Chapter 1 – Not the Same Reflection

"Back away from Sam – now!"

Dean felt his heart ready to burst from just looking at the sight before him. Between being broken hearted and angrier than he had ever been, he was sure that he wasn't in his right frame of mind to be standing there with a loaded gun in his hand. But from learning what he had in the past twenty-four hours, Dean was about at his wit's end. There was no shaking of his hand despite the gun in it feeling like dead weight. He could smell her and it irked him to know that Sam had broken his promise. Ruby was back and it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was.

"I said now, bitch!"

Ruby glared at him over her shoulder as she slowly put up her hands in defense. As she took several steps away from Sam, Dean took several forward. The floor beneath him creaked as he continued to move toward Sam. But as he approached he noticed the charred floor beneath the chair of the man that was tied to it. He tried to ponder what would do such a thing until he saw Sam's gaze. Sam's eyes never once turned to him, but kept directly in front of him. Dean quickly fell to the man's side and tried for a pulse, finding none.

"He's dead," Sam simply said with no remorse.

Dean's hand fell limply to his side as he gazed up at Sam. His mind couldn't wrap around what was happening. Had a trip to Hell caused this much destruction? Was his family just doomed from the start? It had been something to know that his mother had been born and bred into becoming a hunter and that she never wanted this life for her family. Instead, both of her sons were now hunters, tracking the same things that her and her father did. But did she have any idea when she made the deal that her eldest son would be hunting her youngest?

"What did you do, Sam?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Without a second thought, Dean stood and shoved Sam against the wall with his arm buried deep in Sam's throat. Sam made no attempts to struggle. The anger played out on his face, but it didn't seem to faze his brother. Sam was calm, cool and collected which didn't make Dean feel any better. It just made him feel that much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Sam sighed and gestured to the poor soul that was tied to the chair. "He was a demon, Dean. I did what you taught me to do."

"Really? I taught you how to exorcise a demon that left the floor nearly still burning after the demon is sent back?!" Dean shoved his arm deeper into Sam's throat. "You told me…hell, you promised me that you wouldn't use your psychic crap! Did you summon Ruby? Did you bring her back to help you out?!"

"Dean, this isn't what it looks like."

Dean glared at Ruby over his shoulder. "I didn't ask you for your opinion and if you aren't quiet, I will find a way to send you back to Hell – permanently."

"I was going to tell you, Dean," Sam said, struggling for air. "I was just trying to find the right time."

"When was the right time going to be, Sammy?! When I found you with your own set of black eyes? I'm not going through the same crap I did when Meg possessed you. I'm not dealing with you going all dark on me."

"I'm not going to go dark!" he protested. "What the hell do you think I am?!"

Dean pointed toward the chair and looked deep into Sam's eyes. "If this is any indication, I say you already know who you are."

Moving away, feeling dejected, Dean turned and slowly began to walk away from the scene. He could feel Sam's eyes boring into him. There was too much pain to even argue the point. Castiel had been right. Azazel tainted his brother to the point that there was some higher purpose for him. What was he supposed to do to stop it? How the hell was he supposed to do anything to help Sam? If there was nothing more than a barren trail leading him to this point, there was no way he would find out anything until it happened.

"Where are you going?!"

His lips didn't move and he didn't answer Sam. All Dean could find the strength to do was walk out of the warehouse before he did something rash. Ruby had clawed her way back from Hell much like he found a one-way ticket back. Dean could bet that there was no angel that pulled Ruby from the pit. Whatever she had done, whatever deal she had made, was for a darker purpose.

Climbing into his baby, Dean slammed the door shut and sat on the leather seat for a moment before hearing the familiar roar of the engine. Even the Impala didn't make him feel any better as it usually did. 'Paint it Black' echoed all around him but didn't soothe his fears. Sam had changed in the four months that he had been in Hell. Four months and that was all it took for evil to rake its claws through his brother. It would take a lot longer to bring Sam back from the brink. It would take an act of God to save his brother's soul.

Dean threw the car into drive and began down the desolate highway. Staring out the window he mumbled to himself, "Yellow eyed son of a bitch."

The hot water cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. There was not enough hot water in the world to wash away his cares. He was too worried and too stressed to think about the kinks in his neck. Dean Winchester had never been one to back away from a fight, but this was one fight he didn't want to have. This was Sam. This was his brother and the reason why he went to Hell in the first place. Sam was the reason why he had endured the pain and the anguish of being constantly surrounded by demons – at least, that's what he told himself. He still couldn't remember what had happened to him in the pit despite waking up in a cold sweat every morning from the constant nightmares that plagued him worse than the flu ever could.

No sawed off shotgun would get him through this. There was nothing in his life that would just push aside the burden that was now on his shoulders. Castiel had practically given him an ultimatum: find out what Sam's up to or he dies. That wasn't an option he was willing to take. Dean knew he would find out what was going on with Sam before the Armies of Heaven decided to descend down and smite Sam and send him to Hell. Over his dead body that was going to happen. He didn't care if he went back to Hell himself, there was no way Sam was going to suffer in the pit. It didn't matter what Dean had to sacrifice, he was going to make sure that Sam would stay alive.

So stop it…or we will.

Dean felt the bones in his hand break as his knuckles crashed against the tiled wall in front of him. Was that why he was saved from perdition? Was it because no angel could get close enough to Sam like he could? Was that the sole purpose of him being here?

"Screw them all."

Turning off the water, Dean stepped out of the shower and rubbed the mist off of the bathroom mirror. His reflection showed only the despair that he was feeling. He was dejected and felt nothing like himself. The hand print left from Castiel was still bright pink on his left shoulder. He began to wonder if the mark of the angel would ever go away. It was like a bad episode of 'Touched by an Angel', except that Castiel was no Roma Downey. But the scars he thought would be left by the hellhound weren't there. His body was in perfect condition, but his heart was broken, mangled to the point he thought it would never be mended.

"Dean?"

His head snapped as he peered over at the closed door, almost waiting for Sam to burst through the doorway. Dean still wasn't sure what he was going to do or even how he was going to handle Sam. As he slipped on his jeans, he glanced toward the mirror again and saw his own pain and darkness floating around in his eyes. What had Sam been like while he burned in the pit? Had Sam burned in his own way?

Dean snatched his t-shirt off of the floor and slid it on before placing the vest over it. He grabbed the towel off of the wall and wrapped his hand in it before opening the door to see Sam standing there.

"What? Your bitch didn't follow you home?" he angrily asked.

Sam let him brush him aside as he moved toward the duffle bag on his bed. He didn't turn to look at Sam, didn't want to see him right now. All he wanted was time to think. There were too many variables to the equation. If he fought for Sam, then Castiel would find a way to send him back to Hell. If he fought against Sam…well, they always said blood was thicker than water.

"I can explain everything."

Peering over his shoulder, Dean noted the puppy dog look and shook his head. "Don't look like a lost and abandoned puppy, Sam. The look will get you nowhere with me. It might with Ruby…"

"Look, none of this was Ruby's fault! This was all my idea so don't put the blame on her."

"I'm going to put the blame on anyone I damn well please, considering I've had a demon helping out my brother while I was in Hell. That doesn't give me the warm and fuzzy feeling I've been feeling since I've been back. So you will have to forgive me if I really want to exorcise Ruby and send her back to Hell."

"That's right, Dean, you were in Hell," Sam countered. "I had to survive on my own."

Realization hit Dean. "You son of a bitch. She was the one who answered the door the night I came back." Sam swallowed hard as Dean moved before him. Ruby had been the one with Sam the night Dean had found him in Pontiac. "Are you out of your damn mind?! You didn't survive on your own. You had plenty of company, Sam."

"It's not like that with Ruby. I don't even know if I trust her."

"But you find it prudent to sneak out with her in the middle of the night, right under my nose, and just decide to kill some demons with your psychic powers? Way not to trust her, Sam."

Sam slowly moved away from Dean and sat down on the edge of the dresser. Dean could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. He had never been so furious in all of his life. How could Sam have been so naïve? Sam had been deemed the intelligent one of the Winchester brothers. How had Sam lost his ability to sense what was right and wrong? Even before his death, Dean had been noticing a change in Sam. Was it truly because Sam wanted to adapt to be more like him or was there something else that Sam was changing for?

"I was hoping you'd understand what I was trying to do." Sam didn't meet Dean's gaze but kept his eyes trained on the floor. "I'm not using my abilities for evil. Ruby is making sure of that."

"Yeah, I really trust her for that, Sam."

"I'm exorcising demons, Dean. I'm doing a job…a hunter's job. If I was evil, would I be doing what I'm doing?"

Dean remained silent for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his rough hands over his face before glancing up at Sam. Sam, much like him, looked as though he was ready to fall asleep for a hundred years and never wake up. They were both tired and worn, but Castiel's voice didn't stop running through his mind. There was something about Sam that Azazel wanted. Could he keep that secret from Sam if Sam had kept this from him for so long?

"I want you to stop," Dean ordered. "I want you to stop now before something goes wrong. Whatever Ruby is helping you with, I want it to stop."

"But, Dean…"

Dean cut him off. "No buts, Sam. I want it to stop. These freak powers of yours are going to get us into a lot of trouble. Exorcise demons the way dad taught us. Do it in Latin and I don't care how much longer it takes. From what I saw, your little psychic way didn't leave much on the way of keeping the guy alive."

"I'm not killing them. You know that they're dead if the demon already messes with them before they possess them."

"You don't know if you're killing them or not, do you, Sam?" Sam was silent as Dean stared at him. "It all stops now. All of it."

The cell phone on the nightstand began to ring incessantly as the brothers stared at one another. He hated doing this to Sam but it was for his own good. If the angels were watching them that closely, one wrong move and Sam would be deader than a doornail. Dean knew he couldn't risk that. He couldn't risk losing Sam now.

Reaching over, he flipped open the phone and answered it. "Yeah?"

"I think I've got something for you boys to check out."

Dean sighed at the sound of Bobby's voice at the other end. He watched as Sam shifted uncomfortably. There was too much tension between the two of them. Maybe a hunt would change that.

"What have you got for us, Bobby?"