IRDU LILI

"C'mon, Sammy, we gotta go. Help me out here, dude." Dean slapped his brother's face gently, trying to rouse the younger man to consciousness. "That thing's gonna come back, man. We gotta get you outta here."

Whatever the demon had used on his brother was not wearing off. "Son of a bitch," Dean sighed. "Can't believe I gotta carry your gigantic ass."

He maneuvered the taller man into a fireman's carry and headed out of the building. "How can someone who lives on salad be so damned heavy?"

He burst through the door, breathing a sigh of relief at the site of his baby gleaming in the light of a full moon. "Almost there, Sammy."

An inhuman roar preceded a deafening roll of thunder as lightning split the sky.

"Oh, shit. He's back."

Dean tried to run, the hair on the nape of his neck standing up.

Another boom and crack, and it felt like lighting scalded his ribs while a concussive force hurled both hunters into the Impala, shattering the passenger side windows and denting the front door.

The world spun. What the hell just happened? Dean fought to clear his head. Sammy. His brother had taken the brunt of their impact with the car. Baby. Dean rolled off Sam and tried to lever himself up, intent on getting his brother and himself into the Impala, away from the insanity that they'd fallen into. "Son of a bitch." A searing agony lanced through him, driving him back to the ground. His hand dropped to his side and his stomach lurched the way it did when he was in a plane that hit turbulence.

Something sharp was sticking out of him, and his hand was wet with blood. Oh, damn. This is not good. That thing is right behind us.

He quickly painted a banishing sigil on the side of his baby, constructed of his own blood, and slapped his palm into it.

The building behind them exploded in a flash of white.

Dean threw himself on top of Sam, crying out as whatever was impaling him caught in the material of his brother's coat.

Black clouds filled the sky, roiling like the malevolent force they were, lit from within by flashes of lightning.

Pain arced through him, and Dean struggled to think around it. Gotta get Sammy outta here. Dean pulled himself to a standing position but was unable to fully straighten. Jesus Christ, that hurts. He leaned his head against the car, willing the torment to a manageable level before opening the rear passenger door.

Gotta get Sam in there. A rush of despair washed through him - Can't do it. But there were no alternatives; if they didn't move, the demon-god-whatever-the-hell-it-was would kill them for sure. He took two panting breaths, bracing himself, then bent to lift his unresponsive brother by the armpits, levering the taller man's torso onto the backseat.

The effort was accompanied by a muted scream of anguish erupting through Dean's clenched teeth.

He staggered forward a step, trying to get his brother into the vehicle, but couldn't get Sam high enough to rest his hips on the seat. No! He tried to force his injured body to his will, but his legs gave out. He released his hold on Sam before his own knees hit the ground, hoping his brother would remain at least half inside. I can get a shoulder under his legs and push him up the rest of the way.

The older hunter nearly cried in frustration as he watched his brother slide to the ground, back braced against the car.

Dean pushed himself up to one knee, expression twisted into a desperate grimace, sweat coating his face. You can do this. Just breathe through it. He closed his eyes, trying to prepare his mind to ignore what he was about to feel, then leaned one shoulder into Sam to lift him into a semblance of a fireman's carry.

Fire shot through him and he screamed as he stood, fighting away the blackness chasing the brain-numbing torture emanating from his puncture wound. He was able to think enough to throw his left hand over Sammy's head before falling back with him into the Impala, and he shouted hoarsely as that motion drove the object deeper into his body.

He slid out along Sam's legs, hitting his knees hard on the muddy ground, catching himself with his palms as he vomited savagely between them.

The violent muscle contractions sent fresh hell through him, and he fell to his side, back arched, mouth open in a soundless scream, air having been torn from his chest.

On the rack, abdomen sliced open, Alistair pulling out shining loops of intestine, laughing as vomit geysers from Dean's throat.

The spasm released him and he sagged into the pooling rainwater, breath coming in sobbing gasps. Electric shocks of agony spread out from the wound, lancing into the left side of his chest, spreading out to the center of his abdomen, and shrieking their way down to his groin.

'S not Hell. 'S a parking lot. Monster, not Alistair.

He'd had a lot of injuries in his life, but nothing outside of Hell had come close to what he was feeling now. Not Alistair.

He wanted to hold himself as still as possible, let consciousness fade and fate do what it would. Can't move. 'S gonna hurt so bad. Jus' need to sleep a little bit.

If he'd been alone, that's exactly what he would have done. But he wasn't alone, so giving up wasn't an option. Can't let it get Sammy. Dean knew that the banishing spell wouldn't last long.

Not against a storm god.

He pushed up onto his knees, breathing erratic as he fought back inhuman sounds of torment. Gotta get Gigantor's stilts into the car, and he grimaced, nearly retching with pain, as he shuffled around on his knees until he was facing his baby.

He rested his forehead on Sam's leg long enough to get his breathing under control. Then he worked a shoulder under each of his brother's limbs, face twisted into an unconscious grimace. He wrapped his hands around Sam's thighs just above the knee and rested a minute, panting heavily.

Lightening strobed overhead.

Dean thrust with his legs, forcing Sam to slide up and into the seat, his own tormented roar lost in the bellow of thunder from an enraged deity.

He nearly fell on his brother, bracing himself with his right hand on the front seat at the last moment. He pushed his way out of the car, slipping in the mud, and ended back on his shins again.

Forced to his knees, Alistair's fist in his hair, one eye swollen shut and the other blurry, fist coming towards him -

"'S not Alistair." He was so far gone that he didn't even realize he'd spoken out loud.

Lightning lit his world again, and Dean fought his way to his feet, unaware of the pained groans escaping him. He closed the door and leaned heavily on the vehicle as he slid around to the driver's side, forcing that door open with difficulty. He lowered himself gently to his familiar home behind the wheel. The thing that had skewered him caught on the edge of the seat. His hoarse shout was clogged by the black liquid that spilled from his mouth.

He dropped his head to the steering wheel, sobbing in pain for the first time in a decade. "Cass! C-Cass! I -" he moaned, fingers pressing into the flesh near the wound in a vain attempt at alleviating the burn. "I need you." The words were a ragged whisper.

Thunder reverberated through him as he pulled his leg into the car, and he knew that the god was close. "Gotta get you outta here, Sammy." Catching the edge of the door with his foot, he drew it in so that he could close it without moving his torso.

His baby started on the first try, and he peeled away from the furious god, struggling to focus his vision through a blur of tears and rain.

The torment seemed to be spreading, now driving into his left shoulder and coursing down his left thigh to beat a pulse in his knee. "Cass, please," rasped in concert with the windshield wipers, a prayer that Dean was unaware he was making.

"Mother, we have to help him!" Zellynnexia was frantic.

"We can't, child! We cannot reveal ourselves to my father, especially in order to come to the aide of the creature he considers an abomination!"

"I have to, Mother! I can't let him die!"

"I forbid it!"

Zellynnexia sank to her knees, weeping.

His driving was erratic, speed inconsistent, and the heavy vehicle swerved randomly from one lane to the next.

On the rack, Alistair pacing, that sick smile on his face. "What shall we do next, Dean?"

"Doesn't matter. Cut off whatever you want, asshole. It'll all be back tomorrow."

"Oh, yes, it will, and that's my favorite part." He leaned in close, breath intimate against his captive's face. "I just keep getting to play with you, over…" he slid his blade along the skin of Dean's bare chest, opening a furrow that went down to bone, "and over…" a second incision paralleled the first, and Dean locked his throat against a hiss of agony, "and over again. Unless I decide I'm getting bored."

He slammed the knife forcefully into Dean's solar plexus, and his smile widened as blood almost immediately spilled from the former hunter's mouth.

With the taste of blood his vision cleared. Baby. Driving. But he was having a difficult time deciding which reality he belonged to.

Flat on his back, tied spread-eagled. Nude. Always nude, and after so many years, he's gotten used to it. Burning, screaming agony in his left side, and he looks down to see a Hellhound crouched there, maw dripping gore. It plants a heavy, clawed foot on his shoulder, pressing down. Dean feels the bones separate before they fracture, and no matter how hard he tries not to, he can't stop himself from screaming.

His agonized howl brought Cass. "Dean!" The angel had appeared at his friend's side, face etched deeply with concern.

Cass. Not Hell. Cass is here.

"S- Sam. Check on - " Dean groaned. "Sam. 'S a god."

Cass leaned quickly into the rear compartment of the vehicle, knowing that if he didn't put his friend's mind at ease, Dean would likely do himself more harm in his quest to ensure that Sam was taken care of.

The younger hunter was unconscious. Cass touched two fingers to the man's forehead, and was rewarded with a slow-blinking return to awareness and a look of extreme confusion. "Cass? Where…?"

"Impala". The worried angel's response was terse. "Dean's hurt."

"S - Sam…."

Sam jerked upright, face alarmed. "Dean! Pull over! You're going to kill us!"

A blast of lightning illuminated three stark faces as a roll of thunder rattled what was left of the windows.

Sam was on the rack across from him, Alistair poised between the two brothers, and his smile was poisonous. "Which will it be, Dean? You, or Sam?"

"Don't touch him! Don't you fucking touch my brother!"

Alistair chuckled. "I knew you'd say that." Instantly four demons surrounded Dean, each snarling with malicious intent.

As if to confirm Sam's statement, Dean suddenly bellowed, an agonized, primal sound reminiscent of his death by Hellhound.

"Dean!" Sam reached over him to grab the wheel as Dean's body arched back in a convulsion that forced both feet into the floorboards, throwing the heavy vehicle into an uncontrolled acceleration. "Cass! Do something!"

"No! Stop!" A woman had appeared in the almost non-existent space between the angel and his tortured friend. "Just wait!"

She turned, placing one hand on Dean's forehead, the other on his abdomen. He immediately went limp, though his eyes remained open to slits and his breath could be heard escaping in desperate gasps.

She looked over the seat at Sam. "You have to get him away from the storm." Then she turned back to Castiel, fingertips grazing over his jaw in a gentle caress that belied her harsh tone: "Don't touch him!"

And she was gone.

"What the hell?" But the majority of Sam's attention was focused on steering a thirty-five hundred pound vehicle from the back seat. He had nothing left to devote to the enigma of the disappearing woman. "Dean! Dean! Can you hear me?"

A groan that vaguely resembled his name issued from the limp form in the front seat.

"We need to get you out of the driver's seat, alright? Take your foot off the gas."

Dean's breathing picked up and he moaned softly with the movement, but his leg shifted and the car began to slow.

"I know you're hurt and it's a lot to ask, but could you manage the brake for us?"

"Yeah." The grunted syllable sounded like it had been dragged over charred glass.

"Cass, be ready to put it in park."

"Yes, Sam."

Dean held his breath, biting his lip as he lifted his foot enough to make contact with the brake pedal, then pressed down.

Sam steered them onto the gravel shoulder. "Now, Cass."

The car jolted to a halt and Sam was out the door, yanking Dean's open, catching the injured man as he listed out into the night.

"Easy, buddy, easy!"

"Sammy." The word was a tortured whiimper.

"I gotcha, Dean. Let's get you into the back so we can get out of here, get you some help. Okay?" He squatted low to work his shoulder beneath his brother's.

"Jus' lea' me, Sam."

"Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen. Let's go." He stood, carefully drawing Dean out with him.

Dean grunted softly, face locked in a grimace. "You...gotta go...Sam."

"Shut up, jerk. Just gotta get you into the backseat," Sam huffed. He threaded Dean's left arm over his shoulders, gripping Dean's wrist with his left hand. He snaked his right behind the other man with the intent of slipping his fingers beneath his brother's belt.

His arm grazed something sharp, and Dean gave a wordless shout of pain.

"Jesus! I'm sorry, Dean!"

"Don't touch it," he moaned. "Please, don't touch it."

"I won't. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was there."

Dean was nearly a dead weight as Sam worked to get him transferred to the back seat. "Lift your leg in, and you can lay down on your side."

Dean grunted as he struggled to comply.

Sam eased him down onto his right hip, untangling himself from his brother's grasp, lowering the injured man gently onto his right side. "Brace yourself with your arm so you don't roll onto that thing," he directed, placing Dean's left hand on the edge of the seat. Sam removed his coat and rolled it, tucking it behind his brother's back. "That should keep the thing from touching the seat, but we gotta get you the rest of the way in." He hurried around to the other side, leaned in, and gripped the shoulders of his brother's coat. "This will probably hurt, but it will be over quick."

"He's comin', Sam," Dean groaned, and Sam heard a low rumble of thunder.

"Shit. Hang on." He tugged, sliding his brother along the seat to the accompaniment of a strangled cry. "Cass! Close the door!"

Without thinking, Cass lifted Dean's boot to push it into the vehicle.

An explosion rocked the car. Sam and Cass were both thrown back, landing stunned on the ground, while Dean's body went rigid, mouth stretched in a silent howl.

Sam shook his head, clearing away confusion as he struggled to his feet. "Dean!" As he watched, the contraction locking his brother in a pained rigor released its hold, and Dean curled forward, vomiting black fluid onto the floor.

"Cass!" Sam leaned on the roof of the car, noting with relief that the angel had already regained his feet and was shaking the grit from his coat. "You need to drive!" He ducked low, lifting Dean's shoulders carefully to ease his own legs beneath his brother. "I got you, Dean. You're going to be okay."

He cradled his brother's sweat-damped head, feeling the tremors coursing through the man's body, and hoped he wasn't lying.