want him to let that happen. Sam would want him to answer their questions and that was the only reason why he did.

“Sam made a deal… to accept our father’s training, to serve him, if Azazel left me untouched.” Dean whispered, his voice still hoarse despite the water he drank. “Sam wanted me to wait… to let the darkness have him, train him, to use it to kill Azazel… I disobeyed…”

Dean turned his head to look at the older man straight in the eyes. Fully prepared to accept any punishment the hunter would give him for his failure. For what he had done…

“I tried to kill him. Sam… I couldn’t… It was too late, he was too strong, too much darkness… He punished me for my disobedience and sent me away to die.”

Bobby heard John's sharp inhalation at Dean's words, but he kept his gaze locked with the young man's. "Dean, you only know the way of demons. Sam don't think like a demon. He don't think like a slave owner. Sam thinks like a human. He didn't send you away to die. He sent you away to live. If he had wanted you to die, he would have plopped your butt down in the middle of the desert. He sent you to us. His family. Your family. He wanted us to help you. Wanted you to help us. Think Dean. When you couldn't eat unless you were given food, he didn't understand. He didn't understand anything about owning you.

"You know what he'll do for family or anyone he loves. He loves you Dean. He sold his soul to save you. If you…when you tried to kill him, I understand why and I'm sure he does too, that you were trying to save him. That's your job as his slave. To protect him."

Bobby debated long and hard about his next words. They could end up biting him in the ass. "You failed when you tried to kill yourself, trying to protect him from Azazel. But you only failed because he wouldn't let you go, because he loves you so damned much. You failed when you you tried to protect him this time, when you tried to save him from the darkness. You failed because his mind was made up about what he was going to do."

Bobby's words grew hard. "Don't you damned well fail him again. He's countin' on you, boy. He's countin' on you helping us get to him. He's countin' on you coming to help him, to save him. He don't think like a demon, he thinks like a hunter. If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Like a hunter, he hung himself out as bait so you could get to safety, because he would die to protect you. And he knows you're his only possible chance of rescue. You oughtta know that too. You're dark as sin, Dean, but he taught you real love. You changed your allegiance from Azazel to him. For him. We all love him, son, so he's got four people's love trying to bring him back from whatever darkness he's slipped into. Dean, if he could bring you to abandon Azazel, don't you think we got us a damned fine chance of bringing him back from the dark? Stop acting like a damned whipped pup. Unless you really don't love him and don't want him back."

It was difficult to listen to Bobby try to explain things to Dean in terms that he could understand. Bobby and Jim had both tried to prepare John a little to deal with his son, and even that hadn’t been easy. Hearing how Dean thought of Sam as his master, how the younger man wouldn’t eat unless he was given food, and that was certainly just the tip of the iceberg… His son was raised by demons, taught how to behave like a demon, a slave, how was he, a father, supposed to react to that?

He had no idea. That was why as difficult as it was for John Winchester to just stand back and let Bobby speak to Dean… his son… but what else could he really do? Bobby knew the younger man far better than John did. John was worse than a stranger to the boy… man… he was an enemy. He hadn’t missed the look in Dean’s eyes when they’d slid to him all too briefly.

Hearing Dean say how he had tried to kill Sam… it wasn’t easy. Not in the least, and he couldn’t have hid his reaction even if he tried. He was caught between horror and anger, and to his shame he didn’t know whether more of that anger was directed at the demon who had taken his sons or Dean himself for trying to kill his own brother…

He tried to understand. He really did. The way Dean had been… raised… John’s stomach clenched and he had a hard time containing the nausea he felt just at the thought. Maybe Dean had thought killing Sam would somehow save him. Protect him. A quick death versus unimaginable torture… John himself wasn’t sure he could make such a choice. Even if there were no other options and death was the far more merciful of the two.

Maybe John was angrier at himself then. Because he wasn’t sure if he would be strong enough to kill someone he loved even if it meant sparing them…

To his further shame John couldn’t quite hide his growing frustration as Bobby spoke to the younger man, tried to convince Dean to help them find Sam, and the younger man’s expression didn’t change once. If Dean didn’t help them then their chances of finding Sam were next to nothing.

Dean’s eyes met the hunter’s, steady and resigned, and he didn’t even flinch at the older man’s last harsh words. For all his talk of Sam not “understanding” the ways of demons, it was this man who was wrong. Sam understood the ways of demons now far better than most humans ever could. Yes, Sam could have easily killed him and Sam almost had. But Dean was not even worthy enough for the final blow by his master’s hand. For his disobedience the younger man could have tortured him as punishment, but he hadn’t. Instead he had thrown him away… like a worthless scrap of meat…

Yes, he had failed Sam. He was well aware of that, of all of his failures. He was well aware that his punishment was well deserved. If Sam hadn’t meant for him to die, than he surely meant for him to suffer. Alone. Without a master. Without anything. These men… family? Perhaps Sam had meant for them to kill him when they found him, did the hunter ever think of that? Without Sam’s “protection” after all, he was only an enemy. The only reason why Dean would not kill them was because Sam had once ordered him not to.

“He understands the ways of demons now far better than you ever will. He did not sell his soul for me, but it doesn’t matter. He is no longer Sam. If you go to find him, all you will find is your own deaths, by his hand.” Dean shook his head slightly and turned his eyes away from the hunters to stand blankly at the wall instead. “It doesn’t matter if you go to him or not. He will come to find you soon enough.”

John rested his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Let me speak with my son," John said a little gruffer than he meant to, his emotions of anger and shame and frustration all warring inside of him. He settled into the chair Bobby vacated.

"Dean," John began and felt his throat suddenly close. He had to take a moment to regain his voice. Everything, all his mourning for his dead son, now knowing that in truth he had failed his eldest, it seemed to overwhelm him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," John whispered softly. He looked into those emotionless eyes and found tears slipping down his cheeks. His failure had turned his boy into this. "I didn't know. God, son, I didn't know it took you. I never would have stopped looking for you if I had even suspected that bastard stole you away from us. I thought—I thought you died in the fire. I thought you hid or tried to get out and couldn't find your way. There was nothing left of Mary. Mary, that's your mom. They didn't find anything of you either. I just-I just assumed I'd lost you both. Just Sammy and me, all that was left of our family." John twisted his head to look up at Bobby. "My journal." John had to clear his throat and tried again. "Bobby, bring my journal. It's on the kitchen table."

John turned back to stare into those cold, defeated green eyes and took Dean's hand. He suddenly didn't give one god-damned bit that this man had tried to kill him. Dean hadn't known who John was. He was just doing his job, the job Azazel made him do. "Your eyes. They're the same color as Mary's were. You look like her. A little bit. Anyone that knew her, they'd say you took after her. When Sammy told me you were Dean, my Dean, I--" John started to shrug but winced as some of the bandages pulled across some of his still healing injuries. "I could hardly believe it." He gave a wan smile. "Honestly, it was such a shock, my heart—I nearly died when I learned that I had failed you so horribly."

Bobby returned with his journal and John let go of Dean's hand. He opened up the worn leather bound book and out of the front pocket he withdrew some pictures. A picture of a much younger self grinning foolishly at the camera, Mary right beside him was the first one he extracted, showing it to Dean.

"This was your mom. It wasn't too long after this picture that Mary and I went on a white water rapid trip. She was fearless," he said, recalling her fondly. "We stopped after running some rapids and pulled the boat up on shore." He turned the picture so he could see it and stared lovingly at his Mary. "She decided to play hide and seek. I chased her all around those woods. She left little clues, and then," John chuckled, "pieces of clothing. I caught up with her pretty fast after that and," John straightened, flushing just a little. "Well, nine months later you were born. That was one of the happiest days of my life. Right up there with marrying your mother, when Sammy was born, watching you take your first steps and the first time you called me 'Daddy.' I guess you don't remember anything before you were taken though, huh?" John laid the picture out on the bed and pulled out another one. "This is you at Halloween. You insisted on being Superman. This was the year before Sammy was born." He showed Dean the worn picture. The young boy had a huge grin on his face and held his cape out behind him, his eyes shining with joy and innocence.

"Here, this one is all four of us. Sam was four months old." John laughed a little. "You insisted on holding him. I was going to have you in my lap and Mary was going to hold Sammy, but you insisted and so we put you in the chair and laid Sammy in your lap. You were so excited whenever you got to hold him. You would help take care of him. You practically hovered around him from the day he was born. He missed you as much as I did after the fire. You could always get him to quiet down, you always had a sort of special bond with him."

John left the pictures on the bed for Dean. "I guess more special than I ever realized. Please, Dean. It nearly killed me when I lost you. I can't lose Sammy to that demon bastard too. Please help us save him."

Dean’s eyes shifted to the hunter and narrowed a fraction when the older man, Sam’s father, approached him. Having the nerve to call him son of all things. This man who he had tortured. Made scream. Beg... He might have this man’s blood running through his veins, but he also had Azazel’s. He might hate his demon father with every fiber of his being right now, but that did not mean he would accept this man as his father instead.

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting this man to say. Did he really think he could convince him to do anything? He did not care about this man. He did not care about anything, not even his own life. He had lost the only thing he had ever cared for, and there was nothing this man could say or do that would change that.

Whatever he’d been expecting, hearing the older man apologize to him was probably the last thing. The... tears... were even more unexpected. Dean had to inflict a great deal of pain on this man before he had seen tears. He had screamed, he had cursed, he had choked on his own blood... but the tears came last. Dean had been proud to see them then, now... they only made him feel uncomfortable. As the hunter apologized for not coming after him, for leaving him in the hands of his demon father...

Dean’s eyes flickered down to his hand when the older man touched him, and it was all he could do not to yank his hand back as though John Winchester had burned him. But he refused to let his emotions show, he refused to give the other man the pleasure of seeing just how uncomfortable the older man was making him feel.

His eyes... the priest... Jim... had said something similar about his eyes. How they looked like his mother’s... he’d never had a mother, just a father... he wasn’t even sure what “mother” meant. He knew in the physical sense, of course. The woman who had given birth to him, to Sam... but that was all the word meant to him. Nothing more...

Hearing the older man say he nearly died when Sam told him about him... his Dean... for failing him... he wasn’t sure how to feel about that either. All Dean knew was he was glad when the older man finally let go of his hand. But if there was one thing Dean knew well, it was the pain of failure. How he’d failed Sam...

The picture the older man showed him. He recognized the older man of course, well, younger, but he didn’t recognize the woman standing with him. Dean didn’t have to recognize her however go guess who she must be. Soft, pale blonde hair. Eyes, green, like his own. A kind warm smile. Soft humming... a song... no words... just a gentle melody he used to fall asleep to when he was scared. Sometimes he would hum it to himself but it was never as comforting and always made him cry...

The picture of the boy seemed even more foreign to him, even though he recognized it as himself, he did not remember ever... smiling like that. Ever looking that happy. Without pain. Without scars. Just a boy...

The last picture the other man showed him, of his... family... of the boy holding the baby... Dean felt his throat close up. He felt tears in his own eyes and couldn’t hold them back. They felt like they burned his skin as they slid down his cheeks. Even though it felt almost sacrilegious to touch the faded precious photographs he couldn’t help reaching out to the one with him and Sam when they were laid on the bed. Almost needing to touch it. Sam...

But he never got the chance to.

The sudden intense pain that slammed into him made his back arch off the bed as he screamed. He knew exactly what it was of course. He had felt pain like it many times before. Only he knew it was not him who was enduring it. Not directly anyway. But without the runes in that cell that had contained his powers, practically cutting him off from Sam, even at such a distance he felt everything that the younger man was going through. If it felt this bad for him...

“SAM!”

John was a little surprised to see the young man's tears, but elated. He had reached him! Even if Dean refused to help them, he had reached his son, touched him. That in itself bolstered him. Maybe he could get something of his son back, something that demon hadn't destroyed in his precious, innocent little boy. He watched as the man's eyes focused on the picture of their family and began to reach for it. John had long since scanned in the pictures and had them backed up in a few places. If Dean wanted these pictures, even though they were the originals, he would give them to his son. He could get copies printed off for himself. He had more pictures in one of his storage lockers, but these, and a few with just him and Sam that he hadn't shown Dean, were the ones he carried with him in his journal.

When Dean bucked up in obvious agony screaming Sam's name, John felt his heart all but stop in his chest. What the hell…?

"Dammit," Bobby cursed. "It's good, but dammit,"

John stood and spun on the older man. "What's going on?"

Bobby motioned Jim forward with the morphine. "Looks like Sammy owns Dean's soul. They're connected, more than they had been. At least Azazel doesn't have it any more. Sammy's…that's his pain Dean's feeling."

"What can we do?" John demanded, looking at his son writhe in pain and feeling utterly helpless. Sam was going through this sort of pain? Azazel was getting two for the price of one? No, god dammit. No!

"Hold him John," Jim said.

John put both arms across Dean's chest, holding him long enough for Jim to be able to get the morphine into the young man. "We can put some runes around the house. It won't block the connection, but it should make it tolerable for Dean."

"They're torturing Sammy?" John asked softly.

Jim and Bobby passed a sorrowful glance.

"We'll rescue him, John," Jim assured the distraught father. "We'll get him out. You stay with your son. Bobby and I will get the runes up. I gave Dean enough morphine that he ought to fall asleep pretty fast. When he does, come on out and help us."

John nodded wordlessly and sat back down. He moved the pictures off the bed and gripped his son's hand. He stroked Dean's forehead, sweeping back the now sweat soaked locks. He sang softly to Dean just as he had when Dean had been so ill with a high fever that one time just after he turned four. It was probably silly. Dean was in his mid twenties now, but John didn't know what else to do. He wasn't sure his tortured boy even heard him.

Sam...

Dean moaned and writhed on the bed. Sweat slicking his skin and his face now wet with tears of a different kind as Sam’s pain washed over him in waves. If he could open his eyes he knew he would be shocked not to see his own chest being opened up by a white hot knife. Burning and cauterizing the skin even as it sliced him open. God... was this what Sam felt when they were boys? When he was the one being tortured and Sam could do nothing but feel the pain, no way to stop it, or even understand why it was happening?

He felt the hands holding him down against the bed and though he thrashed he couldn’t break their hold, he was simply too weak. The needle piercing his skin went almost unnoticeable compared to every other pain he was feeling. Yet even the agony he was feeling seemed inconsequential compared to his despair, and he wondered if this was the reason why Sam had kept him alive. So he would be able to feel everything the younger man went through, no way to stop it. Every lash, every burn, every cut reminding him of how he had failed to spare Sam this...

Eventually a sluggishness began to sweep through his body and even though it didn’t really do much to dampen the pain he felt coming from Sam, it forced his already weak muscles to relax and lie still. He couldn’t stop the soft whimpers and moans from escaping his throat however. Echoing what he knew had to be horrible screams coming from Sam.

Sam... I’m sorry... Sammy...

Dean barely felt the hand holding his own or the fingers running through his sweat soaked hair. He did hear the soft... singing... however. So damned familiar. Like from an old nearly forgotten dream. The words fitting the melody in his head perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together.

Azazel had made him call him “father” but he had refused to call the demon...

“Daddy...” The word barely slipped from his lips as a breath before Dean fell back into that much longed for see of nothingness.

John watched as Dean relaxed. He was surely still in pain as his moans proved. John wiped away the tears gingerly from Dean's face. This young man was nothing like the cold hearted bastard who had tortured him. This young man was his boy and John would do anything for him. If John's torture had been the start of regaining his family, it was a small price to pay. Now they just had to get his youngest back.

His breath caught as he heard 'Daddy' whisper from Dean's lips before his moans stopped and he fell unconscious. John couldn't stop his tears. Just like when Dean had been four, he kissed Dean lightly on the cheek. "That's right Son. Dad's here. We'll get through this, I promise you. We'll get through this."

He released Dean's hand and gently laid it on the sheets. He had no delusions that when Dean woke back up, the hard hearted man with the emotionless eyes would return. But somewhere inside of that man was his little boy and his little boy knew him. It would take time, but they would build the bridges of trust and love and he would just have to be patient.

He walked slowly out to the kitchen where a variety of bottles and herbs were scattered across one corner of the table.

"Bobby? Jim?"

"Living room," Bobby called.

John walked unsteadily out to the other room. He needed sleep and his body needed rest. But not until his son was safe from the tortures being wreaked on his other son. Jim took one look at John and shook his head.

"Go get some sleep," Jim ordered.

"I'm fine," John insisted.

"We're going to need you healthy for what's ahead. You won't be unless you rest."

"He called me 'Daddy,'" John said softly looking between his two dearest friends. "He was falling asleep, I know he won't remember, but he called me Daddy."

Jim left the wall where he was neatly drawing protective runes and came over to rest a hand on John's shoulder. "You'll get both your boys back, Jonathon. Have faith. And please, go get some rest. Bobby and I can do this. We're only doing half the house so if Dean needs to, he's got a few rooms he can step into and still have his full connection with Sam. Besides, we're going to need a room to work the spell if that's what we decide to do."

"And which spell is that?"

"Summoning an angel."

"Still got a lot of things we need to get for it and a few, don't rightly know how we're going to get them," Bobby said, "but we'll find a way."

John wanted to help with the runes, but he was having trouble even keeping his eyes open at this point. Wearily he nodded his head and just simply sank onto the soft cushions of the couch. He was so tired.

Jim handed John a throw pillow and a blanket then went back to work. John hadn't much more than laid down and sleep swallowed him.

Dean hadn’t meant to disobey. He simply couldn’t resist the pull. It was never really a conscious decision on his part when he… traveled… to see the boy in his dreams. Just as he was certain it wasn’t a conscious effort on Sam’s when the younger boy had come to him when he was in pain. Offering comfort…

He could offer no comfort to Sam now, unfortunately, because the torture was still happening. All he could do was stand there, insubstantial, nothing more than a ghost, no power to stop what was happening. No way to stop Azazel from hurting his brother… only able to watch and feel…

The knowledge that he wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if he had been there physically and not just a shadow offered Dean no comfort at all. It only made him feel more useless, more hopeless, more a failure… if only he had been strong enough, Sam wouldn’t be enduring such horrible pain now. It would be him on the rack screaming, crying, begging…

Not that Dean didn’t scream, cry, and beg now but it was all without sound. His unconscious body might not be feeling what Sam felt, or at least did not express it while he was unconscious, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel everything. Watching Sam go through it was so much worse than feeling it himself.

He wondered if Sam knew he was there. He wondered if Sam felt him or saw him. He wondered what Sam would do to him once he knew he was there. Sam had sent him away and he was defying his master yet again by being here now. It might be torture, in more ways than one, but still just being able to see Sam again… even knowing the younger man no longer wanted him… Dean would have endured any pain, any torture.

He just wanted it to stop. He deserved it, he knew that. He had killed two of Azazel's demons. Already he was still paying for having sent Dean away to his family and this trespass only made it worse. He couldn't have held back his screams if his life depended on it. Almost, he wished he had let Dean succeed in killing him. He wished he was sure, god he wished he was sure Dean was alive. He was in too much pain to even begin to try to search Dean out and reassure himself though. If he didn't know Azazel wanted him alive, he could have easily believed the demon planned on killing him. The scorching hot knife sliced deeply down his back and he shrieked as he arched and tried to get away from the agony. He voice was pretty much gone at this point so his scream was more a high pitched groan. Azazel had traded out the shackles for iron hooks. It had been worse at first, but now the other pain made it little more than background noise.

Azazel stopped for a minute, studying the tools laid out on the carts as he set the cooling knife aside. Nothing like the smell of burned flesh and pain to invigorate a soul; so bracing.

Sam's breathing was labored. His mouth was dry and he was hungry. Sort of. Water. Water would have been really good. He didn't dare ask for it. He saw it sitting on the table as it always was. Ice cubes melting in it like always. Taunting condensation dripping down its crystalline sides.

A presence. He felt something, something faint but there, something so familiar. He blinked, as he lifted his head, trying to see through the blood that had dripped into his eyes.

Dean! He couldn't stop his grin even though it hurt and he couldn't stop the joy that burst in his heart. It was Dean's ghostly presence, they way they used to travel to one another. Unless of course it was just a pain induced hallucination. He preferred the former rather than latter explanation because that meant Dean was okay. The pain he saw in Dean's eyes cut him deeper than anything Azazel could do. There was no hate in Dean's eyes, only misery.

I love you, Sam mouthed, tears slipping down his face, not caring Azazel would punish him for them. I love you, I love you, I love you. Always.

It went on for hours. Dean wasn’t exactly sure how long. He often lost track even when it was himself on the rack. He often didn’t know whether or not it had been hours or days until someone told him. Often it felt like days, even when it had only been hours.

Dean knew that if Azazel hadn’t been training Sam how to endure pain over these last few weeks then the younger man would probably be dead by now. He knew all too well that Azazel had no intention of actually killing Sam. Even if he didn’t know what the demon wanted his brother for he would have known. Because as bad as this was, Dean had seen what Azazel did to those he did not intend to keep alive and it was far worse than this. But then again, even as horrible as it was, there was always an end in sight for them. For Sam… there would be none…

These thoughts did not comfort Dean in the least, but he couldn’t stop thinking them. There wasn’t much else to think as he writhed and moaned in agony on the floor in response to the pain Sam was feeling. It took him a few moments to realize that Azazel was taking a “break” with his brother. It took him even longer to lift his head and realize that Sam now knew he was there. The younger man staring right at him…

He’d almost been afraid to see black eyes, glaring at him with hate, before Sam punished him for being here. But the expression on Sam’s face was anything but hate, and when the younger man tried to… smile… at him… even though his pain, the silent words he didn’t need to hear to understand… Dean felt like his chest had been cracked open and he couldn’t have stopped the tears if he tried. Sam wasn’t angry he was here, he wanted him here, Sam loved him… If Sam still loved him, even despite Dean’s failure, maybe it wasn’t too late…

Dean pushed himself up and went to his brother, not caring in the least that Azazel was right there, that the demon might sense his presence. He cupped his brother’s face in his hands, trying to caress away the tears and blood as much as he could. He pressed his lips to the younger man’s bloodied ones and hating that he was so damned insubstantial.

I’m coming for you. We’re coming for you. Dean whispered against his brother’s mouth. He didn’t know if Sam could hear or understand him, they could never share words before, but Dean still said them. Hoping his brother understood even if he didn’t hear him. Praying Sam could hold on, and that there would be enough left of his brother… even if there wasn’t… Dean would gladly die by Sam’s hand rather than live without him.

Sam felt the light touch, little more than a breath of air, as Dean's hands roamed over his face, though Dean's hand were too insubstantial to do anything. Still Sam managed a smile and stared into those eyes that now seem so hopeful. The brush of Dean's lips against his mouth were a sweet blessing. He wished he could taste him, wished he could touch him.

Dean didn't hate him for his decision. Maybe it had just been a flash of anger and the hate Dean had poured into the attack had just been a tool to access power. Sam was still glad he had sent Dean away, out of the demon's immediate reach. Dean would have warmth and food and love with his friends and father. He knew Dean was saying something through their kiss, but he couldn't tell what the words were. Even so he felt the hope and determination that filled Dean…if he could feel Dean this strongly then all the pain he felt…

Mentally Sam scrambled to bring up shields to try to protect Dean from Sam's pain. He made certain he filled Dean with all the love in his heart before he did. He knew that between their 'connection' and the fact Sam owned Dean's soul, Dean had to feel practically everything. He realized now that Dean had protected him from the true pain the older boy—man—had felt throughout all those years of torture.

He didn't want Dean to think he didn't want him, he just wanted Dean protected from the excruciating torture Azazel was putting him through. Dean pulled back from their kiss and Sam stared into his brother's eyes. Love you, he mouthed as he brought up the shields, hoping it was enough to protect Dean at least some.

His concentration faltered when he felt Azazel's touch on his back. Without warning Azazel plunged his cock deeply into him as the demon reached around and stroked him.

"You feel so hot, so tight, Sammy," Azazel said into Sam's ear as he slid in and out of him. He licked up the side of Sam's neck, savoring the blood and sweat. He buried himself deeply in the human and forced Sam to turn his head and captured Sam's mouth, invading it as he invaded Sam's body. He stroked Sam until Sam was hard and finally broke their kiss.

"Ride my cock, Sammy. Ride me hard." Azazel demanded.

Sam saw Dean watching them and felt sick. He didn't want Dean to see this but he had no choice. He forced himself to climb to his feet and did as his demon father ordered. Azazel continued to stroke Sam's cock as he groaned in approval. He brought Sam up to the edge then stopped stroking him. "Harder Sammy, fuck me better, fuck me harder," Azazel ordered.

The loss of the pressure on his cock made Sam whine in frustration and he pumped harder, hoping it might bring him his own relief, a different kind of pain wrapped into the agony every jarring movement gave him. He felt Azazel stiffen as the demon wrapped his arms around him, shoving in deep and spilling his seed. "What a good son you are," Azazel crooned as he shook with each release into Sam. He finally pulled out with a satisfied sigh.

"You're so much better than that waste of flesh, that whore, your brother was." Azazel ran teasing fingers along Sam's hard member. "So much better."

He let Sam's cock go and walked over to the cart of torture implements. Azazel returned with a corkscrew like pin that he twisted into Sam chest as he reached down and stroked Sam again.

Sam's pain of his need to come blended with the pain of the twisting tool and he moaned. He saw Dean react to his pain and he tried to bring the shields back up again.

"He was protected from your pain when he was in his room," Azazel said as he twisted the tool in deeper, stroking Sam a little faster. "I was trying to help him, protect him. You sent him away. He now shares your pain. This was not my doing but your own." He let go of both the pin and Sam's cock and returned to the cart, bringing back a long wicked looking blade. "He used to keep up shields to protect you and the time the knife that cut him actually cut you, too…" Azazel held up the knife. Ancient runes were carved into its bone handle. "It was this knife, my dear son. So best you shore up those shields or I'll be carving him up while I punish you. It was very effective in taking him to the next level of control. I'll be keeping this knife at hand in the future."

Wiping away the drying remnants of Sam's tears, Azazel tsked. "You know I don't approve of tears, Sammy. Cry again and I will use this knife on you and tear down the shields you are trying to hold on. So keep up your shield for your brother and never cry again, or you now know the punishment. I won't rip apart your shield so long as you obey." Azazel began jacking Sam's cock with hard sure strokes. "You have to learned control, Sammy. You can't let anything distract you."

He worked Sam harder until Sam was ready to come. When he did, Azazel dragged the blade down Sam's chest, Sam's blood spurting out even as his seed did, even as a raw throated scream did.

with a small moan of pleasure Azazel licked the come from his hand, then gripped Sam's hair and yanked his head back. He kissed him then moved aside but kept hold of Sam's hair to keep Sam's head up. "See, Sammy, if you had kept up your shields, your brother wouldn't be bleeding now."

Smirking at the ghostly apparition of Dean Azazel said, "By all means Dean, return any time you would like. I'll be happy to fuck him in front of you, make him whine and whimper just as you dream of doing. I'll be happy to deepen his punishment just for your viewing pleasure." His smile turned dark. "I permitted Sam to continue to come while you were growing up. I won't stop you, either, but I will make him pay dearly for seeing you. You are a sack of putrid weakness my true son does not deserve to be contaminated with. Now, go." The demon flicked his wrist in a dismissing gesture and Dean was gone.

Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s as hard as he could, though he knew no matter how he tried his touch would feel little more than a brush of air against his brother’s mouth. He tried anyway. Wanting Sam to feel him, wanting Sam to remember him, wanting to give his brother a reason to hold on… Dean knew he was a poor excuse for a reason, but he hoped all the same.

When he felt Sam trying to pull up shields between them, like Dean had used to try to protect the younger boy whenever he was tortured, Dean shook his head even as he continued kissing Sam. Cupping Sam’s face and brushing his fingertips tenderly over the younger man.

Don’t. He mouthed, shaking his head again, but either Sam didn’t understand what he meant or he did and did not listen to him. Dean didn’t want Sam to try to protect him from this. It didn’t matter. Dean had endured pain like this for years. He didn’t care about feeling it now. But Sam would need all the energy he could spare just to hold on and he couldn’t waste that energy worrying about him.

Dean broke their kiss with only the greatest reluctance. His eyes pleading with Sam, but Dean could feel the walls coming between them. They were weak at best, as strong as his brother may be Sam unused to using his powers in such a way, unused to holding such barriers. Again Dean tried to tell Sam not even to try, it wasn’t worth it…

It didn’t really matter because Dean still felt when Sam was torn open from behind by their demon father. Dean’s expression immediately twisted into one of pure hatred, snarling at the demon who was violating his brother. Knowing it had happened was bad enough, watching it happen was so much worse. Even though Dean knew it was hopeless he tried to draw on his power to do something. He couldn’t simply stand by and watch this. Not this. To feel Sam going through this…

But no matter hard he tried it was like flies attacking a dragon. Utterly useless. His powers were drawn from the demon blood flowing through his veins and his body was far away from here. He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t ease his brother’s pain, he could only watch and weep and scream in silent rage at the demon.

Azazel’s degrading words, calling him a waste as he praised his brother did not wound him in the least. Once they would have wounded him deeper than any knife ever could, but not now. Now he only felt black hate for the demon he had called master. He only felt love for Sam, and he tried to offer the younger man whatever comfort he could. Ignoring the pain he felt coming from Sam, refusing to show it, as he caressed his brother’s face again, shaking his head. Trying to tell Sam he didn’t care about the pain. Even as his eyes widened a little when he saw Azazel go for the knife… god no…

He didn’t scream when he felt the burning pain of the knife he knew so well cutting into Sam’s flesh. He refused to show it even when he felt the warm rush of blood dripping down his chest and he knew his body was wounded in mirror to Sam’s. Just like the first time he was cut with the blade and he saw the ghost boy drop to his knees screaming.

Sam…

Somehow Dean wasn’t surprised in the least when Azazel suddenly addressed him. Looking right at him, taunting him, and promising to inflict even more pain on Sam if he returned. There would not be a next time. The next time he saw Sam he would be flesh and blood and he was going to tear the demon apart one way or another.

I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD! Dean roared, not knowing or really caring if the demon heard him or not. It was not a threat. It was a promise.

When he was thrust back into his body, Dean came awake with a jerk and a cry of pain on his lips caused by the bloody wound on his chest but he bit it back. Forcing down all the pain and any weakness he felt as he threw back the blood soaked blankets and stood. His knees giving out on him in weakness and he fell to the floor with a curse. Even as he struggled to get back up, he called for the one man he knew wouldn’t hesitate to help him. The one man who hated Azazel as much as he did. The one man who wanted Sam back as much as Dean.

“DAD!”

John's dreams were restless nightmarish blurs of being tortured by Dean, of Sam with demon-black eyes, of losing both his boys to a laughing shadow figure. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, the nightmares plaguing him, when he heard his name called. "Sam!" John cried softly as his eyes sprung open.

No, Sam wasn't here. That demon-bastard had him. That meant… "Dean?" John whispered unbelievingly. He threw back the blanket and pushed himself off the couch in one fluid movement, on his feet and rushing to his eldest son's room. He ignored the pain and pull of the bandages across still healing wounds.

Dean was lying on the floor, his chest coated in blood, struggling to rise. His face was a mask of frustration and fury.

"Dean!" John said and went to Dean's side simply knowing that anger was not meant for him. He felt the electricity in the room of Dean's powers and he guessed those deadly powers were barely under leash.

"What the hell happened?" John asked as he helped his son to his feet. He saw the deep cut down his chest and his mind suddenly flashed back to his youngest son, one night crying out in agony. He came in to find Sam's back sliced open and his son sobbing. He had never understood Sam's tear-filled words of 'they're hurting him,' at least, not until now. The connection the two boys had apparently always shared…could even cause them to share physical injuries.

When he started to help Dean back to the bed, he felt Dean's resistance. He steadied Dean, ignoring his own pain as he pulled one of Dean's arms over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Dean's waist. He let the young man take the lead and it was obvious Dean was intent on getting out to the kitchen. The first aid kit was out there anyhow.

Bobby and Jim showed up at the doorway to the bedroom, their faces probably looking as amazed as John's was. Dean had called him Dad. He was still processing that, but something inside him just simply unwound at that knowledge. A knot he hadn't really known had been there ever since he had learned Dean was still alive and had been the man who had tortured him.

"Get him some sweats and a flannel shirt," John ordered Bobby. "And get the first aid kit ready. Jim, some milk and maybe some scrambled eggs would be good. He needs food if he's going to get his strength back."

The two men disappeared back down the hall.

The walk down the hall was slow. He could feel Dean trembling from the effort. He let Dean take all the time he needed. As much as he wanted to grill the young man with questions, he kept quiet, letting Dean focus on just getting one foot in front of the other. Before he settled Dean into the chair, he steadied him as Bobby helped the man into the sweat pants. Jim already had the milk sitting out and the steaming scrambled eggs were on a plate, ready.

John wet down a cloth and began cleaning away the blood that still trickled down Dean's chest and had already began to soak into the waistband of the sweat pants. "Okay, kiddo, talk to me."

The older man was there even faster than Dean had expected given the state of John Winchester’s injuries. Dean knew exactly what state the other man had to be in too, considering that Dean had given every single one to him.

When the hunter ran to his side to help him, asking him what had happened, at first Dean merely shook his head. He couldn’t speak right now. He needed all of his concentration right now to fight down the explosion of power inside of him that was just waiting to happen. Rage boiling black and hot in his gut just begging for any outlet and he couldn’t give it one. He would literally tear the house apart and anything inside of it if he did and he couldn’t let that happen.

He would not harm Sam’s… family…

However when the older man helped him up and tried to get him back into the bed, Dean resisted, shaking his head angrily. He had laid down enough. He didn’t want rest and he didn’t have time for it either. Sam didn’t have time for it. It was a good thing that the other man did not try to force him back into the bed, instead taking him out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. The painful strain and blood loss was making him feel weak and light headed and he was unconsciously putting more and more of his weight on the older man but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going back into that bed, damn it.

When they finally reached the kitchen Dean didn’t resist when he was helped into a chair. He knew he couldn’t stand up right now under his own power, at least not for very long. He also didn’t protest the man helping him remain upright in the chair or when they helped put some clothes on him. He didn’t even flinch when the wet cloth began to clean away the blood on his chest, though his breathing was a little more labored than he would have liked.

He could still feel Sam… he could still feel his brother and knew he was in pain, but it wasn’t as intense as before. Dean looked up and he wasn’t all that surprised to find runes similar to the ones that had been carved inside of his cell around the room. Probably in all of the rooms of the house now.

As much as he hated being cut off from Sam now he knew it was necessary, he needed to recover quickly. He couldn’t do that if he was constantly writhing in pain.

Dean’s eyes shifted back to John… his father… when the older man spoke.

“I went to Sam. The way he used to come to me when we were kids. I saw him. I saw him being tortured by Azazel.” Dean ground out the demon’s name like the most vile curse in the world. His hands clenching into fists and objects around the room rattling slightly as he battled with his powers once more. “Sam’s not gone. Not completely. I know where he is. We need to go to him. He won’t last much longer…”

John finished wiping off the blood and after cleaning the wound, sealed it with butterfly bandages. The wounds probably could have used stitches, but Dean didn't need any more pain and they would work just as well. The cut wasn't terribly deep, but he knew from experience it had to hurt like a bitch.

John forced himself not to react to Dean's words or the rattling of the items in the room. His baby boy was being tortured and the long gash on his eldest's chest was a minuscule sample of what was being done to him. The scars that coated Dean's body attested to that. He saw one scar on Dean's face, right along his chin, one his boy had gotten taking a spill from his bike into gravel. It had bled like a bitch. It was hardly visible at this point, but it was still there. Another small bit of tangible proof Dean was really his son. Like the birthmark. Like those eyes that were unmistakably Mary's.

"We have to be smart about this," John said slowly. He nudged Dean's plate. "Eat. You need your strength." He accepted a plate of eggs from Jim and smiled gratefully when Jim put a mug of fresh coffee down in front of him.

"We've got a gun that can kill demons on its way to us. Probably be here today, but only a couple bullets. We've got Bobby's demon poison and he's brewed it pretty damned strong I guess, so that will take down some of the demons." He began eating, pulling a few pieces of bacon off of a plate Jim put down, dropping a couple pieces onto his son's plate and then taking a couple for himself. He did likewise with the toast.

"Jim and Bobby left a couple rooms without the runes, in case you need to check on Sam without the interference of the magic. Where Sam's at, can we get to it? I know he's not in Hell, but how do we reach this," he waved his fork, "other place. How many demons are we dealing with? Me and Bobby, we've got no real defense against being thrown across a room. Jim's got limited retaliatory abilities. We've got exorcisms and holy water and salt, but Dean, going up against a lot of demons, and one of Azazel's caliber, I don't know that we've got enough fire power." John glanced at his two friends. "We do have a spell to summon an angel. Do you think the four of us can get Sam out or do we try calling in the big guns? The angel may not help, but we can ask."

Dean scowled a little at the older man’s words, not liking them one bit. What part about Sam didn’t have much time left did he not understand? But maybe he was angry because as much as he didn’t like John Winchester’s insistence that they needed to wait, needed to play this “smart”, and that he was going to have to “waste” time eating to help regain his strength, the other man was right.

So the younger man reluctantly turned to his plate and picked up his fork. Shoveling in the eggs and whatever other food he was given mechanically. Not really tasting anything through the bitter taste of fear and pain for Sam in his mouth.

Dean looked up when the older man mentioned a gun that could kill demons. It would be useful. It had him longing for his knives however, and unfortunately they were probably back in Bobby’s panic room buried beneath a pile of rubble.

He nodded a little when Bobby’s demon poison was mentioned, it would certainly be useful, he could attest to the effectiveness on demon blood himself. It might not actually kill a full blooded demon but it would certainly incapacitate them. Unfortunately though it might surprise the first few demons, it wouldn’t be very effective when the other demons saw what it could do and any injection method would simply be repelled.

“I can take you to where Sam is.” Dean confirmed. Getting there wasn’t a problem. Azazel probably wouldn’t even set up any means to keep them out. He knew how the demon’s mind worked. He would want them to come. To either force Sam to kill them himself, or at the very least, kill them all in front of the younger man. Leaving absolutely nothing left for Sam to fight for…

“I don’t know exactly how many demons are there. Azazel does not really care for the company of other demons. He’ll keep plenty of low level demons around for cannon fodder, but very few high level demons. The exact number I don’t know. There could be thirty or there could be a hundred.”

Dean knew he could handle many of the demons, especially the low level one’s, he could even control some of the hellhounds to help them if he had the chance to. But he would have to focus most of his energy on Sam and Azazel, and not concern himself with the cannon fodder.

When his father mentioned the spell to summon an angel Dean made a disgusted face.

“Angels don’t care about the troubles of man. All they care about is the will of heaven. If one was going to help, they would have done so already.” Dean ground out bitterly, but then he considered for a moment. “There might be a way to convince it though. The only thing that angels despise more than demons are fallen angels. If Azazel’s blood was used to summon one, then it might just work.”

Rumsfeld had had quite enough. He had been a good dog and stayed out of the new pack member's path. He had sat back and watched as the others tended him in the way human packmates did. Once the newest pack member was settled though he trotted forward and promptly placed his head in the man's lap. Though he sensed the anger and power, it didn't faze him. It was little different than when his pack leader was doing such things dealing with smelly things that he wouldn't even let Rumsfeld roll in. It wasn't really fair. But now he smelled bacon. He knew the word. Bacon. He loved bacon. He whined and put his paw on his new playmate's leg. Hopefully he would share…

All three hunters were pleased to hear Dean could get them to Sam. All three hunters were a little taken aback at the thought of going up against a hundred demons, low level or not. They could spray the demons with the oil and poison to cripple their powers, then plug them full of darts loaded with the poison, but that would only be good against the first or second wave and they knew it. There was no way to know if Sam could or would help and that pretty much meant Dean had to be concerned with tackling Azazel. If he hadn't even been able to handle Sam, what chance did he really have against the demon? Still, if he could keep the demon occupied, maybe that demon killing gun could be used to nail the bastard.

Dean's thoughtful look regarding the angel gave all the men some degree of hope. Azazel's blood…Dean's blood? And if angels hated fallen angels so much, then what was the likelihood it would simply strike Dean down immediately? John would not sacrifice one son for the other.

"By Azazel's blood," Bobby said, "you mean yours?"

Dean looked down at the dog’s head in his lap. It had surprised him a little bit. The dog’s attention still baffled him a bit. The animal seemed to look up at him expectantly when it whined, and at first Dean wasn’t sure what it wanted.

Almost hesitantly he let one of his hands stroke the top of its head as he had seen Bobby do, but somehow that didn’t seem to be… Then he noticed the animal eyeing his plate and Dean didn’t hesitate taking a few pieces of the bacon from his plate and holding them out to the dog.

It felt a little odd, for him to be the one giving another food from his plate. Considering he was the one usually waiting to be handed scraps. But when the dog immediately gobbled up the bacon and its tail started thumping happily on the floor, despite the situation, Dean couldn’t help the faint smile that curved his lips.

Bobby asking him if his blood would be sufficient to convince the angel to go after Azazel made Dean look up again. He considered for a moment then nodded.

“It should be enough. I have a lot of the demon’s blood inside of me. A pure sample of Azazel’s blood would be best, by mine should be sufficient.”

Bobby gave a soft snort. "Yeah, somehow I don't think Azazel would be too keen on us calling him up and asking for a bit of his blood." He started to scold Rumsfeld for begging at the table then thought better of it. Dean would only eat food given to him. Rumsfeld wasn't so different, and he did not want the young man to think it was improper for him to be eating at the table with the rest of them. So instead of scolding Rumsfeld, he dropped a few more pieces of bacon onto Dean's plate.

"How many more spell components do we need?" Jim asked.

Bobby sighed. "More than I'd like. We need blood from a newborn. It don't specify human though I don't doubt that would be more effective. I was contemplating trying to get blood from a newborn's umbilical but that's gonna be tough. I think blood from a newborn calf will be best. Three teeth from children…"

"A dentist attends my church. He might be able to help. If not, there is always the graveyard."

"It calls for half a dozen different types of bones from folk so the graveyard's gonna be a must anyhow. I already put in a call to couple contacts for some of the more exotic things. They're already being overnighted. I figure within forty-eight hours we oughtta have everything we need. If we're up against a clock here for Sammy, they I dunno, I'll try to get things pushed up. That spell takes half a day to cast, so maybe we can get started on it without having everything.

"I know you don't want to hear it Dean, but you're pretty weak right now. Don't sees how you can be ready much before a couple days anyhow, and same for you John. Hell, you both need another week or so to even be close to getting yer game back, but if Sammy's on the edge, we just gotta push it."

John looked at his son. Dean looked too pale and it looked like it was an effort for him to even be sitting at the table, eating. "If your blood is enough to catch the angel's attention, does that mean he'll consider you demonic enough to strike down? I'm not sacrificing one son for the other."