A Time to Collect

It was the usual scenario for the Winchesters, a dingy motel room in a small, Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. They had defeated yet another demon with the help of Bobby and were enjoying their victory. Bobby had gone to his room to cash in for the night, mumbling something about being too old to be tossed into walls. Dean and Sam could only smile at their friend as they, too, headed for their room. They were both grateful at having Bobby by their side in the fight. Bobby often got intelligence of demon activity through his fellow hunters, but he had been more than just another hunter to the brothers. As Dean's year started counting down quickly to a matter of a few months, both of them had found fatherly solace at having Bobby close. For Sam, it was the encouragement Bobby gave him to keep trying to find a way out for Dean no matter how dark the prospects became the more the year dwindled. Sam couldn't face a calendar without feeling his throat and chest constrict. Bobby would be realistic, but hopeful as he assisted Sam as much as he could.

For Dean, Bobby had become like a father. Someone he could drop his walls down for just a little while to confide how worried he was about Sam and to ask Bobby to watch out for him after he was gone, knowing he would keep his word. Though Bobby would light-heartedly tell Dean that he wasn't going anywhere, that there was still time to find something, they would exchange knowing glances that would speak volumes and of the truth facing them. Bobby wasn't a fool and Dean had appreciated that he had never pulled any punches. When the time came, he would be exactly what Sam would need. Dean was comforted by the thought that some semblance of family would be there for Sam.

Sam lay on his bed, physically exhausted, but unable to sleep. Sleep had become more and more elusive as the days ticked down. A part of it was the need to think of something else to look up in Bobby's books or to agonize over something he must have missed in his research, but most of it was fearing that he would fall asleep one day and wake up to find Dean gone. It was a fear that always brought a chill. It was unimaginable yet he knew it would be inevitable unless he could find a way to save him.

Dean was too pumped up with adrenaline from the fight to sleep. He needed to gear down so he assembled the weapons and began readying them for the next battle. Disassembling them, cleaning them, and reloading them were instinct for Dean and the concentration relaxed him. He enjoyed feeling his hands move quickly over the weapons. It gave him confidence to have his skills reassured, especially these days. Every move had always meant the difference between life and death, but, for Dean, death had taken on a whole new meaning for him and for Sam.

As he reached over the table to get one of the salt guns, he was suddenly assaulted by pain. It was so intense that Dean doubled over, his eyes reflecting surprise and uncertainty. Sam watched in shock and rushed over to help him onto the bed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Don't…know…" Dean choked out as another violent stab of pain hit, driving him to his knees.

It was then that the motel room door flew open from a fierce wind and a man, seemingly taller than Sam, stood in the doorway.

Sam tried to reach for the salt gun, but was slapped aside as if he were a fly.

"Leave…him…alone!" Dean barked out as authoritatively as he could, his protective instincts kicking in.

"It's time, Dean. It's time for me to collect."

"W…What?"

"Your contract. It's mine. Your soul belongs to me and I've come to collect."

"No! No! It's not time, his year isn't up!" Sam protested.

"Foolish young man, that's just a guideline. I can collect anytime I choose," the evil voice laughed. "And I choose now."

"Why? Why now?"

"Sam, s…stop," Dean said, understanding this wasn't something you pissed off.

Dean exerted as much control and stealth as he could over the pain as he pulled off his amulet and snuck it onto the night table. Both Sam and the demon unaware of what he had done.

"I don't need a reason. Call me mercurial," it taunted.

"Why Dean?" Sam asked, continuing to tempt its mood. "Why do you want him so bad?"

"Why? Isn't it obvious?"

Both brothers fell silent, having no answers.

A flash of bright light filled the room, blinding them both. The next thing they knew, they were in some kind of cave or darkened room.

Dean was lying on the floor, the pain felt lessened, but it wasn't completely gone. He was breathing raggedly.

"Sam?" He called out in the semi-darkness, hoping to hear silence and that he had been taken to Hell alone, that Sam had been safely left behind.

"Dean?"

Dean's heart sank. He had never wanted to drag Sam down with him.

"You okay?"

"Yeh, yeh, I'm fine. How about you?"

"I'm just peachy," Dean responded with his classic sarcastic bite.

Just then, torches from all around the room flicked on as if by some kind of evil magic trick. Sam spotted Dean on the ground and went towards him. He lifted him to a sitting position, Dean grimacing all the while.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You are in a netherworld between life and death, Heaven and Hell and yet, not quite purgatory either. It's my world, my dominion."

"Let Sam go! He wasn't a part of the deal!!!!" Dean shouted, the full strength of the bass timbre in his voice echoing in the room.

"Oh, I beg to differ. The deal was all about Sam. Don't worry, I'll let him go, but not until I've had my fun. Both the Winchester brothers. Quite a coup, I must say."

"So help me, I will kill you if you hurt him. I'll find a freakin' way to track you down in Hell and kill you if anything happens to him!" Dean breathed heavily, but never losing the conviction behind each word.

Something then shifted quickly into the room, shoved Sam out of the way and pinned Dean against the wall. The figure was dressed in a black shroud. Its face covered in shadow, its form hidden in the folds of the fabric, but its red eyes glowed from within. All Dean could think of was that it reminded him of a creepy, demonic version of the Jawas in Star Wars.

"NO!" Sam yelled as he regained his composure and started towards the demon, but without lifting a finger, it tossed Sam against the opposite wall and held him there.

"Patience, Sam. It's not one of your strong points. You are your father's son. You have much to learn about your brother here and I intend to be your teacher. Only after you have learned your lessons well will I let you go."

The hooded figure then released Dean just long enough to put shackles on his wrists with lightening speed, too fast for Dean to even attempt escape. It then backed away and laughed.

"The legendary Winchesters. One was chosen to be king, to become the leader of the demon army then refused the honor. The other, well, in our world, he is called the scourge of our kind. It will be a pleasure to remove his soul from the Earth and Heavens. I'll be hailed and perhaps it will be I, who will lead the army towards humanity's destruction."

"Is that what this is? A power play? A demon's version of The Apprentice? Take me out and you become the grand poobah of the demons?" Dean taunted. "Well, you're giving me WAY too much credit. I'm not that important of a player in this war. You're just taking out one soldier in it. There are plenty more where I came from and they'll finish what I couldn't."

The demon laughed low and menacing.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?" Dean scoffed.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that no one's told you, after all, if you did know…well, that's not important now. You think you're insignificant. Azazel made the mistake of underestimating you, but I won't. He was right about one thing though. You do have a self-sacrificing streak in you that borders on self-loathing. Shouldn't complain, I suppose. It's done us well. Taking your soul will be all the more satisfying knowing you care so little for it, so much so, that you'd throw it away to save your brother."

"Shut up!" Dean shouted.

"Oh, I've only just begun," the demon laughed again.

It then walked over to where Sam was lying on the floor, frozen and immobile. Sam allowed a fleeting humorous thought to run through his mind about how he was getting tired of being pinned against things, but then just watched stoically as it approached him. Dean struggled against his bonds when he saw it move toward Sam, but he knew he was helpless to do anything. His inner protectiveness screaming that he had to help Sam, but the reality of his bondage suffocating the sound.

"Get away from him!" Dean yelled.

"And you, Sam. Have you no gratitude for being brought back from the dead? You can't deny feeling the change coming over you. What you did to that hunter months ago? You can't possibly believe you did that with just human strength, do you? No, you came back evolved and that power has yet to be tapped fully. I may get the privilege to strike the first match to ignite it."

"I'll never be one of you!" Sam defied.

"Oh, my boy, you will have no choice."

The demon walked back towards Dean and without touching him, ripped the front of his many layers of shirts open to reveal bare flesh, Dean's breathing accelerated in anticipation of something horrendous coming next.

"What? Get your kicks from ripping clothes off? First bondage? Now this? Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't swing that way."

The demon acted as if it didn't even hear Dean. It placed a hand on Dean's chest and energy flowed between them. Dean screamed. It was blood curdling and Sam could only watch in horror and dismay. Sam had never heard Dean scream like that. Hell, he had never heard Dean scream. Even when the yellow-eyed demon was torturing him, cutting him from the inside out, Dean had barely cried out, but that had been a whimper compared to the long, gut wrenching scream Sam heard now.

"STOP!!!!" Sam yelled.

Dean's hands fisted and opened as his body stiffened and writhed in pain, his breathing shallow and struggling.

Finally, after what seemed like hours later, the demon released him. Dean fell limp, but unconsciousness would not come to relieve him and he moaned low and coughed. The demon turned to Sam and again, laughed low.

"Your brother doesn't know, does he, Sam? You've been keeping secrets from him, haven't you?"

"Leave…him…alone…" Dean coughed and breathed out.

"He doesn't know that as a baby, Azazel fed you his blood. It was that your mother interrupted and had paid with her life, protecting you, trying to save you. Seems like everyone is doing that, aren't they? They must really value you and your life to risk everything, their own lives, their own souls to make sure you survived. Little do they know what they've been protecting. Still, your father knew what you were or maybe, to be fair, what you would become. He gave up his own life to give life to your brother and neither of you even asked why. Oh, Dean wallowed in self-pity, feeling that he didn't deserve to be brought back, but not why your father chose to save him instead of protecting you himself."

Sam's face first betrayed fear at the demon's revelations that he had kept secrets from Dean. He worried that he would go to Hell hating him, giving him more reasons to feel undeserved. He wondered what Dean thought, but when he looked over at him, Dean didn't betray anything other than defiance.

The demon walked back to Dean and with a clawed finger, scraped it across Dean' chest, causing a blood trail. Dean bit back a grunt and clenched his eyes closed.

"Go…to…Hell," Dean said, knowing he was stating the obvious, but unable to come up with anything cleverer, something completely unlike him.

"Oh, I'll be there and so will you soon, but not yet. I've got lots to do before we start the clock towards eternity," the demon taunted. "So where was I? Oh, yes, why dear daddy saved you…"

Dean wished he could stop hearing. He didn't want to listen to the demon tell him things that he didn't want to know or didn't care to know though he knew that it was all a part of being in Hell. What better way to torture him than to have him relive every failure over and over again, to remind him of all the lives he didn't save and should have saved? He was sure there would be more where that came from so he'd better get used to it. Still, the past was all water under the bridge for him now. It didn't matter anymore why their dad had sacrificed himself to save him. He didn't care whether Sam had been fed the demon's blood or not. Sam had been a baby, it's not like he could have stopped it so it wasn't his fault and as for their mom, well, she did what any mother would have done. She had loved her son, had tried to save him and had lost her life in the trying. He knew she couldn't have done anything less just like he couldn't have. As for Sam, he knew in his heart that Sam would defeat whatever would come his way. Their father had taught them both well. He also hoped that Sam had benefited from the time they had spent together these past few months and would use the memories to strengthen him. Dean's only regret was that he wouldn't be side by side with his little brother, fighting the good fight ever again.

"I…don't…give a rat's ass why so you can just save it!" Dean said angrily.

The demon came over to Dean again and its claw had become a hand again, but instead of placing it on Dean's chest, he plunged it into Dean and again, a scream Dean couldn't suppress came from his throat.

"Dean! No!" Sam cried out, knowing he was helpless brought him close to tears at hearing Dean suffer because of the deal he had made for him, to save him.

"Such a mouth on you. We're going to have to work on that."

Dean, through pain and heavy breathing, managed a wide grin.

"You give it…your best shot," Dean said as he laughed, a cross between a whimper and a raspy cough. "Better monsters…than you…have tried…and I killed them…"

The demon removed his hand. Dean arched and moaned with the pain then went limp again, but blissful unconsciousness was still elusive.

"You are strong. I have not felt such a defiant soul as yours and yet you still don't believe yourself important in this war."

Dean was too tired to respond back, but he wasn't going to give the demon anything. He just sneered.

"Your father was wise and dangerous. He knew that saving you would be Sam's best chance at survival. He knew of your strength and power."

Dean could only breathe. He had been gutted by pain and exhaustion. The demon then turned towards Sam.

"You, too, are strong, but your power has yet to be realized and without your brother to keep you grounded, you will immerse yourself in vengeance as you almost did when you lost your girlfriend Jessica."

"I will never become like you."

"I hardly expect you to aspire to be as great as I am, but you will be powerful, make no mistake about that."

The demon laughed again as if enjoying how it was toying with the brothers.

"Did you know, Sam, that Dean here wanted to go to college?"

"SHUT UP!" Dean yelled, finding some strength, but paid the price with a wave of pain that rattled his body, causing him to arch against the wall and moan breathlessly. "Don't…believe anything…this bastard tells you, Sam. Demons lie."

"Like Casey told you, Dean, some do lie, but some are true believers and I am one of them. I have no reason to lie, in fact, the truth is much more painful than lies ever could be. It can inflict suffering like nothing else. It leaves a satisfying taste that I've become addicted to and desire more of."

The demon approached Sam.

"He was thinking about becoming a fireman, you know, but he knew he could never be one because he was too busy keeping you and your father in line. He knew he couldn't leave the two of you alone for a minute before you'd start fighting and breaking apart and he couldn't let his family fall apart. So he let go of his hopes of ever leaving hunting or more accurately, his job, protecting you. He told you how tired he was…he is, Sam. Tired of playing peace keeper, tired of fighting a war he doesn't really believe any of you can win, but he still fights because it's what he knows, because he does believe in you, misguided as that belief is, and he wants to leave the world better for you so that you'll never have to face the same choices that he did. It's too bad he didn't think much of himself because without him, the world will be destroyed and I'll get to take the credit."

"I said SHUT UP!" Dean yelled, causing more pain to rack his body again.

Sam's eyes glimmered and try as he might to deny the demon's words he knew they were all true.

"You see, that's why your father sacrificed himself. He knew that without Dean, you and he would have battled each other instead of the demons. The grief you would have felt over losing Dean and being left with your father would have driven you to madness. He knew he could never give you what you needed. He knew that only Dean could. That madness would have eventually destroyed you and would have given life to the demon in you. Your father would have had to kill you to stop you. Instead, he gave life back to your brother in the hopes that he'd save you then burdened him with the responsibility of killing you if he failed. Seems a bit cowardly to me."

Sam stared wide-eyed at the demon, unable to form any words to deny what it was saying. Much as he loved their father, the real truth was that a part of him had resented him from the moment he had been thrust into the hunting world by him. Losing Dean would have driven them apart. They were too much alike.

"No, Sam. Don't believe this thing. Dad would never have done that," Dean pleaded, trying to reach out to Sam.

Sam looked over at Dean, saw the pain lining his face and could only give him understanding.

"Yeh, he would have and he would have been right…He was right, Dean. As much I loved Dad, deep down, I hated him too for what he did to both of us, and honestly? Mostly I hated him for dragging me into his crusade. I never wanted any of this. We would have been at each other's throats without you there."

"It's okay, Sam. You don't have to do the life anymore. You can finally walk away," Dean tried to assure.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Dean. Once I let Sam go, you won't be there for him anymore and he won't have you to stop him."

"He won't NEED me to stop him because he can stop himself. He's a lot stronger than me. He's always been stronger than me," Dean insisted, regaining some of his strength.

"Not without you. You'd like to believe that Sam can go it alone. There goes that misguided faith of yours again, but he can't. He never could have. You will live your existence in Hell wondering what kind of monster your brother has become because of your selfish act to bring him back. Or, maybe you'll get to see it for yourself when we're freed from Hell by his hand."

Dean's face struggled to maintain its certainty against the demon's words, but he couldn't stop the worry from penetrating his heart. It wasn't Sam, he was doubting, just the influences when Sam would be vulnerable.

"No, I don't believe you. Bobby will protect him. He loves him like a son. He'll stop him."

"Did he stop you?"

"What?" Dean said with surprise.

"Did Bobby stop you?"

"That was different."

"Maybe a better question would be could he have stopped you?"

Dean blinked and felt a chill wash over him. He shuddered.

"I think we all know the answer to that one, don't we?"

"Okay, you've had your jollies, now let Sam go," Dean skirted.

"Not yet. Sam needs to hear more. He needs to understand what he's losing. He needs to see that without you, he IS that monster."

"No, you're not Sam. Don't believe him," Dean insisted.

The demon opened his hand and a sword melded into solidity with it. It gleamed menacingly in the dim glow of the light. The demon swung it around and thrust it into Dean's torso.

"NO!!!" Sam yelled, watching helplessly again.

Screams, once again, pierced the air and even echoed as the blade cut into Dean and his blood dripped down to the hilt.

"This is what awaits you, Dean. Torment at my hands for eternity, but there are worse things than physical pain. Fortunately, for me, you'll heal, over and over again so that I can keep on torturing you, but the scars on your soul, they won't heal as quickly, if they ever do at all. Wasn't it your own brother who said that no matter what is done to you, it's nothing compared to what you can do to yourself? You're your own best torturer, Dean. You still blame yourself for not getting there in time to keep Jake from killing your brother. Even with Sam, alive, in the flesh, you still think that letting him die in the first place makes you a failure, that you failed at doing your job."

Dean threw his head back in agony, struggling to breathe through the hot fire going through his entire body. Even if he had wanted to say something, he couldn't.

"You still feel your father died for nothing," the demon thrust the sword in deeper, making Dean stiffen. "Even after all I've told you, you still believe that your father would have saved your brother, not killed him. Denial is a river in Egypt, Dean. The longer you harbor it in your soul, the longer the pain will linger and never end."

The demon pulled the sword out quickly. Dean stiffened again and gasped from the pain.

"Do what…you need to do…Believe what…you want to believe…but I won't…believe that Sam…is a demon…He's good…nothing…will turn him. Nothing. Now…let him go…"

Dean coughed up blood and just spit it out, aiming for whatever passed for the monster's feet, but not sure if he hit anything.

Suddenly, the room started to quake and Dean watched as Sam began to transform, disappearing into a bright light. He looked over at the demon, but there wasn't a face he could read to see if it had some thing to do with what had just happened.

"What did you…do to him?" Dean tried to yell.

The demon turned. Its eyes glowed and for reasons that he couldn't explain, Dean felt something from it. He could have sworn it was shock.

oooo

TBC