War in Purgatory. It had started in seconds. And it had started because of him.

The one thing that should never be in a world of the dead, the undead and everything in between.

A living, human soul.

"Dean!"

His body convulsed as the bone snapped back into place. He screamed. He couldn't contain it any longer- none of it. The running, the exhaustion, the starvation and when he collapsed back into the dry dirt of the cavern, his body didn't stop shaking, vain tears slid from his eyes and streaked through crusted sweat.

"Hey, stay with me kid." The colourless face swam in his vision, a cold hand fell to his heated forehead but the leak of tears didn't let up.

"I can't do it, Bobby." He grabbed hold of that old worn plaid shirt that had followed the ghost of his friend even here.

"You just have to hold on. Sam will find a way to pull you back and you know it."

"Bullshit!" He held Bobby even tighter. "I'm going to die here."

"And if you let that happen, then you really will be stuck here forever, Dean. Now buck up! I'll be damned if I watch you turn into a monster too."

A monster. After all those years of fighting the things that go bump in the night, Bobby had ended up as one of them. Just barely slipping into the realm of vengeful spirits had apparently been enough to warrant Bobby Singer an eternity in Purgatory. If Dean had known that, he would never have burned that flask.

He let his fingers slide from that comforting fabric to the dusty cave bottom and tried to raise his head up to look down his body. He just gasped out in further pain and dropped his head back none to gently, letting it roll to one side, away from those dead but judgemental eyes.

"They broke my fucking leg, Bobby. I'm literally done running."

They'd done more than that to him. The monsters of Purgatory had run him ragged through that forest of eternal night until he'd stumbled into a desert of endless light. Finally he'd collapsed in this in-between realm of stoney dry earth and grey light. With his own blood he'd managed to smear enough symbols on the walls to keep himself protected from the things he knew about. The trouble was, this world was teaming with things he didn't know about, things he could not protect himself from.

It had been one of those things that had just got a hold of him while he made a break for water. He hadn't even really seen it, just a blur of grey skin and green eyes. It had gone for his leg on purpose, it had wanted to immobilize him. The old break from the leviathan had made the job easier for it too. The bone was weaker and gave when it had struck him.

It was a growing trend in his attackers- to wound rather than kill. It was much more disturbing than it was a comfort. They all wanted him. The last human. Ghouls wanted him to eat. Vamps to drink. Almost any creature in this realm had a taste for living flesh and the motivation that he could make them stronger than their rivals. And that was why as much as he was a target, so was everything else. Competition. They all wanted him, and the only reason they didn't already have him, was because they couldn't stop fighting themselves long enough to make a concentrated effort on capturing him.

But when the cold hand ran through his hair and down his back before hoisting him up into a sitting position, he realized there were two other reasons he was still not captured: a ghost who had found him within hours of his arrival, and an angel who, when it suited him, would show up with food, or water, or garbled information that might just save his life.

"I'm sorry Bobby." Dean swallowed back the despair as he leaned against his old friend. It was still an unsettling feeling, having those dead hands around him, feeling no breath or beat of heart when his head leaned against his chest.

Ghosts were not the wispy ephemeral creatures they were on Earth. Why should they be here? They were solid corpses, could even bleed, but were still very capable of phasing in and out at will. Bobby had taken strides in developing his after-life powers, but they were barely enough to fight off individual creatures that made an attempt to get Dean. If anything ever made a consolidated effort, Bobby would not be able to stop them, and in fact, might even be destroyed by them as well.

Neither Dean nor Bobby were very sure on how things worked here. Bobby had barely crossed over himself before he felt the rippled in the atmosphere that had alerted the entire world that Dean Winchester had arrived.

And since then they'd been too busy running to stop and ask questions.

"Hey Bobby? Do you think my mom is here? Or my dad?" He breathed into the other's chest while Bobby worked at pulling his jacket off. He must have noticed the red stain bleeding through near his ribs.

"Dammit Dean, why didn't you say anything?" The ghost muttered when he lifted his shirt and saw the deep tears in his skin surrounded by purple bruising.

"Bobby? Do you think they're here?"

"No. Or they would have come running like I did."

"Unless they don't remember. Maybe being here makes you forget."

"Thanks, that's a cheery thought."

"Sorry."

"Listen, Dean, the ghosts here don't like that I've branched out in the friend department, it's why they keep pulling my soul back to them. It's getting harder to resist."

"I know." He grunted when Bobby lay him back down, the dirt cold against his bare back. Bobby sparingly poured a brown liquid from a flask onto the wound. It was one of the many things Cas had brought to the cave with the promise that it would sterilize cuts. He had not offered any explanation as to where it came from or what it was before disappearing again.

"What I'm trying to say, is one of these times those bastards might trap me for good."

"You can't let them."

"It ain't that simple."
"Make it that simple." Dean had no idea what happened to Bobby every time a cold wind blew over them and his friend was simply gone. All he knew was that the ghosts of Purgatory kept to themselves and wanted to keep it that way. After a couple of days, though, Bobby would make his way back to Dean. That's how Dean had gotten hurt this time. Bobby had been gone for three days, and just got back in time to throw that thing off of him and haul him back in here.

"Have you seen Cas since I was gone?" Bobby asked to change the subject.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He brought me a sandwich. I have no idea what was in it."

"Did you eat it?"

"Yeah I was friggin' starving."

"Did he say anything?"

Dean turned quiet.

"What is it, Dean?"

"You're gonna kill me."
"What?"
"I tried to zap him back."

"WHAT?"

"I got thinking about it when you were gone. I thought that I'm probably going to die here and be no good to anyone, so why leave that poor son of a bitch here to suffer. I figured if I used the blood sigil, he'd zap back to heaven and be out of here."

"And? Did it work?"

"Nothing. Same reason he says he can't heal me, he's cut off from Heaven here."

"And yet he can still zap in and out of here whenever he wants."

"Yeah."

"I don't care how marbles he is, he should be here helping us."
Bobby finished patching up the wound. At least Cas had left them some clothe for just such a purpose. Then he pulled Dean up again and redressed him. The young man was practically limp now, the pain in his leg and toll on his body was too much.

"I gotta make you a splint or something." He muttered, but Dean was already passed out.


"Is he alive?"

"Must be if that ghost was so intent on protecting him. Check him."

Hazel eyes flew wide as hot pain dragged down his arm. Dean jerked awake, disorientation and the fog of a fever keeping him from making sense of the scene for several long seconds.

"Mmm, a bit overcooked but that shouldn't matter. He's still delicious."

Dean recoiled when he finally saw the three females crouched over him. He couldn't identify their species right away but they looked human enough to him, even if they stood low and crouched, their bodies barely covered by the crudest of means and their dark, knotted hair more like a horse's mane than a pony's tail.

The one closest to him was licking thick crimson from her fingers and Dean just now saw the stream of blood down his arm. They'd cut him open for a taste.

"Bitch." He tried to shift back but she grabbed his arm and held it up to her mouth, sucking on the open wound. "Get off of me!" But any struggle he put up was in vain and when one stomped down on his broken leg he screamed out and saw flashes of white on black.

"Hey! Save some for me!" His arm was let go for a second before grabbed fiercely by another.

"Screw that!" The two fell into one another in a violent scrambled. Dean did his best to roll onto his side and move toward the cave entrance.

"I don't think so." The third grabbed his collar and halted his movement. "No, you're my dinner, I'm not letting you go anywhere."

"Fuck you."
His face slammed into the dirt. He felt more blood seep out of him from his nose. There was a sickening crunch behind him. One of the three were dead- their feud over him a microcosm of the war he'd caused between the races in all of Purgatory.

"Idiot. You killed one of your own." The she-creature above him hissed and the weight at his back lifted. At once began crawling forward on his stomach, as desperate and pathetic as it may have looked. There was a second horrible crack and then the hand was on his back and rolling him over despite his cry of pain.

"Well, at least I have you all to myself now. Let's see how you taste."

Rather than going for one of the wounds he already had, she opened a mouth of sharp teeth and leaned over his thigh. She wasn't just going to take his blood, she was going to take a bite. He braced himself but before sharp ivory cut flesh, a cold voice unexpectedly stopped her.

"Don't you dare spill another drop of his precious blood."

Dean's breath caught, the faint light that entered his cave was blocked by several more figures, these ones calm faced, clean dressed, but stopped at the very edge of his cave. They must be one of the creatures he had used protection against. A moment later, he had his answer.

"Ha! Stupid Vampires, you can't get in here." The beast above him cackled, though she crouched even lower, her back arching as if ready to pounce. Dead Man's blood. Dean hadn't been sure when he'd cut open Bobby's arm and buried the ghostly blood at the cave entrance that it would make any difference. He still wasn't sure it would, but the Vamps were stopped dead the cave mouth.

"No. But the human can get out." One answered calmly. Back-lit by the constant low-light and in contrast to the darkness of the cave, Dean could make out very little of his features other than a stern gaze and dark skin.

The creature's grip on him tightened. "He's not going anywhere. He's mine to eat."

"Oh, I beg to differ." The leader of the group answered calmly. He leaned as close as he could get and smiled gently down at Dean. "See, this bitch here, she's going to eat you, Mr. Winchester, while you're still alive. But us, we have no desire for such disgusting acts. We're going to save you. We're going to keep you alive, take what blood we need when you can spare it, but I assure you, we will keep you virtually unharmed. And even if you don't believe us, if we chose to suck you dry right now—well that would be a much less painful death than being her chew toy, no?"
"Well you can't get in here!" She hissed out.

"But he can get out." He repeated.

"Screw you!" She bent her head and sharp pain lanced through Dean's leg. He tried to shove her off but she bit deeper, preparing to tear away a thick chunk of his flesh.

But his scream died in his throat when she jerked back, a heavy stone striking her in the head. She wasn't out, but stunned. He watched her try to right herself, his blood staining her lips.

"Now, Mr. Winchester, if you want to save yourself, give me your hand."

He was close enough that he could reach back across his line of protection, give them his hand so they could drag him out. But then he'd just be escaping one monster for another, a coward's choice.

"Fuck you."

"It's your choice, Dean, but remaining in there is certain death. At least like this, there is a chance you will live."

"No..." He moaned out, consciousness threatening to slip away again. "No, I won't be your juice box."

"But you'll be her lunch."

She was up again, launching herself on him. He wasn't sure if it was the instant of pain against his collar when those teeth bit down to the bone that made him do it. He couldn't tell if it was desperation to escape that pain, or if it was desperation to live, but his hand flew back and strong ones took a hold.

He was drug out of the cave and dropped for the moment, the group whirling on the beast that had been gnawing on him. The moment she was pulled clear, Dean clutched at his neck to try and slow the bleeding. She'd torn the thin layer of flesh and muscle that ran over his collar bone- it could have been much worse but it was little consolation when he was laying in the dirt, his body aflame with fever but shuddering from the chill of too-empty veins and above him monsters fought to decide who would get to indulge in his life source or his flesh.

"Shit." Someone dropped to his side, their pale hand replacing his own. "He's not looking too good!"

There was no sign of the other creature, she must be dead, if one could actually die in this place. More of them closed in on him, hands pressed into the wound on his thigh and the faintest of moans escaped him. The world was darkening around him, let them drink him dry, he thought as his body lurched in uncontrolled spasms and tremors. Things were shutting down and he let his head fall to the side, stare out on the dark forest in the horizon. He thought for a brief moment he saw a man in a pale trench coat but the image blurred to incoherence and he let it all fade away.


Sam watched the long, pale faced man before him unwrap the wax paper around his hamburger and bit into the juicy warm meat. If he were one to show emotion, he would certainly have sighed with satisfaction or smiled around the tomato and lettuce in pleasure. But he was not one to display any such emotion. He was Death.

"So," he finally spoke to the worn young man sitting across from him. "Your brother managed to get himself trapped in Purgatory."

"Yes."

"You realize he was most likely ripped to shreds the moment he arrived."

Sam ran a hair though his not so clean brown locks in frustration. Death had listened to his story, which he no doubt already knew, in quiet contemplation, and he knew very well the Horseman had already come to his conclusion on whether or not he could or would help. But pissing him off by pressing for an answer would do no good, so he clenched his teeth and appeased him.

"Yes. But Castiel went with him."

"And so did the Leviathan who called himself Dick Roman. And every other creature that's not a demon or a human that you've killed, has also gone there."

"Okay fine, but you are Death, King of the Reapers, so tell me, did they get him? Is Dean dead?"

The pale horseman wiped the ketchup from his lips with a yellow napkin and set it down.

"Ah, so you do remember my official title. Maybe then you will understand why I am a very busy man and can't come running every single time you Winchesters have a crisis."

This was too much, Sam shoved his chair back and rose. "DAMMIT is he still alive?"

"Yes." He almost missed the quiet word. "And no."

"What does that mean?"
"He is beyond the reach of a reaper. If he dies in Purgatory, he will have no choice but to become a ghost. It is a closed world, no way to Hell, Heaven or Earth. If his mortal form is killed, his soul will remain there."

"So you don't even know."

"Not for certain. But you Winchesters have twisted the fate of your fragile human lives into the workings of the whole universe. If he were to die, then I believe, even if in Purgatory, I would be aware of it."

Sam let out a breath and eased himself back into the chair. "Good."

"Though I find it quite amazing that the Leviathan have not found him to exact their revenge. Or, perhaps they have."

Torture. Yes, Sam had already thought of that as well, but still, after seven weeks, he was sure they would have killed him if they had him.

"Unless," Death continued, "anything in Purgatory with half a brain would realize keeping Dean alive is in their best interest."

"What?"

"Well, when have either of you just left the other to rot?"

Sam wanted to argue that Dean, had in fact left him in the Pit with Lucifer as per his promise, but he let that go.

"You mean they think I'll open Purgatory and they can hitch a ride back with him."

"Most likely. If the Leviathan don't have him, then that is certainly the reason they have left him alone."

The thought both disturbed Sam, and gave him hope that Dean stood a chance.

"So the question is." Death set both hands on the table and stared across at Sam. "Will you do it? Will you open Purgatory and put this world at risk after you just saved it to pull back one, human soul?"
"Is it possible? Could I open the doorway like Cas did, in the lunar eclipse and everything?"

"No, not like the angel and the demon. They intended to harness the power of all those souls, of Purgatory and if you were to try and cast it, I would have no choice but to destroy you. But to pull out just one soul, or two, that's a different magic entirely."

"Like the Dragons did to Eve?"

"No, Sam. In order to get one soul back, they sent one soul through- you remember that virgin Eve possessed. Eve was a soul that needed a mortal form, your brother still has his mortal form, you would need a different spell."

"So a way does exist?"
"But not a way to prevent creatures like the Leviathan following him back. No spell is so exact you could be guaranteed to only bring back one man and one angel."

"What do I have to do?"

"Oh, I have not said that I would help yet."

"What?"

"The only reason I met with you today was to see how you intended to rip this world apart—again. There is only one way to do this safely, and you will not like it."

"What?"

"Sending someone through to Purgatory is much easier."

"What? Why would that help?"

"It would put Dean's soul in the right place. A reaper could go through, and send his soul to the proper afterlife, once he was dead."

"What? That's not an option."

"It is, you just don't like it."

"If you aren't going to help me, then I am wasting my time here."

"Sam." He stopped and watched the king of the reapers. "I have not said I will not help. But there is much to consider. The Leviathan have left their mark on this world and the so called King of Hell has not helped in restoring it. Before I chose whether or not to act, many balances must be considered, many scales weighed."

"Then when will you have an answer for me?"

He rose, taking hold of his slender cane, "I believe the saying goes, don't call me, I'll call you."

In the blink of an eye, Sam was alone in the diner. He heaved a sigh and headed out the door to the last piece of family he had left, falling heavily into the seat of the Impala.

"Alright," he sighed to the dashboard, not able to call the car 'baby' with the same ring of sincerity that his brother did, "Crowley said we're alone, well, let's prove him wrong. Let's go home."


Hi there! This is my first publication in the Supernatural universe. I wrote this because I had a few predictions about how Dean might survive and be brought back, so I spun that into a story that I rather like! I hope you do too! Look for more soon! Thanks.

Riza.