Jim sat across from Bobby and John. He glanced at Dean beside him then turned back to the other two hunters. He felt ill at the news he had to give the men. At this point, he didn't even want to consider the summoning of an angel as an option, but it was that, or the four of them try to go in and surely lose, or leave Sam to his fate. None of the options were good.

"Bobby and I translated the spell wrong. It does summon an angel," he said, and before either of the men could speak he continued, "but the vessel the spell components have to be put into…is a person, not a bowl. Neither Dean nor I can act as the vessel. It's up to one of you."

Bobby's eyes widened. "Jim, those spell components, they'll kill a man if he takes 'em in. What about a dead body? We could snag one from the morgue or something."

"It requires a living vessel, Bobby," Jim said quietly.

"What do I have to do?" John asked without hesitation. There was no question in his mind who should be the one to do it.

"John who ever does this, they—there's no telling if they'll survive," Jim said though there wasn't so much argument as resignation in his voice. He just wanted to be sure John understood.

"I don't give a damned, not if this will save Sam. We've already wasted two days getting ready for this. Dean," and John nodded to his eldest, "already told us Sam won't last long. We can't sit down and come with another plan. Besides, what else can we do? Rally a handful of hunters and hope there are only a few dozen demons to go up against? Hope we can get close enough to Azazel to use the gun? C'mon Jim. This is the only real choice and the only real chance Sam has and you know it. The longer we sit here talking, the longer Sam's in that's demonic bastard's hands. So, what do I have to do?" John said.

Giving a reluctant nod, Jim pushed himself to his feet. "We've got everything set up in the basement already. I start the spell, mixing the elixir as I go. At the end, I hand it over to you, you drink it, and I finalize the summoning."

Bobby looked at Dean. "You've double checked everything? We got everything right, all the right components, the right incantations? You're certain we're set?"

The last two days had been… tense… to say the least.

He stood in the corner a little ways away from the kitchen table where the three men sat. His arms folded across his chest, the posture putting a little bit of stress on the healing wound underneath his t-shirt but he didn’t really care. The physical pain helped him block out a little the echo’s he could sometimes feel coming from Sam even in the rooms where the runes had been placed.

Even with the runes, Dean was often afraid to sleep. Afraid he would go to Sam and that Azazel would make good on his promise. Dean was torn between wanting to be there to try to give Sam some comfort, give him a reason to hold on, and fear of making it even worse for his brother. Not that Azazel would hold back just because Dean didn’t appear to Sam but the demon could always make it worse.

It was killing him. This waiting… He was growing impatient with these hunters and their caution. He had done what they’d asked, gone over the spell carefully and pointing out the mistakes they’d made either translating the incantation or the materials they would need for the spell. Really, the men had done a fairly good job since the demon tongue wasn’t exactly something many were well versed in, but the mistakes and extra materials caused even more delays.

It didn’t help that they were constantly pushing him to “rest”. He knew he needed to rest, needed to recover all the strength he could for the fight to come, but at the same time he couldn’t just sit still, doing nothing. Sometimes it felt like if he didn’t keep moving, doing something, then the dark power inside of him would start vibrating till he was afraid it might rip him apart seeking an outlet.

He knew they didn’t understand. Not entirely. Even though they were Sam’s friends, family, they simply didn’t understand. Well, Sam’s father… his father… seemed to understand a little. The man didn’t constantly tell him to go sit or lay down if he became a little shaky or unsteady on his feet. The times when Sam’s pain came through particularly strong and Dean’s powers reacted by making every object in the room vibrate or rattle their eyes would meet and he knew the older man was feeling the same rage and despair.

Dean was just about at the end of his patience, and he hadn’t had much to begin with. Dean was getting very ready to just abandon the hunters to their planning and leave to try to rescue Sam himself, but he didn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t fail again. For Sam’s sake, because he knew he needed the help of these men if he wanted to rescue his brother, it was the only reason he stayed.

He had just finished translating the rest of the spell this morning. Jim had not been kidding when he said it would take at least a half a day to prepare, and there had been a great deal of information to decipher from the ancient book. The vessel… they’d just learned today it was the final ingredient of the spell. A human host for the angel to inhabit. They could not complete the spell without one because not only would the angel be too powerful to contain, but its true form would burn out the eyes and make the hearts explode of any human that saw or heard it.

Dean would have gladly volunteered to become the host for the angel, but he knew that it would certainly not tolerate its vessel being infected with demon blood and he would be torn apart from the inside out in seconds. Somehow Dean wasn’t surprised when Jim told the other two men about this little “snag” in their plan that John Winchester immediately volunteered.

When their eyes met, Dean gave the older man a slight nod. He understood. He hoped Sam would too…

When Bobby spoke up, asking him if he was sure everything was right, Dean frowned a little but he turned to the other man and nodded again.

“I’ve translated everything exactly. Everything is ready. It only needs to be performed.” They already knew that he would have rather recited the incantation than Jim since Dean knew the demon language far better, but they did not want him in the room when the angel was summoned. Once Dean offered up his arm for the blood they would need, he was expected to leave and wait.

Dean was so damned tired of waiting…

Jim was nearly exhausted, even with the hex bag Bobby had devised for him and Dean to enhance their powers. He supposed if he had more demon in him, the spell wouldn't be sapping him like it seemed to be. Dean would have probably been able to handle it much better, but he still was recovering and they needed him at his best. Jim, well, if he didn't have the strength left to join them, it would be far less crippling to the attack on the demons than if Dean was sapped of strength. At least the spell was almost complete. He ground the last of the components with the mortar and pestle and continued the incantations as he mixed the components into what had now become a black writhing liquid. He didn't let his voice waver as he handed over the crystal goblet to John, nor did he let his expression change. He knew he was potentially handing over liquid death to one of his best friends. It simply had to be done.

John had sat motionless for the past six hours, his eyes closed, his mind drifting through memories of his life. Both Dean and Jim had made it perfectly clear he was not to invoke God or pray while he sat inside the angel's trap. He used the time to walk through the good memories of his life. His memories of his parents, of Mary, of his boys, of all the lives he had saved. He had taken twenty minutes to prepare himself for this, using most of that time to write Sam a letter. If he didn't survive this and they managed to save Sam, it would be the last words from him Sam might ever get. He wasn't the touchy feely type of man, but he put all the things in his heart into that letter. Told Sam how proud he was of him, how much he loved him, how much he prayed for Sam to have a long and happy life. If Sam wanted to try to finish school, he would be just as proud as if he decided to become a hunter. He told him to look after Dean and make sure Dean had as happy a life as was possible. And he told him how sorry he was for the childhood Sam had lost and sorry for all their fights.

Really it was a fairly short letter. John Winchester was not a man of many words, but after he re-read it, he decided it was enough. It told Sam the most important things. That he would always love him. That he would die to save him and that he had no regrets in this decision what-so-ever. He took the time to write a short letter to Dean as well with the theme much the same. He wasn't sure Dean really believed it now but maybe someday Dean would truly accept that his father loved him, even through everything Dean had done.

John took the goblet and when Jim gave a single sharp nod, ancient words still spilling from his lips, John upended the contents and swallowed. The liquid was so foul John almost didn't get it all down and even when he had, he wasn't entirely sure it was going to stay down. The liquid seemed to coil in him and then dark tentacles shot outward. His body stiffened. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe. He was frozen. The black tentacles wove through his soul and it felt as if his life force was torn from each of his limbs. If he could have, he would have scream from the excruciating pain. His total essence was curled into a tight ball and securely bound in his mind, all but emptying the vessel to make room for the angel.

The light was blinding, the sound inhuman and painful to human ears as the angel and its grace was pulled into the vessel of John Winchester. Briathos opened its now human eyes. The stench of demon filled his nostrils and the ancient tongue still rang in the room. Looking down, he recognized the ancient magic that trapped him in the circle. Demon magic had summoned him, had forced him into this injured meatsuit of a man. Before him a priest…a priest tainted by demon knelt, his hands shaking from the effort of the ancient spell. The taint to the blood was not the blood that had been used to draw him and trap him. Azazel was that which he tasted on the tongue of his forced vessel and it was not Azazel that had contaminated this man.

He did not sense evil in the priest, but rather desperation, a desperation felt to a far greater degree by the vessel he inhabited. Admittedly, at this point he was intrigued.

He pushed himself to his feet and attempted to spread his wings, but the boundary of the circle would not permit him to fully unfurl them. The magic was too strong for him to break. Indeed likely only an arch angel would have had the strength to break the spell in which he was caught. He settled his wings, refolding them back down and tilted his head at the priest. There were two others nearby. One was fully human. The other…nearly demon, yet too he could sense desperation emanating from them both. The near demon had him most interested. The almost demon, his soul had been chained by another. The desperation that filled him was from…love. Demons could love, but the depth of this love was tremendous. It was…pure. And that, that was most certainly not demonic in nature.

"Speak, priest. You have summoned an angel of the Lord using ancient dark magic. While you have done evil things, you have been forgiven by the Lord for these trespasses. Why then risk your soul now? Surely you realize such magic as this jeopardizes your soul. Though I am contained in this circle of evil, obviously you have need of some boon. Why should I not smite you upon my release?" Briathos saw no sense in using any angelic enhancement to his voice or presence. The priest already knew him for what he was.

"We need your help," Jim said bowing his head as if in prayer. "The man whose body you inhabit, his wife was killed by Azazel. His eldest son Dean was stolen when he was but four years old and reared by Azazel. The younger son Samuel was not taken but was given demon blood as well. Azazel has now taken Samuel and is training him to lead his army of demons. The young man is struggling to hang on to his humanity. His older brother Dean can take us to him, but we are no match for Azazel and we fear Samuel may already have succumbed. His love for his brother and family is strong and we hope to rescue him and if he has embraced his demon heritage, we believe we may be able to bring him back to God's light. We regret the use of the dark ways to bring you to us, but we are desperate and knew of no other way to quickly gain the aid we need. I realize this may have cost me a place in Heaven. We all do. But if we can save Samuel's soul and destroy Azazel in the process, we are all willing to pay such a price if that is the will of God."

The angel was silent for a full minute. Finally he spoke. "Release me."

Jim broke the circle that entrapped the angel without hesitation.

"Bring this 'Dean' before me," Briathos demanded as he stepped out of the circle of evil now rendered useless.

Dean had been pacing back and forth in the kitchen for hours. He was tired, he knew he should rest, but he couldn’t. He was all but wearing a grove into the floor as he and Bobby waited for some kind of sign that the spell was complete. Waited for some kind of sign whether it had succeeded or if it had failed, both outcomes having possible deadly consequences.

If the spell failed, if the slightest mistake was made, if the angel did not enter the vessel, then not only would they have little chance of successfully rescuing his brother but their father would surely die as well. If the spell succeeded, if the angel did appear, rather than help them the angel could decide to kill them all… well, at least those of them with demon blood in them. That was still possible even if the angel did decide to help. But if it was his life that was the price to pay for saving Sam then Dean would gladly pay it.

He could feel the dark energies swirling in the basement below. Maybe too powerful for the priest with barely any demon blood in him to control… Dean wanted to go downstairs but he knew his presence would only ensure the spell would fail. The incantation could not be broken, for any reason.

Rumsfeld whined beside him, the animal had been practically keeping in step with all of his restless pacing, but he could tell that the energies coming from downstairs were bothering the dog now. Dean moved to the kitchen door and opened it, the dog immediately rushed out gratefully, but Dean didn’t follow. He couldn’t leave the house without being overwhelmed by what Sam was experiencing…

Dean was about to resume his pacing when he froze, practically in mid step when he felt it… a shiver running up his spine despite all his bravado. The angel was here…

The young man’s heart was hammering in his chest like a jackhammer. Dean knew he should probably find Bobby and tell him… the man had said he was going to check on their weapons one last time, maybe start loading them into the cars, but he couldn’t move. It wasn’t fear that gripped him. Not entirely at least. It was hope… and he was afraid to even breathe and possibly shatter it.

Every second seemed to crawl by like an eternity before the basement door finally opened and Jim stepped out. The priest looking pale, weak, and shaken but otherwise unharmed. When the other figure emerged, Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Of course it looked like his father physically, but Dean knew it wasn’t. He could have felt the power radiating from the vessel even if he was only human. But he wasn’t, and his demon blood, his powers, hell, his very soul seemed to recoil in fear from its presence alone. The angel’s eyes seemed to pierce him to his core when they turned on him.

“Yes, sir,” Jim said. “He’s upstairs. I’ll bring him down.”

“I would just as soon be away from this place,” Briathos said, looking around at the components of the dark spell still scattered about. “I will follow.”

“May I ask your name?” Jim asked tentatively.

“Briathos,” the angel told him as he followed Jim up the stairs. “And you, priest?”

“Jim Murphy. John Winchester is your…vessel. Upstairs is Bobby Singer and Dean Winchester.”

The angel stretched his wings once before refolding them, then followed the man up the stairs. As he grew closer to the top of the stairs he could feel the protective runes and him. The almost demon.

When he entered the room his gaze immediately went to the young man. His soul was dark and twisted though Briathos could see the man was not quite beyond redemption. There was light left in him, though it was deeply buried and nearly forgotten. His concepts of right and wrong…he didn’t have any. His will was his master’s will. The sickening stench of the fallen Azazel was thick on the boy and yet the stench was diluted by a different essence. The essence still had Azazel as a source, but it was human, it was…love. The one who owned him, whom he called master loved him as deeply as he loved his master. Lower demons ‘loving’ their masters, serving them out of love/fear was typical. This was stunningly different. As he had recognized when he was below, it was pure, almost…holy. And it was for his brother. Incestuous love. Typically unapproved of but there were rare exceptions. He felt the shock of the spirit of the vessel he inhabited. The father had not known his sons had become lovers.

Briathos did not understand why Heaven would have permitted a human child to be stolen and reared by Azazel but if the younger brother was meant to lead the demon armies, perhaps it was to create an ally. An odd ally to be sure, but it was not Briathos’ concern. An opportunity to reach one of the leaders of the angelic rebellion from those eons ago was before him. This was an opportunity to smite one of the greatest enemies of Heaven and corruptor of men. They had tried before to eliminate Azazel. Great battles had been fought but Azazel had stayed in the shadows, out of reach. Perhaps with just these men, Azazel would let his guard down. Briathos could bury himself deeply and stay hidden until they reached Azazel. Even if Azazel sensed him, the fallen one may not consider Briathos, a lone angel, a significant threat. He returned his focus to the almost demon.

"Will you give yourself over to God, fight in His name, and follow the orders of myself, an angel of the Lord, no matter what those orders might be, to save your brother Samuel?"

“Uncomfortable” didn’t even begin to cover how Dean felt under the angel’s regard. However when the thing wearing his father’s face finally did speak, whatever cold fear that had held Dean frozen in place was instantly melted away by wrath. Dean’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin in defiance. His hands curled into fists at his side and despite his best intentions to keep a leash on his powers, cups and dishes in cupboards began to rattle dangerously in response to his heightened emotions.

The sheer arrogance of this holier than thou feathered freak was staggering. Demanding that he give himself to God. To fight for God. To obey “god” and this angel, without question.

To obey a god that had allowed his mother to be murdered by Azazel, that had allowed him to be stolen away from his family, away from Sam, to allow him to be tortured and molded into the perfect weapon for his demon master, and finally when he had found Sam, had pledged his allegiance to his brother forsaking Azazel, had allowed Sam to be taken away from him…

“No.” Dean practically snarled. His eyes meeting that of the angel’s unflinchingly. “Sam is my master! No other! Ever! I will not serve your ‘god’ and I will not serve you!”

He would go to Sam himself, he would face every one of Azazel’s demons and Azazel himself before he swore any kind of allegiance to this thing.

Jim was aghast at Dean's reaction and started to move forward, to go to him, to try to talk some sense into the boy. Before he had barely begun to move, the angel stepped forward and put a hand on Jim's arm, stopping him.

"This is not unexpected," the angel said softly to Jim.

The angel turned cool eyes back on the furious young man. "I understand, Dean," the angel said quietly, unperturbed by the reaction or show of power, as unintentional as it might be. "You obviously agreed to my summoning, as it is your blood that was used, as you stand here, knowing full well that I might consider you demonic enough to smite.

"I am willing to aid the four of you in your attempt to save Samuel. As loathe as you are to take my orders, I am equally loathe to take yours. Yet there must be a leader. I was summoned to fight Azazel, was I not? So then tell me, who shall lead and what is the plan? While I understand the way of demons, do you understand the way of angels enough to know what commands I would find untenable, regardless of the price? You profess that you serve your master, that you will serve none but him. And what if he has gone too far and fights with Azazel now? Will you join his side? Or are you truly intent on trying to save him? Is it his life or his soul you wish to save? I can offer redemption to him, if he has not gone too far, or if his love for you and your love for him is strong enough to bring him back from the engulfing dark. Can you offer him such salvation? As I understand it, time is short, so we haven't time for posturing. Choices must be made and made quickly."

Dean’s hard glare did not abate even as the angel tried to “reason” with him, trying to persuade him to follow the angel’s orders. Yes, Dean knew much of the ways of demons and he was sure that this angel knew just as much, maybe more, though that was a topic of debate for another time. But that certainly did not mean that he knew nothing of the ways of angels. Azazel might not have taught him much on the subject, but he knew enough. He knew that they could be just as crafty and underhanded as demons, only they hid behind a mask of righteousness where at least demons were honest in their manipulation and cruelty.

The angel knew damned well that when he said he would serve Sam only that he did not mean he would join his brother’s side if Sam refused to leave Azazel’s. Dean wasn’t an imbecile. He would not stand beside Sam if that was the case because he knew that was not really Sam. It would be his brother in body but not in soul. He knew what his Sam, his master, his brother, would want him to do. That was the will he would obey.

Redemption… Dean almost spat at the word. The angel could take his redemption he could offer and shove it up his ass. Dean knew he would never be redeemed, his soul was bound for hell sooner or later and he had accepted that long ago. But he wouldn’t let this thing have complete control Sam’s fate. Sam could have his whole life for redemption if that’s what his brother chose. He would not let this angel simply burn out his brother’s soul in a bright flash of light and call it redemption or salvation.

He was going to save his brother.

The only thing he was willing to concede to the angel was that Sam’s time was short and he wasn’t going to spend hours, days, or weeks arguing with the angel on who got to “lead” them.

“Bobby will lead us. You can follow his orders, not mine. You can agree to fight Azazel, the demons he has with him, or not. I know we can’t force you to ‘obey’ any of us. But you know that you cannot find Azazel without me and if you didn’t want him dead as much as we do then you would already be gone. Sam is mine to deal with. You won’t touch him one way or another. If you don’t agree to that, then leave my father now and be gone.”

The angel was mildly amused by the brazen response. He had really expected the man to point out that he knew the terrain and the enemy and he would be the best choice to lead. Briathos would have probably been willing to accept it…up to a point. He had watched the emotions flash across the man's face, his scorn and determination and fury more than obvious as Briathos spoke.

"Very well," Briathos agreed. "But I would offer one exception to your plan. If it comes down to requiring the death of Samuel, permit me to strike the final blow. If he can be redeemed, I may be able to extract that at the end and save him from an eternity of Hell. I can make no promises but would willing to make the attempt. I can do nothing once the reaper has collected his soul. His fate will be sealed. He is your master and your brother. I leave the choice up to you, but the offer is there. However, if I am in battle with Azazel, I will not abandon that fight. Let me meet this Bobby before I fully agree to this arrangement."

He had not much more than made the request than an older man came around the corner. Surprise lit his face momentarily.

Bobby could feel the power, a power different and counter to that which he was becoming accustomed to and identifiable as Dean's. He stared at his old friend, but one look in John Winchester's eyes and he knew the summoning had worked. He was relieved that John wasn't dead.

"Bobby," Jim said, "this is Briathos. He has agreed to help and you have been elected to lead as you are the neutral party."

With a snort, Bobby shook his head. "I don't know that I'm 'xactly neutral, but," he looked between the angel, and John Winchester's eldest, "all right. Come on to the back room where the weapons are. If I'm leadin' then I wanna walk through this plan and its contingencies. We all gotta know what our jobs are. Dean, I know you're anxious to get to Sammy, but if we're gonna win this fight, we gotta make sure we're all on the same page, especially seeing as we got a new player."

The four men gathered around the table. Once Briathos understood their strategy he added to it. "I will go deep inside this vessel. This will perhaps minimize Azazel's awareness of my presence. When no more progress can be made without me showing myself, I will emerge. If we are very lucky, we may be able to make fair progress inside before this occurs. I suggest we waste no more time if you are agreeable, Bobby?" Briathos said. At Bobby's nod, Briathos retreated inside John Winchester's mind and broke the chains of the dark spell that had imprisoned the man's soul.

John Winchester opened his eyes and with grim determination on his face, he said, "Let's go rescue Sammy."

Dean’s stomach clenched a little when the angel offered to strike the final blow to Sam if it came to that. As much as his mind and heart rebelled at the idea of anyone taking his brother’s life, Dean had always known it might very well come to that. That he might be forced to end Sam’s life. Dean had been prepared to do it himself, twice, to try to save Sam from being turned, to try to save his brother’s soul. But he could not deny now that it might be too late for that and death by his hand… if Dean could even manage it… would only condemn Sam to an eternity of hell worse than anything his brother had experienced these last weeks.

As much as he hated it, Dean gave the barest of nods to the “offer”. Ignoring the tight sickening feeling in his gut. Dean would still be the one to face Sam, regardless. He would try to save his brother, and only if he deemed that the younger man couldn’t be saved would he allow the angel to end Sam’s life.

He knew well that in doing so, if Sam’s soul could be redeemed by the angel, he would never see Sam again… ever… That hell would be worse than the eternity he would spend in actual hell after he died, soon after Sam he was sure, but it was a price Dean was willing to pay. As long as his brother was free from Azazel, as long as Sam could be at peace…

Dean half turned when Bobby came into the room and he was supremely glad when the older man agreed to be their “leader”. He trusted the hunter a hell of a lot more than he trusted that angel. While it was true that Dean was tired of wasting time going to Sam, again, he knew that Bobby was right. Also he was the one to suggest that Bobby lead them, so he had to follow through with the deal.

Dean listened and offered his opinion to the plan as it was laid out. In the beginning he would have the hardest task of breaking through the lines of demons that might be guarding Sam or Azazel and protecting the other humans from any attacks made against them. He was expected to be the “big guns” after all. He agreed that the angel should try to remain hidden until the last moment, or else Azazel might simply leave and take Sam with him and they might never find him again. It was going to be difficult and would weaken him. If he could gain control of some of the lesser demons such as hell hounds then it might be a little easier. But if it weakened him too much, he would have even less of a chance against Sam if he had to fight his brother, and his chances already weren’t good.

Still, it was the best possible plan, and Dean gave a sharp nod that yes he was very much done wasting time. Though Dean was a little surprised at the… relief… he felt when the angel retreated and it was John Winchester again in control of his body, that the man was alive in more than just his body. Dean gave his father another sharp nod.

“We need to get to a crossroads.”

"There's one a little over an hour from here," Jim said.

John looked over at Bobby. "You got 'em done?"

"Well a'course," Bobby said and pulled out a box. Upon opening it, he pulled out eight hex bags, four of which were identical to the black, silver inscribed one that had bound Dean's powers those weeks ago. The other four were soft deer hide, beadwork and small bits of feathers sewn on. He handed one to each of the men. "These," he said as he slipped the deer hide over his head, "oughtta hide us from anything short of God himself. It might, and I stress might, make any demonic attack weaker. No promises. Dean, it shouldn't interfere with your abilities or that other hex bag you got that already ramps up your powers. I suggest you give it a small test 'fores we go in though, just to make certain it don't."

"The other bags," John said, holding up the black one he held, "one's for Sammy, if he's with the demon now and one's for Azazel. Anyone gets the chance, use it." His gaze swung to Dean. "It took time, but Sam brought you back to us, Son." John recalled the angel's words. His sons were lovers. He still barely knew how to process that but now wasn't the time to try to wrap his brain around that…wrong…truth. "If Sam fights against us, try your damnedest to get this on him. If you do, don't you give a fuck about the rest of us. You get it on Sammy and get him out of there. He brought you back, you can bring him back. He never lost faith in you being our Dean, in you being able to defy Azazel. I expect you to do the same for him. You look out for your little brother. If you haven't got any choice, if you have to kill him," John laid his hand on Dean's shoulder, "do what you have to. But if you can get this on him, it will give you the chance to do for Sammy what he did for you. Bring him home."

"Iffen you end up with one around you, I put a failsafe into them," Bobby said to Dean. "I put some of your blood in each of them and keyed one of the runes to you specifically. It'll hurt like a bitch, Boy, but you can take it off. With a short incantation I'm going to teach you, it should come off painlessly for you. Just in case."

Jim leveled his gaze on Dean. "This house was always a place John and Sam could call home. Consider it a place you can call home too, a place you can retreat to."

Bobby started gathering up the weapons. "Let's get these out to Jim's church van and get our asses moving then," Bobby ordered.

Dean examined the hex bags given to him. Of course recognizing the one like he had worn when he had first been captured, he only hoped they would be enough to contain Sam’s powers like they had contained his. After all, the runes in the cell that Azazel had locked him in had trapped him inside and yet Sam had destroyed those.

The other one he wasn’t sure how useful it was going to be since as soon as he performed the spell that would bridge the barrier between this world and the dimension Azazel had taken Sam it wouldn’t be long before the demons were on them. But then again, maybe it would help conceal the angel’s presence from Azazel and his former master wasn’t dumb. If only John Winchester was wearing one the demon would know something was amiss. But if they were all wearing one it might throw him off just enough.

Dean pulled it over his head to join the one already hanging around his neck. He wasn’t going to refuse any help at this point no matter how small it may be.

The young man’s eyes locked with his father’s and Dean nodded in understanding even if a part of him didn’t really… like it. Dean glanced at each man in turn, John Winchester, Jim, Bobby. His brother’s family, his brother’s friends, people his brother wouldn’t want him to simply leave behind. Especially when there was no telling if he left if they would be able to get back.

But Sam was the most important thing to him and he didn’t need John telling him to look after Sam. He was always going to take care of his brother first and foremost. He wasn’t going to fail Sam again.

Dean gave a nod to both Bobby when he described how he could remove one of the new hex bags if he needed to and to Jim when the older man told him he could come back here with Sam… alone… if it came to that. Talking done, he helped the other men loading the weapons and the supplies he would need to open the doorway into the van waiting outside.

The dog, Rumsfeld, came up to him with a ball in his mouth a few times and Dean threw it in between trips if only to keep the animal appeased and out from under foot while they worked. When they were done he patted the dog on the head one last time before climbing into the van with the other hunters.

*

A little over an hour later, just like Jim promised, they came to a crossroads.

There was an old legend that crossroads could lead you to many more places than were just visible to the eye. Dean didn’t know if that was true or not, but he knew this spell called for it, so maybe it was.

It couldn’t just be any crossroad, which Jim being a hunter knew because they’d had to drive so long to get here. It had to be old, deserted, and not paved over like a city block. This was a good place, he could feel it even before he took out a knife and slit his palm and began drawing the ancient symbols into the dirt with the knife and his blood.

Dean muttered the spell under his breath as he worked, feeling the old magic swirling around them, all other sound fading away like they were in a vacuum. Once everyone was ready, standing before the runes, Dean took the components of herbs and other ingredients he’d mixed up in the van and threw them down into the center of the circle.

Immediately the ground seemed to split and open up. Peeling back to reveal a dark abyss that seemed to go on forever.

“It won’t stay open for long.” Dean warned and took the first step inside.

Eternity. That was what it felt like. Azazel would make him heal himself, then begin the torture anew. Like Prometheus. Only it wasn't his liver eaten out by an eagle. It was his skin peeled from his muscles, muscles cut or burned through layer by layer. Hot knives drawn slowly through his flesh. Pins drilled through bone. And countless other tortures he could barely conceive of. With his ability to heal himself, he knew Azazel did things to him that the demon wouldn't have risked otherwise.

He was fed occasionally, given water more often than he expected, and Azazel forced him to train even while being tortured. It didn't take long for Sam to learn whenever someone entered the room, no matter who it was, demon, human, whatever, his job was to rip it apart. His dark energy swallowed the life force of whatever he destroyed. If Azazel wanted whatever it was to be safe from Sam, he would say so before it was brought in. If Sam didn't react basically without thought, his father would torture him. The life forces he devoured were like a drug. The more he absorbed, the more he wanted to absorb. The darkness in him wrapped through him, wanting, even needing, more control, more power. It was a seductive mistress that he bowed to more witheach passing torture and wach passing life he destroyed.

He had made a couple mistakes. Once he was thirsty enough that he simply took the water out of the pitcher from across the room and put it into his mouth. He was tortured severely for that. He was to receive nothing his father didn't give him. Another time a demon entered the room, one Azazel told him not to destroy, but Sam did anyhow. That demon bastard was one of his torturers and Sam, plain and simple, took great delight in ripping the creature to shreds. His father was pissed as hell but as far as Sam was concerned, it was worth it. Furthermore, that demon was one of the stronger demons Azazel kept close. It weakened Azazel and as an added bonus the life force had been a delicious invigorating meal.

At times he forgot. He forgot his goal was to kill Azazel. He forgot his real father, his friends. He even forgot Dean. But when he had a chance to catch his breath or just after he had healed himself, he would remember. Azazel seemed to know his mind in this regard and reinforced that he was Sam's father, that Sam owed loyalty to him, that he had promised to serve. The rhetoric was slowly getting embedded. He had to grow strong enough before he was completely lost if he had any hopes of remembering that he wanted his father—his demon father—dead.

His father mixed pleasure with pain, mixed pleasure with destruction. His father would jack him off as souls to be destroyed were brought into the room. They would be there just as he climaxed and the orgasm combined with the addiction of destruction was indescribable pleasure.

When his mind was clear enough, he missed Dean. Even with what Azazel promised Dean regarding what Azazel would do to Sam, just to see Dean for a few brief minutes, to feel that feather light touch…maybe he had all imagined it. He struggled to feel Dean through the chains of ownership but there was only a faint shodow there.

Until one day.

Days? Weeks? He had no measure of the time that had passed for him. But he felt the tremor in the chains that led to his brother. Azazel was elsewhere, giving Sam a brief and much needed respite. He felt his brother clearly, keenly, and kept his tears at bay only out of fear. He closed up his mind, his emotions, so he didn't alert his father.

Dean was coming to him. Finally.

The darkness inside him celebrated, recalling the way their powers could twine, the way they could be one. The man in him was both frightened and ecstatic. Dean had to be protected. He had chained Dean's powers, just as Azazel had. Dean was crippled because of him. He thirsted for his brother's touch, his brother's kisses, his brother's love. Azazel professed to love him, and surely was proud of him, but Dean was…everything. He remembered the taste of Dean's powers, his soul, as he had fed from Dean when they had fought. With what he knew now, if they joined, he could devour Dean's powers without hurting his brother. He could share his powers with Dean. It would be perfect. The two of them, together, leading the army of his father. They would act as one, would think as one, would be one. But the chains he had forged in Dean's mind binding those powers, they had to be broken. He wanted his brother at full strength when they joined. Healthy, strong and at full power. He reached down the chains, searching out his brother's soul. He shattered the chains in Dean's mind, freeing all of his abilities. He poured gold healing down the chains, healing Dean's body, invigorating him. When Dean was closer, when he could call Dean to him without hurting Dean's delicious body, the body that his own craved, he would pull Dean to him. He knew how to do that without hurting him now, too. A smile curved his lips. Soon Dean would be at his side again.

Stepping through the doorway he had opened was a little like coming home. He had lived in purgatories like this his whole life. One of the many dark places secreted away between earth and hell.

After a brief feeling of falling, of all the air being sucked out of his lungs like a vacuum, Dean entered the dimension where his brother was being kept. Of course it was not the same one that Dean had called “home” for most of his lifetime, but it was not all that different either. The “sky” was pitch black but with no stars, moon, or any kind of light for that matter. The air was as cold as ice and thick with dark energy. Even the structure not far away from where he’d “landed” was similar to the one he remembered growing up in.

Azazel had tastes as lavish and twisted as any demon so his “home” resembled it. An old dark mansion as imposing as it was luxurious, only distinguishable from the rest of the cold black landscape because of the few lights from torches inside. This was where his brother was being kept. Deep inside. He could feel him…

He had been able to feel Sam more strongly ever since he had left the home of the Pastor but now that he was here he could feel his brother even more strongly. He could feel Sam’s pain… so much pain… He could feel Sam’s darkness, so strongly that his brother’s soul barely seemed to resemble the one Dean remembered, the one Dean cherished… and he could feel his brother’s desire for him, physical desire and something more… He had been afraid that by now Sam might not even remember who he was, might see him as only an enemy, but now he didn’t know if this was worse.

Dean staggered suddenly when he felt Sam’s power reach for him through their bond, falling to his hands and knees with a cry as he felt the younger man in his mind. He felt that dark desire intensify, the same hunger he’d felt inside the younger man before in the cell when Sam had nearly killed him, right before his brother had sent him away. Dean tried to resist it but he’d been taken by surprise…

Sam did not drain him like he had before however. Instead Dean felt something break inside of him and with it his powers surged stronger. He felt that strange golden light that Sam had used to heal him before pouring through him and he felt the wound on his chest healing, his body growing stronger to match the new strength Sam had given to his powers.

“Sam…” Dean blinked his eyes to clear his vision from the overload. Just in time because like he had warned the hunters it would not be long after he’d opened the doorway that the demons would know they were there. As evidenced by the pack of hellhounds and other demons that were now coming to “greet” them.

“I’m fine.” Dean growled as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the hands that tried to help him up. Through the whole contact with Sam he’d nearly forgotten about the other men. When he felt Sam’s power finally fade from his mind the message was clear. Sam wanted him to come to him. The younger man certainly didn’t have to worry about that, though his brother might be a little disappointed once Dean got there.

Dean’s eyes blazed darkly as he called up his powers to wrench away the control of the hellhounds from the demons, sicking them back on their former masters.

John wasn't quite sure what to expect as he stepped through the doorway. Images of Hell, flashed in his mind. Rocky terrain. Brimstone. Fire. Black clouds in a grey sky. Heat.

The darkness, the cold, the feeling of pure evil all struck him like a fist. It seemed to take a moment for his lungs to realize they could breathe as he finally gasped in a breath. A glance at his fellow hunters said they felt much the same. There was a dim ambient light that allowed him to make out the bleak landscape, but the only real light shone from windows in the hulking building not far away. The lack of stars or a sun, or anything but darkness in the sky sent a shiver down John's spine. They definitely weren't in Kansas anymore.

Dean's sudden sharp cry accompanied by him going to his hands and knees almost had John in a panic. Had the demon already taken a swipe at his boy and they had barely just arrived? Or was Sam being tortured and their bond was going to all but incapacitate Dean? John rushed to Dean's side, and heard Sam's name on his son's lips. So Sam was being tortured?

His head snapped up at the sound of the baying of hellhounds and the rumble of voices as the first wave of demons headed for them. Dean brushed away his hands to help him to his feet and John felt the swell of dark power in his boy. At that John gave a nod and took up his place beside Dean. He began firing the darts into the rushing onslaught, hearing the accompanying "whumps" of the tranq guns coming from Bobby and Jim's direction. The screams of the demons struck by the poison filled darts were ear piercing. Jim's voice was strong as he began chanting exorcisms and black smoke began filling the air as the closer demons were cast back into Hell. He watched as he saw the hellhounds turn back on the demons, ripping their throats out. He knew it was probably wrong, but he felt a burst of pride in Dean's abilities. He had nothing to do with it, the demon had done it, but John was still proud of the way his boy fought to reach his brother. He saw the second wave coming and cursed, pulling out a second tranq gun and firing into the fray.

Azazel stood at the window and watched the four men fight against his minions. He had felt the sudden burst of power in Dean. Sam's doing, he was certain, and he growled a little to himself. He hadn't gotten Sam quite as far along as he had hoped, but still, it should be far enough. When the men entered the room where Sam was, if they even made it that far, his son would tear them apart before he even realized who they were. He found a smile at that thought. That would likely be the final break and Sam would be his. At that point he might even be able to convince the boy to give him his soul.

Dean felt absolutely no pity for the demons that fell before them. Screaming as their black souls were ripped from them and forced back to hell. Writing, dying or laying dead at their feet from the poison they’d been injected with. There was nothing but determination in the young man’s eyes as he advanced forward. Sending his remaining hellhounds against the second wave of demons without thought. He felt some of the stronger ones trying to use their powers against them, against him and the men beside him, and Dean easily caught their powers in his own and turned them back onto the demons. Taking great pleasure as they screamed as he ripped them apart.

“Azazel…” Dean growled, looking up at one of the windows where his demon father stood, watching them.

The shockwave of power fueled by hatred that exploded from Dean blasted every demon trying to surround them back a good fifty feet and slammed into the structure. Shattering glass and raining splinters of wood everywhere. His hellhounds immediately went after the fallen demons, clearing a path for them, and Dean started to run for the building.

“Let’s go!” He shouted, barely waiting for the other men. He could feel Sam. He knew exactly where his brother was.

There were more demons inside, of course, but they fell easily. Almost too easily, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Whether or not that had to do with the increased power Sam allowed him or the fact that Azazel was purposefully holding his demons back, he wasn’t sure. Honestly, he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting to Sam.

The dungeons were not hard to find. The smell of death and suffering would have led them there easily even if he didn’t have his bond with Sam leading them there. The absence of other screams in the cells however was more chilling than anything. Azazel always like to keep around “fresh meat” for his amusement… but there wasn’t any…

When they neared the cell he knew would contain his brother, Dean stopped outside and held up his hand.

“Wait here. Something isn’t right…” Dean told the other men before he turned to the door, and with barely a thought it shattered and he walked inside.

All the hunters felt the wave of power explode from Dean and watched as demons were thrown backward and the wave of power rolled forward and into the house, sharttering anything in its path. Dean rushed forward calling them to follow.

"John, stay close to him. Jim and I have your six," Bobby yelled above the din. The two men stayed close to the Winchesters but stood ready to take down anything on their tail.

The four rolled down the hall, meeting resistance that Dean all but brushed aside. John's hackles rose. This was too damned easy. Not that he hadn't emptied half his ammo, not that a few demons hadn't gotten through and done damage to him and the other hunters, but Azazel was a god-damned fallen angel and had spent the last twenty years making these plans. Azazel wanted them there. Either the demon was waiting for them or Sam was already lost to them and would fight against them. John refused to accept his son was lost to him. He had given up on Dean. Nothing would make him give up on Sam. Nothing.

John and the others followed Dean's orders to wait, all practically gagging in the stench. Dean said something was wrong and he would know. John felt the barest stir of power inside him. Briathos was readying himself. It was up to John to get Azazel there. If they went up against Sam and were torn down before Azazel came, they might not have the strength to go against the demon. He turned to the other hunters.

"Look after my boys. I got a demon to kill," John said.

Jim started to protest.

"I've got the colt. Jim. I've got tricks up my sleeve and you know it." His jaw clenched momentarily. "You know I didn't figure I'd walk out of this. My boys are all that matter. Look after them." Before giving them a chance to try to do anything to stop them, John took off down the hall. He had seen the demon in the window, had heard Dean's growl, and knew that was his target. He muttered incantations as he barreled down the hall, firing darts into demons until the demons started brushing aside those darts before they struck. He switched over to holy water.

"Come on out you cowardly son of a bitch!" John screamed. "I know your god-forsaken ass is here. You destroyed my family. Come face me!"

*

Sam was still resting, still recovering. He was surprised when the hooks running through his wrists were suddenly extracted as the door to his cell exploded inward. He didn't scream. That pain was nothing. He immediately healed the injuries and struck out at whatever was coming through. His job. Destroy anything that came through that door that wasn’t his father. He unleashed his full power against whatever was entering. Azazel had trained him. No holding back. Strike it down, kill it, devour it or suffer for his disobedience. That at least, he had learned and learned well.

At least this time Dean had been expecting the trap.

Even being ready for the attack didn’t quite prepare the young man for it, unfortunately. The sheer strength of the ravaging hunger and darkness that tried to rip him apart was not something anyone could really be prepared for. Sam’s powers slammed into him with the force of a freight train, literally knocking him off his feet.

His own powers had reacted immediately, wrapping around him in a protective cocoon, pushing outwards. Trying to keep the dark clawing tendrils away from his body but Sam wasn’t holding anything back and a few got through, ripping bloody chunks out of him.

So fucking strong… Sam had gotten so strong… It was like trying to fight with a rabid wolf. It was relentless, mindless, rage. Even as his powers struggled against Sam’s he felt the younger man draining him, just like Sam had done before he had sent him away. Weakening him… Sam was going to finish the job he’d started then, and he wasn’t even sure that his brother even knew what he was doing.

No… he was not going to fail again, god damn it!

“SAM! STOP!” Dean yelled as loud as he could, mustering up every ounce of power he could and sent it back at Sam. Not on the outside, but through their bond. Unfortunately it meant he could no longer support the shield that was just barely keeping him alive through Sam’s attack. If that didn’t knock some sense into the younger man…

*

Azazel had already been on his way down to the basement. Dean and the other humans had surely reached Sam by now and the demon was looking forward to the show. He felt the explosion of power from Sam and he was already grinning to himself, just imagining the look on his son’s face when Sam realized what he’d done to his “family” to his precious Dean.

The deal he’d made with Sam unfortunately prevented him from directly harming his pathetic brother. Even once he broke Sam completely he still wouldn’t be able to order the younger man to kill him. This way, he hadn’t ordered Sam to kill his brother, but the guilt the younger man would feel knowing he’d done it would surely push the boy over the edge completely. It would be exquisite, watching those beautiful tears fall even as he punished the young man for them and consoled him at the same time.

Through the ruckus he heard the human’s shout and Azazel laughed as he came face to face with the boys’ father. Now this, this was going to be amusing.

“John Winchester. I’m surprised to see you here… while your sons are busy killing each other.”

He immediately knew the one Azazel had sent him was a test. It was strong, but not nearly strong enough. It erected shields so it knew Sam was going to attack it, but Sam still got a few good pieces out of him. He poured every bit of rage into his attack. The more he hurt his opponent, the less punishment he would suffer. His powers lapped hungrily at the strong life force, a life force that was…familiar. The dark tentacles froze momentarily, something his father would definitely punish him for, but it was if he didn't even have control over them. The dark writhing energy recognized it before Sam consciously did. The life force, it was…the other half of itself.

The familiar voice penetrated Sam's black haze and the blast that hit him through his and Dean's bond nearly staggered him. Reflex made him lash back. Dean had attacked him before, tried to kill him before. With no shield, the tentacles dove forward and wrapped Dean in their power. Friend or foe…?

Sam regained his balance, keeping Dean firmly under his control. He let his powers crawl cautiously up their bonds. Could it really be Dean? …worthless whore… his father's voice echoed in his mind. …weak, putrid, undeserving… Sam slowly approached the man he held pressed against the stone. He let the black fade from his eyes.

"Did you come to try to kill me again, or to be with me?" Sam asked. He wanted to heal his brother, but until he knew the answer, he wouldn't. Azazel couldn't punish him for not killing Dean, so he felt a small bit of relief in that. Though depending on Dean's answer, and the truthfulness of it, he might have to.

*

"My boy is stubborn," John said. "Both of them. And both of them have Winchester strength. Sam stole Dean away from you. What makes you think Dean can't do the same of Sam? And your little bargain with Sam won't mean a damned thing if you're dead."

John wanted to kill the demon with his bare hands, wring the life from him, slice him open and watch his guts spill onto the floor. He thirst for vengeance was monumental. That demon bastard was going to die. Maybe he wouldn't get to do it himself, but he was the weapon that would see the demon fall. He gave Azazel a final knowing smile and then let his soul step aside.

Briathos burst free of the place he had hidden himself deep in the father's mind. He struck at the demon with his holy grace, throwing the demon back and into the wall as the grace pierced the fallen angel's soul. "Corrupter of men, Leader of insurrection, your death is demanded by our Holy Father."

The angel's voice boomed. The mansion trembled, walls cracking, floor shaking, lightning dancing around him as he spread his wings and Holy wrath filled his being.

The backlash of power that Sam hit him with when his shields were down was almost enough to render Dean unconscious. Dean groaned softly where he lay on the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut and just forced himself to breathe no matter how much it hurt. His ribs felt crushed and every breath he drew was agony, but the darkness, the hate, emanating from Sam felt so much worse. Even if he wasn’t already held frozen in place by the cold tendrils of power winding their way into him he didn’t think he could have moved.

Dean forced his eyes open when he felt Sam standing over him, blinking the blood out of his eyes. Sam’s question… he supposed it wasn’t unexpected. He had tried to kill Sam twice now, and failed. Why should his brother expect anything different from him now? Dean’s reasons for trying to kill him didn’t matter. Especially when he had no idea what Azazel had made his brother believe between the last time he had seen Sam and now.

It still hurt though, as much as he tried to deny it. The last time he had seen his brother, Sam had seemed so happy, so relieved, to see him. Now the younger man’s first instinct upon seeing him was to attack him. The power, the darkness… it wasn’t Sam’s fault, it wasn’t Sam, not really… it was what Azazel was trying to turn Sam into. Just like what Azazel had tried to turn him into. Until Sam, his brother, his master, his lover, had shown him something other than hate.

Dean spat out a mouthful of blood.

“I came to take you home.” Dean managed to rasp. Reaching out to his brother physically was impossible, so he reached out to him with what little was left of his powers right now. Trying to pour all his love for Sam down the chains that bound his soul to his master.

Dean felt the reverberations of the battle upstairs even through the floor where he laid and he knew the angel had revealed itself. Angel against fallen angel… they all needed to get out of here as soon as possible, before the resulting battle buried them all alive.

“Come home with me? Please… I love you…”

Sam circled the man he held pinned. He could feel the pain coming from him, both through the chains of his soul and the tentacles that held him.

Home…his home was here. Here where the training took place. Here where his father tortured him, tended him, fucked him. There was no deception in the man's words. He felt so confused. He felt the love Dean felt for him. You're mine. I'm yours. Always. The words echoed in the distant reaches of his mind.

He was sworn to serve Azazel. Sworn to accept his training….And he had done so. He had not said how long he would do these things. Only that he would. But if he called the deal met, Dean would be in danger again. Dean. His love.

Go home with him? But their home was here…wasn't it?

He felt the battle above, the sheer power that shook the foundations of this place.

Loved him. Tried to kill him. Worthless…No! Dean was not worthless. Dean was precious. More precious that anything.

Dean served their father. Had served. Still served? Sam fell to his knees. He was failing his father's test. He knew he was. But Dean…

He reached out with his powers and healed the man he loved. If Dean wanted him dead…then so be it. He didn't know anymore what was and wasn't. Failing Azazel meant punishment. Terrible punishment. The type where the only thing you could remember was how to scream. He had forgotten things. He was certain of that. Important things. When he tried to remember them, they slipped through his fingers like sand. Dean was here now. Dean loved him. Dean would do whatever was supposed to be done. Sam's death. Sam's rescue. Whatever was meant to be.

He withdrew his dark power and sealed it back inside himself.

Sam let his shields fall and bowed this head. He gave his fate over to Dean.

Dean's eyes followed Sam, nothing but trust and love in them. Surely if Sam had wanted him dead he would already be dead. The fact that his brother was hesitating meant something, didn't it? Maybe his words had reached the younger man? What if they didn't? He didn't know what Sam would do. Demand that he stand by his side? Azazel's side? Kill him if he refused?

He still had the hex bag in his pocket that would bind Sam's powers… if he could just get it on the younger man. That was certainly easier said than done when his brother held him frozen in place and all he could do was wait for Sam's judgment.

He had sworn he would not fail Sam again… he would not…

Dean couldn't contain the small gasp that escaped his lips when he felt the sudden rush of warmth, of light, flow into him. The same golden light that had filled him when he had first stepped through the doorway, healing him then, healing him now. His breathing eased almost immediately and soon the pain was gone as well. Dean looked up at his brother hopefully.

The dark power vanished, allowing Dean to move again, and he pushed himself up. He felt Sam's powers retreat inside of him. Leaving himself completely vulnerable. Sam wore the same posture, the same expression, that Dean himself always had when kneeling before his demon master. Azazel. He hated it. Sam would never bow his head to him again, ever.

Dean didn't hesitate wrapping his arms around the younger man, pulling Sam gently but firmly against his body, and kissing him. Touching Sam tenderly and wrapping his powers around the younger man, caressing him as though he were made of the finest china.

"Sam… I'm yours… you're mine… love you…" Dean whispered over and over between tasting his brother's lips. The battle continued to rage above them but for this moment in time it was just him and Sam.

Sam waited for judgment even though he knew it was wrong. He owned Dean's soul…right? Maybe…maybe he had it wrong. Maybe Dean owned him? If he owned Dean's soul…and he thought he did….the slave should not have power over the master, but Sam knew he was lost. It was a slave's job to protect his master. So either Dean would protect him or if Dean owned him, look after him because that was a master's job. To look after, to punish, to love his slave. …But Azazel…his father…he served his father…demon father…not real father…not dad…

Sam was startled when the older man's arms wrapped around him, pulling him firmly against him yet it was the most gentle of embraces. Azazel was never so gentle. Dean kissed him again and again and he felt the powers wrap around him, gentle and loving and in a way he …almost…remembered. Sam opened his mouth, the way he was supposed to, to let Azazel's tongue in. Yes, Dean must own him. He didn't remember selling his soul. He remembered being adamant that he wouldn't. But the chains were there. He felt their souls chained together. Maybe he had grown weak and had done so. A servant would never so boldly kiss his master without his master asking for it.

Yours…Mine…Love…

Maybe Dean had been testing him. Maybe Azazel had given him to Dean to train and to serve. But Dean was in disfavor. Why would he do that? Maybe Sam was in disfavor. Maybe he had done something wrong. He felt himself tremble as the fear passed through him and he curled his powers a little tighter in on themselves inside him. If he had done something wrong, the punishment would be severe.

He knew one thing. He trusted Dean without question. Azazel…he had never trusted Azazel, not all the time anyhow. His father would punish him for no reason he understood. Father…demon father…his mind struggled, trying to remember something that was important.

Dean's lips, Dean's taste. It was so sweet. He moaned into Dean's mouth. Tears weren't allowed but he wanted to bury his head in his master's shoulder and sob. He did the unthinkable anyhow. He pulled away from Dean's kiss and did just that, sobbing into the crook of Dean's neck. He had done so many wrong things. So many terrible things. God, God would forgive him.

"Forgive me," he begged softly. "Forgive me."

The chains between them were wrong. So very wrong. He began to weave the chains of ownership throughout his own soul as he pulled out the chains wrapped in Dean's soul, pulled them out so Dean held them. He wanted Dean to own him, not Azazel. He would serve Dean. Whatever Dean asked of him, he would do. He trusted Dean. He loved Dean. The chains he felt forged to Azazel shattered. The deal was done. He had met his bargain and now, now he could serve and love and protect Dean.

"Master," Sam cried softly. "I love you."

Dean could sense his brother's confusion. He could feel the younger man's fear. It wasn't all that different from what Dean had felt before, when he had renounced Azazel as his master and pledged himself to Sam instead.

His heart twisted like a knife was being thrust into it and it brought tears to his eyes to think of everything that Sam must have gone through… Everything his brother must have suffered, for him. To keep him safe… Sam had gone through such pain. Perhaps even worse than Dean himself had suffered at the demon's hands, to change Sam like this.

But it was still Sam. His Sam. He knew it. He felt it. No matter what the demon had done to his brother, it was still Sam inside. He would protect Sam. He would help Sam remember. He would take care of his brother and never let anything harm him again.

Dean felt the floor beneath their knees shake again, even more violently than before and bits of debris began to rain down from the ceiling. They couldn't stay here. They had to leave now. And yet, when Sam buried his face against his neck, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, Dean didn't move a muscle except to hold the younger man tighter to him. Running his fingers through his brother's hair and down his back, kissing the side of his face. Soothing, petting, loving…

It was wrong. It should be Dean begging forgiveness from Sam, for failing him, for leaving him in the hands of Azazel, for letting him suffer like this. But Sam seemed so fragile right now in his arms, like one small push could shatter him completely, and he could not lay the burden of his guilt on the younger man's shoulders.

Dean gasped however when he felt Sam's powers working at the chains that bound their souls together, the twisting pain in his heart now like a gaping bleeding wound when he felt Sam pull the chains out of him. No… what had he done? Why? He wanted to beg Sam why after everything was he throwing away his soul, why Sam no longer wished to be his master… But before he could he felt Sam chain his soul to Dean's instead and…

No, it was wrong. Dean could not be the master. Sam was the master… But if he refused this… Dean remembered well how lost and scared he'd felt… was feeling now… when he thought Sam no longer wanted him. Somehow Sam thought he was the master. He didn't know why, but if he refused to claim his brother's soul he didn't know what Sam might do. What if he tried to give it to Azazel instead…

Another tremor though the floor, the walls cracking around them, and Dean knew they'd run out of time. They would fix this later, but for now Dean accepted and wrapped his powers around his brother's soul as protectively as they were wrapped around Sam's body. Dean quickly stripped off his flannel shirt and slid it around the younger man's bare shoulders, and then lifted his brother up into his arms. Dean walked quickly to the door, cradling Sam protectively against him.

"I've got you. I've got you, Sammy. You're mine." He whispered soothingly into Sam's ear, stepping out of the room he was very glad that the two hunters had obeyed him and not entered. If they had there would have been no way for Dean to protect them, Sam would have killed them instantly. Even if he didn't remember who they were now, eventually he would, and it would kill Sam to know what he'd done to his friends. Dean wasn't all that surprised to see the bodies of a few more demons in the hallway and the hunters looking a little worse for wear but at least alive.

"We have to go, now!" Dean ordered, ignoring the worried looks that the older men were giving Sam. They didn't have time now. Dean started to run back down the hall the way they'd come, barely waiting for the other two men to follow him.

Sam's sobs softened as he felt Dean's power wrap around him. He let go of Dean when his master pulled away. He was ready to go into the chains—no hooks—again. He wasn't often allowed off of them this long, and with him failing his test, he had no doubt it would be a long time before he was off of them again. He was startled when Dean wrapped the shirt over his shoulders. He had failed. He shouldn't be rewarded. But it that's what Dean wanted. He was even more surprised when Dean picked him up, holding him protectively. He hadn't felt so safe in so long. He had long since learned not to question. He kept his arms wrapped around Dean's neck and his head buried against his master. He didn’t' know who Dean was speaking to and didn't look up to find out. It didn't matter. Just more underlings.

He didn't know where they had to go, but the power he felt that shook the mansion was almost frightening. He could tell his father was in battle and he lifted his head.

"Father is fighting. Shouldn't we help him?" Sam asked tentatively, but when the man holding him began to ran, he gripped dean tighter. He could walk. He could run. But apparently Dean didn't want him to, so he didn't resist. Maybe they were going to help father. He was suppose to lead the army after all. He readied his powers for the fight ahead. That must be why Dean was hurrying. He wondered who his father was fighting, not that it mattered. Maybe he could regain favor if he did well. Maybe he wouldn't be as badly punished for failing his test if he did well.

Dean stumbled more than once as he ran, just from the shocks traveling through the floor. But he didn’t slow and he didn’t loosen his hold on the precious burden in his arms, not for one second. He wasn’t all that surprised that they met no further opposition as they made their way out of the crumbling mansion. Any demons left alive would have probably fled in terror once they realized the angel and former angel were locked in battle. Even the hellhounds that Dean had controlled earlier were gone.

That was just fine with Dean. His only concern right now was Sam, getting Sam as far away from Azazel as possible.

Sam’s question though, about going to aid their father made Dean grit his teeth. He knew Sam was speaking about Azazel and not John Winchester and if possible it made him want to kill the demon even more. Dean shook his head , brushing his lips tenderly over Sam’s forehead when he felt the younger man’s power stir.

“Don’t worry about that. Just relax. Conserve your strength. I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He reassured Sam softly.

Once outside of the crumbling structure even the ground was trembling violently like an earthquake, and Dean wondered briefly if even this dimension would survive the battle between the demon and the angel or if it would simply crumble in on itself destroying both of them. Dean did not like the answer his mind came up with even as he quickly recited the incantation that would open the door back between this realm and the human world. Instead of stepping through it with Sam, Dean turned to the two other hunters.

“I’m going to help Dad, Sam. Bobby and Jim are your friends. Go with them. They’ll help you, they’ll take care of you.” Dean told the younger man gently, kissing him softly one last time, then, as much as it killed him to do so, he handed Sam off to Bobby and Jim. Giving the two older men a glare that broke no argument. “Get him out of here.”

Without waiting for the hunters response Dean ran back towards the crumbling structure.

The dimension was beginning to fail. Sam could see it unraveling at its distant edges. Well, not see it, but feel it. Dean told him to relax but he couldn't. He also knew Dean wasn't strong enough alone to take care of it, no matter what he thought.

Dean set him down between his two minions. Bobby and Jim…those names were familiar and he knew he should know them.

He was beginning to get frustrated.

Everything had been clear until Dean came into the room and told him he…loved…him. He felt the love and the trust even though he could have crushed the man. Even if the battle that was raging had not been under way it would have shaken his foundations. He knew Dean. He loved Dean. And yet, he…well, he didn't really remember him. He remembered bits and pieces. Things seemed to keep getting foggier and foggier. Ever since his father had been carving runes into him and having him drink the foul red liquid. Father poured things into the runes and had Sam heal them over with the bits and pieces of herbs and liquid still in them. Things were so clear when his father was near him. The further he got from his father the fuzzier he seemed to get in the brain. Father…dammit, something important was there in his brain. Something so very damned important.

He finally looked at his master's two minions. Jim and Bobby. They were familiar. Friends. Yes, they were friends…family even?

His gaze followed Dean back toward the house that surely wouldn't stand much longer. The two minions…friends…took him by either arm and tried to guide him through the doorway that would take him away from his master, from the one he loved and served, from Dean. No. Even if he were severely punished for it, he would not go. With hardly a thought he gently lifted them up, disengaged their grasp from his arms, and nudged them toward the doorway.

"I can not leave him," he said apologetically before he gave them the final push through. "I will make certain he does not blame you. Stand ready. Dean and I, we will be there soon and…we will probably need help."

Once the friends were safe, he turned back toward the house and ran after his master. If they joined, if their powers united as one, nothing could stand before them. And Dad needed help.

Sam almost stumbled as the face of a man flashed into his memory. Dad…

Determination filled him. Dean was going to help Dad. Not Father. Dad.

Azazel stood gloating over the bloodied form of Briathos. The angel inside of the man had certainly taken him by surprise. It wasn’t often, though he had to admit, these Winchester’s seemed to surprise him much more than anything else ever had in the last millennium. But it was finished now.

The pathetic man that the angel wore could barely stand now. His own meat suit wasn’t much better off at the moment but what did he really care? He would merely take another when he was done here. Perhaps he would even take Dean’s body as his own, the young man certainly had many fine qualities he’d enjoyed over the years and he could just imagine the look on Sam’s face as he fucked him with his brother’s body… if there was anything left of the boy once Sam was through with him that is.

“Give up, Briathos.” The demon ordered almost casually as he used his powers to crush the angel pinned to the floor just a bit more. The angel would be able to heal almost any wound the man suffered but he could not heal death. If the man died while Briathos was still inside of him, so would the angel.

“You’ve lost. Leave, crawl back to your pathetic Holy ‘Father’, and I’ll let you live. This world will be mine. You don’t have the strength left to stop me.” Azazel taunted, sneering, and he was unprepared for the sudden blast of power that knocked him back. Making him lose his grip on the angel at the same time he turned his eyes, promising death, on the intruder who had dared the interruption. Only to be surprised again seeing Dean Winchester standing in the doorway, glaring back at him with just as much hate.

“You’re the one who’s lost.” Dean growled.

Sam ran faster when he felt the power surge he recognized as his master's…brother's energy. Dean was his… brother. How could he have forgotten that? He still felt confused, but it seemed like some of his cognitive skills were beginning to return. He didn't remember a lot yet, and he suddenly regretted calling the deal between himself and Azazel finished. If he hadn't, Azazel would not be able to strike back at Dean.

He took the stairs two at a time, realizing just how much danger his brother was in and praying that Dean realized it too. All he could feel at the end of the hall was dark writhing power and rage.

Dean was definitely stronger since Sam had released the chains that had bound a goodly portion of his abilities, but Sam had weakened him when he attacked him and Dean had already gone up against several demons and wasn't as fresh as he could have been. Sam released all his power, pulling out more from himself than he thought was possible, more than Azazel had ever been able to extract, because that dark energy was fortified with his complete and utter love and devotion to Dean. He cast his powers ahead of him and found Dean's monstrous roiling mass of energy. Without hesitation he wrapped his power into his brother's, uniting them, giving Dean free access to every dram of energy Sam possessed.

Losing had never been an option. Not for the angel Briathos and not for the man whose body he inhabited. Even if it cost them both their lives, Azazel could not be allowed to go free. The angel and the man, John Winchester, were in perfect agreement on that point even if their reasons were different. The angel would not permit the demon to go through with his plans of destroying his father’s world, and the man would not give the demon a chance to go after his sons again.

So when the tide of battle had begun to turn unfavorably for the angel, Briathos had done the only thing he could. He had begun destroying the very core foundations of this dimension. If it did not kill both the angel and the demon outright then at least it would trap them here indefinitely. He would never allow Azazel to escape. The price had been more than acceptable to John Winchester.

At least until he felt the surge of power that had attacked Azazel, recognizing it as his son’s almost before he recognized the younger man’s voice. NO! Briathos had felt the doorway to the dimension open. He had reassured him that his sons would be safe.

“Dean… Get out!” John Winchester managed even as the angel rushed to heal his body now that the attack on it had been interrupted. John would not let his son die here with him! But the younger man completely ignored him, focused completely on his former demon master.

The look of shock on Azazel’s face would have been almost comical if it wasn’t immediately followed by such an expression of black hatred. Azazel had been too preoccupied to notice before how the chains he held on Sam’s soul through the deal had been shattered. Sensing now how Sam was bound to Dean, not the other way around, ignited such a rage inside of him the structure began to tremble even more violently around them.

He’d had enough of these games! He would not let this boy ruin all of his plans! If the deal no longer stood he could shred Dean Winchester apart into so many pieces his brother would not be able to find one intact organ. Dean would go to hell and he would make his brother suffer so much Sam would beg to join his brother in hell just to be free of it!

Yet Azazel’s attack never reached the boy, slamming into Dean’s power and though the boy stumbled back a little under its force he was left untouched. Fighting in a reverse tug of war against the power of a fallen angel! It was impossible!

Dean seemed just as surprised for a moment that he was still alive, but he didn’t let his concentration waver even for a moment. Even once he realized it was not only his power that was keeping Azazel’s at bay. Sam… god damn it! He’d told the younger man to leave! He felt Sam’s power join with his completely, giving control of it over to him, much like when he and Sam had used their combined powers to heal Jim. How they had formed the shield to keep Azazel from killing them in the panic room. Only now their powers were not focused on healing or protection. They were intent to destroy.

And whether it was because Azazel was weak from his battle with the angel or he and Sam were simply stronger together than the demon who had given them their powers, they were succeeding. Azazel’s defenses crumbling. He could see it on the demon’s face when Azazel realized it too.

Azazel wasn’t foolish. He knew when to cut his losses and run, and Dean could see the split second when the demon decided to do just that. When the black cloud of smoke began to erupt from the meat suit he was wearing, trying to escape, and Dean refused to let it happen. His eyes flashing gold as he pulled on every bit of power both he and Sam possessed, forcing Azazel to remain inside its host. The bastard wasn’t getting away from them!

“Dean!” He barely heard his dad shout. The gun slid towards him. His still wasn’t strong enough to use it and Dean was closer. A second later the gun was in his hand. Its shot like thunder even in the roar of the crumbling structure around them. Hitting the demon square in its chest. The shock and pain on Azazel’s face more gratifying than anything Dean had ever witnessed. The demon’s soul extinguishing inside its body in bursts of internal fire right before their eyes.

Dean felt his knees give out and he crumbled in exhaustion even as Azazel fell down dead at his feet. The golden sheen of the demon’s eyes that had always terrified him so much fading to nothing. It was over.

The walls continued to shake as the dimension closed in on itself. Distant parts unraveled, the destruction slowly eating its way toward the mansion, then reaching the mansion itself and chomping through the masonry and wood as if it were nothing. Sam stumbled to one knee, pushed himself back up and rushed on toward the room where his brother was.

The blast of energy that hit his brother made him stagger as readily as it had Dean, but their shield held. He reached the door in time to see Dean level an old Colt 45 at Azazel…his father. Sam started to move forward, to stop Dean. He saw a man, his…dad? lying nearby and before he could try to stop Dean, the gun went off, the sound of it ear-rending. His father collapsed, electrical fire sparked like lightning across and inside the body that the demon wore. Sam stood, stunned. Father? Dean had killed father?

Dean was his master. If that's what his master wanted, then it was obviously the right thing. He ran forward to where his brother had collapsed.

"I've got you," he told Dean reassuringly. He could feel the encroaching destruction of the dimension. They had to get back to the doorway before that path was closed. He wasn't certain they could find another way out if they didn't.

His gaze slid over to the man that a voice inside him told him was 'dad.' His attention flicked briefly back to his father, then back to the man who was inhabited by a powerful force. Since Dean had killed father and father was obviously trying to kill…Dad…then…Dad and whatever was in him was a friend. He picked up the gun that had killed Azazel, certain it was something that should not be lost or left behind.

Pulling Dean's arm over his shoulder he got Dean to his feet. "C'mon, we have to get out of here. The dimension is failing."

Even as exhausted as he was Dean managed to look up at his brother when Sam knelt next to him. He was both relieved to see that the younger man was unharmed and terrified that Sam was here instead of back in the human world where he should be. Safe… Here, was anywhere but safe and Dean certainly didn’t have time to be upset. Not when the very floor they were kneeling on suddenly lurched beneath them, sending them both almost sprawling even as Sam helped him to stand.

They weren’t going to make it… not when the mansion was already being consumed by the edge of the dimension as it collapsed in on them.

But even as Dean turned his head towards… dad… the man he had risked his and Sam’s life to help, the man was there right beside of them. It was obvious the angel hadn’t had time to completely heal the body it was inside but it had healed it enough.

The older Winchester wrapped his arms around both his sons and before Dean knew it they were flying. Dean didn’t really have time to mentally berate himself for forgetting that angels had wings as the room they’d just been in literally disintegrated behind them into nothing.

John had barely set them both down on the ground before Dean was grabbing his knife and reopening the doorway back to the crossroads as quickly as he could. It had barely opened before Dean was shouting “Go!” grabbing Sam and shoving them both through.

They weren't going to make it. That was the thought that went through Sam's mind. Even with he and Dean combining their powers, they weren't strong enough to withstand the collapse of reality around their ears, and certainly not after the recent expenditure of power. That was when the other man…Dad, his mind supplied hesitantly, was there and grabbed both he and his brother.

Wings. His dad had wings. He felt the absurd desire to laugh. A demon for a father, an angel for a dad. He wondered if maybe his mother was a Greek goddess. At this point, he didn't think he would be surprised.

They barely made it out and away from the gaping maul of the Void as it consumed more and more of the mansion. Sam had hardly begun to find his balance after the angel set them down when Dean was bleeding and chanting and Sam was pushed/pulled through the dimensional door and landed flat on his face. Dean's minions—his friends—were there and rushed forward immediately pulling Dean and Sam away from the rip in the fabric of the universe. The angel barely made it through before the black angry tear folded in on itself and was gone.

Sam sat up with the help of the older grizzled man, Bobby. His focus immediately went to his master but Dean seemed okay except for his bleeding hand and panting to catch his breath. Sam reached out with his powers and mended the bleeding hand, but felt his head spin a little from even that tiny exertion. He turned to his dad, looking at the dark shadow of the angel's wings. The body of the man was healing quickly. Sam wanted to try to protect Dean from the angel, but he wasn't sure he had the strength. But the angel had saved them, so maybe they weren't on the angel's hit list to begin with.

The angel fluffed his wings and looked down at Dean. "You have done a great service for Humanity, and you show the capacity for true love and loyalty. When you are ready, if you choose and it is truly in your heart, you may ask for forgiveness for the evil you did in the service of Azazel. While I can not pretend to understand the will of God, I will speak on your behalf. I am only an angel, but I believe that there is a place in Heaven for your soul Dean Winchester." He gave a brief smile to Sam. "And yours as well."

His gaze broadened to take in both young men. "Incestuous relations are rarely approved of, but the demon blood has entangled your souls such that you are each part of the other. You have taken the evil of the tainted blood and turned it pure. This relationship will not condemn you to Hell." He returned his focus to Dean. "Chaining another's soul, whether by that soul's consent or not, will be looked upon…unfavorably. Choose your paths wisely. Redemption is possible, but will be hard won."

Turning to Jim, he gave the priest the mildest of glares. "I would suggest that spell finds its way to destruction. While a major battle was won today, it is not for Man to decide when such battles will be fought nor are angels meant to be at Man's beck and call."

Jim bowed his head. "Of course. I'll see that it's destroyed."

The angel gave a sharp nod. "This vessel has been healed but will need a great deal of rest to fully recover from recent events." He cast his gaze around to meet each man's eyes. "Do not call on me again."

White blinding light poured from John Winchester's mouth and disappeared in the sky overhead. The former vessel of the angel collapsed in a heap, unconscious.