Te Deum

Summary: Dean never met back up with his brother. Sam meanwhile was never left alone by hunters. It's been a year and the brothers find each other. Forgiveness and torture. Season 5.

I seem to be obsessed with season five and then putting the hurt on Sam like there is no tomorrow. Many thanks to seitanspawn, my beta, for fixing this.

I would like to credit AlElizabeth for the inspiration that was her story 'The Weapon'. You should check it out, or actually wait and finish mine, hers is much better. I borrowed a few plot details (after asking her of course).

It had been a year and three months since Dean had split from his brother. Fifteen months of separation had passed, most of which Dean had spent wondering when the world was going to end. Zachariah's vision had proved that Sam would say yes, if left alone, and Sam was doing a damn good job of being left alone. Dean had spent a month looking. He'd even turned to Castiel for assistance. However, at some point in the midst of their fevered searching that revealed nothing except that Bobby hadn't heard anything and all of the burner phones that connected Dean to Sam had been tossed, Cas had pulled Dean aside.

A harried conversation had ensued; angels could be very demanding when they wanted to be.

"This is futile Dean."

Dean had raised a brow, the gesture filled with attitude and barely concealing his state of panic. It felt like his brother could say "yes" at any given moment, that, in one second, everything would be fine, but in the next, the horror-filled future would be upon them. Dean feared that future. He feared the death and contamination(?) that pervaded life there, he feared the loss of his brother to a monster with no fashion sense, and most of all, he feared the person who he had become without Sam. He never wanted to be so heartless and empty.

"We must find your brother, but Lucifer is dangerous with or without Sam as his vessel. We need to find a way to destroy or stop him."

"Defeating the devil is going to be a hell of a lot harder with him occupying his true vessel. Making sure Sam doesn't say yes is our top priority, and the only way we're going to be able to do that is by having Sam with us."

And by "us," of course, Dean meant himself.

"I do not believe your brother will say yes."

Dean glared at Castiel.

"You didn't see what I saw. Our future, the one where Sam most definitely says yes, is a nightmare, one that I sure as Hell ain't going to live in. If that means babysitting Sam's ass and making sure he doesn't say yes, then that's what I'm going to do."

Cas shot him an unsavory glance, one that was a terrible mixture of his habitual deadpan and an attempt to look frustrated. Not the angel's best work.

"Zachariah is no different than the demons you exorcise. Do you not know by now that they all lie? Zachariah will show you anything he believes will make the apocalypse happen sooner. I used to think that my brethren lied only for the greater good, and perhaps they still believe that, but I have found that, though there is no godliness behind their mission, they will stop at nothing to carry it out. There is no way to know that that is the true future. I have faith in your brother– I believe he will not say yes."

Dean couldn't reply to that. Cas hadn't seen what he had, experienced what he had. The pure terror that was in that future, the pain of seeing who he was and of seeing Sam being worn like a disposable glove by the devil himself.

"We need to find a way to stop the apocalypse, and we cannot do that while looking for your brother."

Dean looked at Castiel, body stiff with denial. Finding Sam wasn't just about making sure he didn't say yes. Being away from Sam always left Dean with a sense of fear that he couldn't reconcile with logic. However, that was something that he wouldn't consciously admit, not to himself, and definitely not to an angel. There was also the pain and anger of the past year with Sam eating away at him like acid. Nothing between the brothers had been right, not since that night Sam had guzzled liquid evil and Dean had poured out his soul in a phone message.

Sam had left and Dean was torn between wanting his brother back immediately and never wanting to see his face again. Cas's logic allowed him to believe in his brother without actually having to face him. So in the end, Dean had given a small terse nod and they'd stopped looking. One month had been spent looking, after Sam had failed to answer the call where Dean was supposed to ask him to come back.

A year and two months later, Dean was miserable. He'd been miserable since he'd agreed to Castiel's suggestion that they focus on finding a way to destroy Lucifer. Friggin' fourteen months and the best they'd found was an amulet that couldn't find God and the terrible idea of summoning Lucifer and attempting to trap him in a ring of holy fire. The time had worn on Dean; he could feel himself growing more and more numb as time after time they'd failed to find any feasible solution. Spend your days in the sole company of an angel that feels next to no emotion and has no understanding of the concept of softening harsh truths and you're bound to go a little nuts.

So a year and two months later, Dean was sitting in a bar doing the opposite of what he would've been doing a year and two months earlier. He was drinking conscientiously and avoiding looking at any women. Tonight, he was working. Castiel was God-knows-where looking for God–the irony of which was not lost upon Dean–while Dean was alternately working cases and reaching out to hunters who focused on research, like Bobby.

Tonight he was hunting an alpa, a cousin to the tokolosh and not unlike the incubus in the manner in which it incapacitated its victims. The creature assumed a human form, luring young people in for a night of "fun" before leaving them hanging. It then followed them home and fed on them while they slept, causing paralysis and, eventually, death in its victims, after feeding on them over the course of the next few days. The alpa had taken the form of a lovely young woman who was currently seducing another equally lovely young woman. The creature always preyed on the easiest victim, which several days ago had been a young man that had later been found dead.

So Dean was sitting here, watching and waiting for the alpa to make its mark. It always kissed the person it planned on killing, then fled the scene like a regular homicidal Cinderella. Dean watched as it pecked its victim on the cheek chastely before running from the room. Dean waited a moment before throwing down some cash and following. In order to kill an alpa, you needed to stab it in the heart with a bronze knife. Dean could do that.

Outside it was dark, and the single, flickering, street lamp didn't help in increasing the street's visibility. The thing had disappeared. Dean walked briskly past the building, peering down the alleyway beside it. He couldn't see very far past its entrance, so he cautiously entered the dim, narrow space, bronze knife in hand. Looking around, he found nothing except the usual trash and unidentifiable stains that characterized most alleyways. He continued his examination until he reached the next street over. Nothing. Turning to head back, Dean felt something plow into him, knocking him to the ground. The knife went flying, and Dean knew it would take a miracle toreach it again.

A tiny and ridiculously powerful fist flew into his face, making him see stars. He swore that monsters turned into five-foot-tall women just so his ego could be bruised alongside his body. Nothing said manly like getting your ass kicked by a tiny woman. Dean threw a punch to defend himself, but it seemed to have no effect, since the alpa just punched him in the face again. Head spinning, he felt himself get lifted and thrown into the air before making contact with the hard wall of the alleyway. As he blinked dark spots from his vision, Dean heard yelling and scuffling followed by the piercing scream of the alpa. When his vision cleared, Dean saw several people from where he still laid on the ground.

A hand was grasping his shoulder and a voice was asking if he was alright. Shaking his head clear, Dean looked up to see a man with shockingly orange hair and a beard squatting in front of him.

"How ya doing? Did she manage to get you?" It wasn't a particularly worried or interested inquiry, something more like an obligatory question.

Dean gave his head one last shake before looking up at the others who were now standing close behind the red-head. There was a woman and two other men.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright."

The carrot-top nodded and stood back up, offering a hand to Dean. Taking it, Dean was lifted to his feet. Another two men were taking the alpa's body and wrapping it up in a plastic sheet.

"I'm Andrew." The red-head didn't extend a hand. He followed Dean's gaze to where the men were now throwing the body into the back of a beige van.

Smirking, the man looked back at Dean. "We prefer to deal with these things right away."

"You're hunters."

Andrew nodded.

"A hunting group," he explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Unusual, yes, and not something we would usually choose. But a war is here. The apocalypse has begun and, as hunters, we can't afford not to work together."

Dean was still watching them warily. He'd had an unfortunate run in with hunters who had heard about Sam's and his involvement in the events surrounding the beginning of the apocalypse. There had also been multiple suspicions regarding his visit downstairs. He could count on one hand how many hunters knew that angels existed and on the same hand count how many would actually believe him if he said they were real.

"That's great, get all nice and cozy with each other."

He heard a scoff from one of the men standing behind Andrew.

"The thing is, we're looking for other hunters to join us." Andrew replied, unfazed by Dean's rude behavior.

"Uh-huh," Dean said, dusting off his pants and jacket.

"We could use your help. You're obviously quite good. We were in town a week and hadn't found the alpa, or even known what it was. You were here three days and already had it pinned. We could use someone like you."

"Well good luck finding someone, then." Dean started to walk off. Andrew made to go after him but was stopped by one of his companions.

"Let the dumb ass go Andrew, we don't need someone who obviously can't fight." It was the same guy who had scoffed

Dean turned around sharply.

"Look, I thinks it's great that you're all working together, but I have my own shit to deal with, on top of which I don't know you. I don't know if you're really hunters or just a group of psychos. So thanks, but no thanks."

He made to leave again but stopped as Andrew began speaking again.

"Stop, alright. A war is here, and we need to work together. Besides, we have something, something that could make a difference, make it so we could win this fight."

"Andrew–" This time it was the woman talking, her tone admonishing.

But Dean was listening now.

"We have a weapon, a thing which can do–it can do stuff. It can help us."

"What is this weapon?"

Andrew grinned. "Look, you come with us, see what we can do when we work together, how much more we can accomplish than we can by ourselves. We'll show you, and then you can decide if you want to stay."

Dean hesitated. He didn't know who these people were, but it had been over a year and he still hadn't found something that could destroy Lucifer or trap him. If these hunters had something that could help, then why not?

He nodded and Andrew smiled.

"I'm Andrew. And you are. . .?"

Andrew extended a hand which Dean took.

"Billy Ethridge."

Dean was then introduced to the rest of their "team". Ellie was 5'10, a woman in her forties that had a sharpness to her that was terrifying. Then there was Donald, Art, Jason and Hub. All hunters, and that was about all they would say. Andrew appeared to be the leader, or at least the spokesperson. He'd volunteered himself and Donald to ride in the Impala with Dean so they could follow the van. While they drove through the town, making their way from the shady part of town to the even worse, abandoned, crap part of town, Andrew talked to Dean, asking questions which Dean gave vague answers to, but he eventually got the hint and shut up.

Finally, the van pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse. Getting out, Dean followed Andrew into the building while Hub, Donald and Art took the body somewhere to the side of the building, presumably to get rid of it in typical hunter fashion.

The warehouse had a few working lights, but for the most part it was dark and empty, and its high ceiling and lack of contents made for an unwelcoming atmosphere.

Andrew turned to Dean and grinned.

"Home sweet home, Billy."

A small table and sleeping bags were set up with some cots under one of the working lights in the middle of the warehouse. To conserve salt, they'd made a large circle around the table and sleeping items, one which gave room for movement and additional things to be set up.

"It's just temporary for now. We came into town for a demon sighting which ended up, as you well know, turning out to be an alpa. Hub and Art do most of the research for us so they'll be figuring out where we head next."

Dean followed Andrew to the table which six chairs sat around. Sitting down, he was joined by Hub and Ellie while Jason went into the office room that was closed up, a devil's trap drawn outside its door. Dean watched as he entered and another guy walked out. He was too far away and the exchange too fast for him to see what was in the room.

Andrew pulled some bottles of beer from a cooler sitting next to the table and passed them out to those sitting down.

"So Ellie will show you the thing, and then you can decide what you want to do. It likes Ellie best so she deals with it most of the time."

"You mean she's the only one who can get it to eat the damn stuff."

The man who had switched with Jason had come over and was now seating himself at the table. Andrew sent him a withering smile.

"What do you mean 'it'? This is a living creature? I thought it was some kind of weapon." Dean was starting to feel unease welling up inside him.

"It's a monster." Hub said. His tone was dark and made Dean feel even more uncomfortable with the situation. The man who had yet to introduce himself let out a chuckle.

"Amazing monster too, I've never seen anything like it. Has phenomenal regenerative abilities, doesn't have any weaknesses except those of most humans, and it can't be killed. I've tried figuring out how it does it, but so far my research hasn't led to anything conclusive."

"Jonathan here is our monster expert. Loves the damn things and would probably spend all his time looking at them and drawing them instead of actually hunting them."

"I'm a scientist Andrew, you know the only reason I'm here is to further my knowledge. Finding out monsters were real opened up an entire new field in biology–"

The man appeared to be starting in on a long rant, but he was cut off by Andrew before he could continue.

"Yeah, yeah. We know Johnny."

Jonathan quieted and a dangerous look came on his face, but he didn't say anything else. Dean, meanwhile, was feeling more and more worried about what this monster was and exactly who these people were.

"Anyway Billy, we've probably gotten your curiosity going wild. Ellie can show you it and then when Donald and Art come back in we can settle down for dinner and discuss everything."

He smiled, but Dean found it more disturbing than reassuring. There was something not quite right about these people. Ellie had been quiet the entire conversation and Dean had noticed that when the "monster" was brought up she'd gotten uncomfortable. Dean just nodded and smiled back. Ellie stood and started walking towards the office room, and Dean trailed behind her.

Pulling out a set of keys, she unlocked the door and stepped into the room. Dean followed her in, eyes drinking in the sight of another devil's trap, along with a bowl of water and two bowls of what appeared to be some sort of mash, in the center of the room. His gaze then zeroed in on the corner of the room, where a large bundle that Dean recognized as humanoid, was sitting. Ellie switched the light on and Dean peered intently at the person. It was male and whoever it was was thin, making him appear like a scarecrow that had been bunched up. His head was tucked into his arms and his knees were drawn up. A ratty blanket covered him. Something about the person was oddly familiar and had Dean looking more closely at the roughly cut hair that looked as if it hadn't been washed in a long time.

"This is it."

Dean looked over at Ellie as she said it. His eyes then followed her hand which gestured at the person. Its head rose up to reveal a gaunt face and wide hazel eyes. Dean felt his own eyes widen as he realized who "it" was. The breath rushed from his body and his knees became weak. That thing in the corner, the monster, was Sam.

Does anyone else think that Sam should never wear a white suit again? Just for the sake of sparing me from putting bleach in my eyes. He looked awful in it. The fashion gods would be displeased. Also, I love Cas, so in no way will he be bashed. I don't like character bashing.