Title:The Lord of Demons
Author:KatiKat
Fandom:Supernatural
Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply here.
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: AHBL2
Words: 1200
Summary: Dean's one year is up... and he's not dead?
Notes: My big thank-you goes to my wonderful beta yamitai!
Notes2: Yes, another "Dean, Sam and the Crossroads Demon" scenario XD

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Dean woke up.

Which was weird because he shouldn't have. Woken up that is. Not on the 366th day after selling his soul to the Crossroads Bitch o' Hell. He should have been dead. A goner. Ripped apart by hell hounds. Suffering forever in a pit of hot lava.

Instead he was lying in his bed in a dingy motel room, sun streaming in through the half closed curtains, dust motes whirling in the bright rays. Dean sat up, his heart thundering wildly in his chest and turned his head towards his brother's bed so quickly that he almost a got whiplash. If the idiot... But no, the idiot was still in his bed, fully clothed and snoring drunkenly. Dean grabbed his watch from the night stand. 8.30 am. How...?

Last night, he got Sammy thoroughly drunk in anticipation of what would come. He was ready to whack his brother over the head just to be sure that Sam would not do something stupid like step in the path of the bloodthirsty hell hounds or the Bitch o' Hell herself. At 11 pm, Dean dragged Sam, who was completely out of his mind by then, back to their motel room, then sat down, just for a minute, to say goodbye to his sleeping brother, to take one last look. And...

Obviously, he must have fallen asleep. But no matter what, he should be dead by now. Sleep was definitely not a demon killing weapon. Not that he knew of, at least.

Frowning, Dean swung his legs over the side of his bed, then he reached over and shook Sammy's hand, that was hanging off the bed, hard. "Sam! Dude, wake up! Something's wrong!" Dean kept yanking his brother's arm until Sam groaned, opening one eye.

"Hmf?" Sam grunted.

Dean jumped to his feet almost vibrating with nervous energy. "Sam, something's wrong, you hear me?"

Waving a hand, Sam turned onto his side, his back to Dean. "Dude, I'm sleeping!"

Spreading his arms wide, Dean almost yelled. "But I'm not dead, Sam. How come I'm not dead? Did we have a leap year or something? Did I miscalculate? Was it...?" Sam murmured something unintelligible, interrupting Dean's tirade. "What was it?"

Receiving a snore in response, Dean felt like kicking his brother. And seeing no reason not to do it, he did.

Sam yelped as his older brother kicked his butt, pushing him off the bed. Landing on his knees and face and instantly awake, Sam glared at his brother over his side of the bed. "Was that really necessary?" he growled.

"Yeah!" Dean shouted, frustrated as... well, hell. "Dude, I should be dead! Six feet under! No pulse whatsoever! What am I still doing here?" Dean's voice was full of exasperation and panic. "You didn't do anything stupid, did you, Sammy?"

Grunting, Sam scrambled to his feet slowly. "Killed the bitch," he admitted between two jaw-cracking yawns.

Dean gaped, eyes wide. "Come again?"

Sam waved his hand again. "Two states over. Trapped her, shot her, exorcized her. Piece of cake." Another huge yawn. "Man, I need a shower and painkillers. I reek and my head hurts!" The accusing look was lost on Dean though.

Dean blinked, at loss for words. "How... You didn't... It is..."

Paying no attention to his babbling brother, Sam scratched his belly and staggered towards the bathroom, cursing as he stubbed his toe on the threshold.

"You IDIOT!" Dean yelled finally as the bathroom door closed and grabbing the first thing to hand, which was unfortunately his watch, he hurled it furiously against the closed door where it shattered into thousands of pieces.

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Meanwhile in the bathroom, Sam smiled hearing the sharp thump against the door and Dean's furious yell, all traces of exhaustion and hangover falling off of him like a mask. His face growing stone cold and serious, his eyes flashed yellow and the bathroom around him disappeared, revealing the reality.

All around in the huge, endless cave fires flared, the air full of acrid smoke and the smell of burning flesh... human flesh. Bones crunched beneath Sam's booted feet as he stepped backward, suffering souls reaching out to him with pale, gaunt, bleeding arms, gripping his suddenly black trousers that fitted him perfectly. Kicking at the desperate arms of screaming sinners and freeing himself of the trash, Sam fixed his ugly yellow eyes on his brother.

For there he was, Dean Winchester, hanging in unbreakable chains, half naked and burned, chin resting on his battered chest, eyes glazed and unseeing. But even though the physical manifestation of his soul was in Hell, suffering eternal torment, his mind...

"That was sneaky of you," came the amused voice from behind Sam.

Sam didn't jump. He was expecting her. Turning slowly, he looked at her, the Crossroads Demon. Here, just like up there, she preferred the dark and mysterious look. But whereas on Earth she inhabited human females, down here, she was only vaguely humanoid with dark red eyes glowing in her head.

She moved past him towards his brother, reaching out. But Sam's hand shot out, gripping her arm tight, eyes flaring up bright and dirty golden in color. "Don't you dare!"

The demon chuckled. "Oh, Sammy. I was complimenting you," she chided him. "There was no way to get Dean out of the deal. He sealed our agreement with his own free will. And the punishment for such a transgression is eternity in Hell. So you joined him down here, joined us. Took up the position Azazel made for you. You became our Lord," her voice dripped with sarcasm, "just to spare your brother the torment. Only as our emperor you have the power to decide about a sinner's punishment." She chuckled again. "I think I should probably be mad at you." She moved closer and if she could breathe, Sam would have felt it on his neck. "I wanted Dean to suffer. Really suffer."

Sam sneered, looking down at her. "Yes, I became your master to spare my brother pain," he agreed, nodding. "But as the Lord of demons I can do much more. For example this…" Lashing out, he gripped the demon's head in his large palm and squeezing tightly, he engulfed her in hellfire that destroyed everything it touched. Her screams were music to his ears and his yellow eyes glinted in satisfaction.

When it was over, Sam dusted the soot and ash off of his palm carelessly. Walking over the decaying souls that whimpered in agony and cowered in horror from him now, Sam stepped close to his brother again and took Dean's face gently in his hands. Lifting it, the chains rattling, he touched his forehead to his brother's and closing his eyes he sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean. Not even the Lord of Hell can break a binding contract. Rules are rules. But I'll protect you forever, bro. You will never feel anything, never feel any pain again..."

And the master of demons let himself fall once more...

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"Dude! What's taking you so long?" Dean's yell and another thump that Sam suspected to be his shoe hitting the bathroom door, rattled the paper thin walls. "I'm starving!"

Sam smiled, his yellow eyes fading to green again.

At least for a while...

The End