AN: This is a sequel to Do You Recall. It will be much shorter, and will include some more deviations from the story line for those who are tired of just reading a recap of the same episodes, no matter how much we love 'em. The story title and chapter titles are based on much loved (by me at least) song titles: the chapter title by Steve Perry, the story title by Aerosmith.

What It Takes

I: Strung Out

They were on a plane.

A fucking plane.

What Dean had expected with the acid lights and the cage holding Satan opening up...well, he thought he'd be a lot deader.

Not flying in an aircraft full of passengers, sitting in a three-seat lane with his brother and his girlfriend Elena between them. She had been there too, at an old convent in Maryland trying to stop Sam from killing Lilith, but they both had been too late. The demon's blood had seeped down into the stone floor and broke the final seal to Lucifer's goddamn cage.

"What the hell," Sam whispered.

"I don't know," Dean murmured. The pilot announced over the intercom that they were passing Ilchester overhead.

"Weren't we just there?" Elena asked. Before Dean could reply or complain about his highly rational fear of flying, the pilot swore over the intercom and the plane lurched—cutting left, then straight down. The oxygen masks deployed, but Dean wouldn't take his hands off the arm rests. He only clenched Elena's hand too tightly when she grabbed onto him. From outside the window, he could see the great flash of light engulfing the convent below, bringing it down to rubble.

The plane eventually righted itself as the explosion died down, but none of them relaxed for the duration of the flight.

Elena was lucky she parked a good distance away from the convent. They landed just outside the city and hotwired an abandoned car to get back to her blue Camaro, nearly a mile away from the convent.

"Why did you park so far?" Dean asked from the passenger seat when she took up the task of driving.

"I read what Chuck wrote, the place blowing up and everything," she said. Sam had escaped from his demon blood detoxing to track down Lilith. But when Dean had been taken by the angels during their hunt for Sam, Elena ventured out on her own to find Dean. The only person on Earth she knew who could possibly have a lead on either Dean or Sam was the prophet Chuck. She made him fork over his manuscript if he didn't want to have his impending booty call disturbed, and immediately made the drive to Maryland.

Though she guessed parking a mile out wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't made it out alive.

The car ride was tense. Sam tried to say his piece and apologize, for the demon blood, for escaping their intervention, for springing the Prince of Darkness, who the hell knew. Elena was prepared to stop the car and break up a fight, but she breathed a sigh when Dean stopped him calmly, assuring he wasn't mad.

They did have more pressing things to deal with, like finding out where the hell Cas was. So Elena drove to Chuck's house for the second time that day.

The place was completely trashed, complete with blood splattering in the kitchen. A small creaking sound had them on alert, until Sam was smacked in the face with a plunger.

"Ow!"

"S-Sam? Sam! You're…you're okay!"

"Well, my head hurts."

"But my vision…you went like full on Vader! Your body temperature was one-fifty, your heart rate was two hundred, your eyes were black!"

"Your eyes went black?" Dean asked. Sam turned around, shame in his eyes and in the tense slump of his shoulders.

"I…I didn't know," he said. Dean took in an inaudible breath and turned back to Chuck.

"Where's Cas?"

"He's dead…or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him." Chuck shook his head, both sad and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"You sure? I mean…maybe he just vanished into the light or somethin'."

"Uh, no. He like, exploded," said Chuck. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

Sam and Elena had similar reactions at the grotesque visual, mingled with sadness, but Dean was strangely blank. Elena nearly reached for his hand, but thought better of it. When this shitty aftermath was over, they would all deal with what they'd just survived. She would make sure they all got to a place with a hot shower, find them a hot meal, and with several beers, she would try to pry Dean open at least a little bit. She didn't care if the world was about to be thrown into the shitter, or even that Sam had unintentionally started it. She would not let Dean become the broken husk he became when he came back from hell.

"Oh God…is there—is there a molar in my hair?" Chuck's lower lip wobbled as he held up the bloody tooth with a shaky hand. "Tell me there's not a…a molar in my hair."

The prophet squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to swallow past the bile and repressed hysterics. "It's been a very stressful day."

Dean shook his head and muttered, "Cas, you stupid bastard."

Sam turned to his brother, frowning.

"Stupid? He was trying to help us."

"Yeah, exactly."

"So what now?"

"I don't know."

"Oh crap," Chuck said. Elena glanced over at him with a frown.

"What?" she asked.

"I can feel them."

"Well, we thought we'd find you here."

They turned to a smug face Dean had come to know as Zachariah. Another angel who claimed to know his destiny. He stood flanked by two other angels in black suits, and kicked past a cracked bowl in his way.

"Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us."

"You just keep your distance, asshat." Dean pointed at the angel, effectively making Zachariah pause, if for a moment. He leaned back slightly and frowned.

"You're upset."

"Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started Judgment Day."

"We let it happen, we didn't start anything," the angel pointed out, and then with a wink. "Right, Sammy?"

Sam glared, but couldn't exactly deny it.

"You had a chance to stop your brother, so let's not quibble over who started what," Zachariah continued. "Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. Because like it or not…it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean said with a mocking smirk.

"You want to kill the Devil, we want you to kill the Devil. It's…synergy."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean asked. He could've laughed. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly."

Zachariah gave him a measuring look.

"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast, before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel?" asked Sam. "Lucifer needs a meat suit?"

Zachariah chuckled.

"He is an angel. Them's the rules." And then his smile was cold. "When he touches down we're talking Four Horsemen, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean. But you need our help."

Dean met the angel's eyes squarely.

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," he said. "After what you did, I don't want jack-squat from you—"

The angel seethed and stepped forward, but Dean held his ground. Elena gripped the back of his jacket. If the angel decided to get handsy again with either Winchester, no way was she going to be left in the dust wondering how they hell she was going to find them again. But she also hoped her touch was enough to remind Dean not to provoke someone they already knew was a bit testy and a lot into cruel torture.

"You listen to me, boy. You think you can rebel against us, as Lucifer did…" Zachariah trailed as his gaze did, downward to Dean's hand.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," said Dean, whose mouth curved into a smirk. "A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up."

He pulled out the sliding kitchen door and placed his hand in the center of the blood-drawn symbol, effectively banishing all three angels.

"I learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch."

They found a lower-than-usual-rate motel to finally crash for the night. None of them got much sleep, but at least they all showered (one out of three ain't bad, but it's still pretty piss poor). The tension was palpable until Sam left to get breakfast and Dean and Elena stayed to clean their dull knives and powder-slick guns. It was quiet, but not peaceful.

"Dean," said Elena. She toyed with a salt round before sticking it back into the rifle in her hands. There were five beers between them from the night before, but with Sam in the room it hadn't felt right to start talking about how they were going to fix the silent standoff between her boyfriend and her best friend.

Dean looked up at her from sharpening his knife.

"Yeah," he answered.

"What're you thinking?"

His half chuckle was humorless, but it was enough of an answer. They were both tired, bone tired, and going between numb and starving, and very far from okay.

Elena Hayes met Dean when she was fourteen years old. She and her dad met up again with Dean and the late John Winchester by accident, for a monster ganking that took four weeks too long. That was their early twenties. They didn't see each other again until it was her father who was lost on the Job. Despite the brothers' valiant effort, Jack Hayes had met a similar fate, and Elena was determined. She had to make sure Dean—the guy who tried, who was probably her first teenage crush, and had made a both selfless and selfish deal—didn't end up like her dead father.

Of course she failed (because she knew that was just what she did, more often than not, but in the end it wasn't about her anyway). He went to hell, and he came back a mess of guilt and a broken soul, and he buried it all because that was what he did.

Elena had known Dean long enough to realize what he was burying now, and why. She also understood that it would be useless to try and dissuade him, at least for now. Eventually she would get a soft spot, and this time she wouldn't push him to the edge just to make herself feel like she helped him. She would let him give what he wanted to, and she would be there, but what she wouldn't do was let this no man's land between Sam and Dean continue for much longer.

Elena got up when the complimentary instant coffee was done and set a cup in front of Dean. She carded a hand through his hair and pressed a gentle kiss against his temple, then his cheek. His arm slid around her waist and he turned his head up to her. His eyes seemed to take in her face for the first time in a while. She offered him a small smile. It didn't matter that Lucifer was lurking at some dark corner of the world, or that angels were tracking them down, or anything else. For now, they were safe, and they had this moment to collect themselves before they sat down and even began to think about what they were going to do about the fucking Apocalypse.

Dean kissed her, just the press of lips to lips, slow. Like a breath.

Her hand was warm from the coffee mug and met his cheek, while his grasped her hip and pulled her closer.

All too soon, Sam unlocking the door broke them apart. He sensed that he'd interrupted something, but he covered it with a hesitant smile and nodded at Dean, tossing him a hex bag that he'd learned how to make "from Ruby." At seeing the look on his brother's face, he attempted again and again to apologize, but Dean snapped eventually, in so many words telling him to drop the subject.

"Let's say this is any other case. What would we do first?"

"Well uh…we'd…find the creature."

"Okay," Dean said. That was a start. "Now we just…find the Devil."

It was another hour before a stroke of luck came in the form of Becky Rozen, an obvious fan of Chuck's book series with a borderline disturbing obsession with Sam. But she delivered a message from Chuck, who was being monitored by the angels. Fortunately for the hunters, the angels lost Michael's sword, which was the only weapon that could defeat Lucifer. Apparently it was in a castle, on a hill, made of forty-two dogs.

Becky left not long after that on Sam's insistence, but they called Bobby to let him know where they were, and to bring the Impala. It was a few hours, but he finally got to the hotel, hugging all three of them when he walked in.

"Good to see all of ya in one piece," he said.

"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asked.

"You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

Sam laughed a bit, a nervous habit.

"You heard?"

"I heard, Romeo," he replied dryly. "So, you think we're talking about the actual sword of Michael."

"The sword from the actual archangel?" Dean clarified.

"You better friggin' hope so."

From the Impala's trunk he brought in one of several books especially for the occasion. He set it on the kitchen table and flipped it open to a picture of Michael.

"Toughest sombitch they got."

Dean looked over his brother's shoulder at the pictures, more like paintings.

"You serious? The guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

"Well I wouldn't wanna meet him in a dark alley, believe me," said Bobby. "He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust up upstairs he's the one that booted Lucifer's ass to the basement, and he did it with that sword. So if we can find it—"

"We can kick the Devil's ass all over again," Sam finished. "…So where do we start?"

"Divvy up and start readin'. Try to make sense of Chuck's nonsense."

Sam nodded and got up from the table, though he paused at the kitchen counter.

"Kid," said Bobby. "You all right?"

"…No. I'm not, actually." Sam looked up at Bobby, Dean, and Elena. The only family he had, and he felt like he'd let them down in the worst way possible.

"Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry," he said, and continued, despite Dean's warning call of his name. Elena only shook her head, crossing her arms. "Lilith didn't break the final seal…Lilith was the final seal."

"Sam," Dean said firmly. "Stop it."

"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."

"…You what?" Bobby exclaimed.

"You warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen," said Sam. "…I brought this on."

Bobby stood from the table and moved toward Sam, his expression incredulous. He stopped in front of Sam.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless, and selfish, and arrogant."

"I'm sorry," Sam said weakly, blinking past the burn in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Bobby whispered, and came close to Sam, looking the younger Winchester in the eyes. "You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of shit don't get forgiven, boy…if by some miracle we pull this off, I want you to lose my number. Understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"There's an old church nearby," he said, his voice small. "Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "You do that."

Elena wanted to say something at the time, but didn't know how when her uncle was so obviously mad and hurt. She agreed with what he said, just…not how harsh he'd been. Dean wasn't upset with Bobby. It looked like he agreed with him too. And maybe they all needed the space, but she was really starting to hate the quiet after three hours.

"I woulda never guessed your daddy was right," said Bobby.

"About what?"

"About your brother." Dean gave him a sideways look. "That you'd either save him or have to kill him. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Dean asked. Elena looked up at Bobby through furrowed brows.

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."

"Bobby," Dean's protest was somewhat of a groan, but Elena was taken aback. She'd never known him to even suggest something like that.

"He ended the world, Dean. And we weren't strong enough to stop him," he said. "That's on us. I'm just sayin', your dad was right."

"Bobby, hold on a minute," Elena began. Dean laid a hand on her wrist, silently asking her to hold on a moment.

"…Dad," he trailed.

"Dean?" Elena asked. He had that look in his eyes that said they'd found their breakthrough. He searched through his back and retrieved a zip lock bag full of pictures and dates and receipts.

"I don't believe it," he smiled, and brought the small card in his hand to the table. "I don't believe it."

"The hell is it?" Bobby asked.

"It's a card," said Dean. "From my dad's lock up in upstate New York. Read it."

"Castle storage, 42 Rover Hill."

"Castle on a hill with forty-two dogs," said Dean.

"So you think your dad had the Michael-sword the whole time?" Elena asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could've meant."

Bobby shrugged.

"All right. Good enough for me."

Dean didn't see the punch coming, but it sent him reeling back, through a wooden rail and to the floor. Elena's scream brought him back to his senses as his vision cleared, just in time to see Bobby grab her by the hair and slam her head into the kitchen counter. She slid to the ground.

Dean then scrambled to get his feet under him, and Bobby helped him the rest of the way up, only to kick him straight through the closet door.

Dean's vision swam again, but Bobby shook him clear and grabbed his shoulders tightly while pulling him onto his feet and holding him in place. His eyes flashed black and Dean knew for certain this wasn't Bobby at all. The front door opened, letting in three demons: two men and a woman with long dark hair and a sassy smirk.

"I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, pain in the ass, Dean," she drawled. "But I never dreamed you were so VIP."

She plucked Ruby's magic knife from the nightstand and grinned at him.

"I mean, you are gunna ice the Devil? You?" The demon laughed and traced his jaw line with the blade in her hands. "If I'd have known that I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago."

"Ruby?" he greeted through the pain in his shoulder blade. Bobby had a death-grip on him.

"Try again," she said. "Go back further."

"…Meg?"

"Hi." The demon smiled at the surprise on his face. "These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father is among us. You know, we're all dreamy again for the first time since we were human? It's Heaven on Earth. Or Hell…we really owe your brother a fruit basket."

The hunter rolled his eyes.

"My God you like the sound of your own voice."

"You on the other hand, you're the only bump on the road," she said. "So every demon, every single one, is just dying for a piece of you."

Dean smiled mockingly.

"Get in line."

"Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby," she said. "Let's ride."

Meg kissed him hard, held him by his chin while he tried to pull away. Until she screamed in both pain and annoyance when three rounds of salt embedded themselves into her arm, stomach, and thigh. The fingers in Dean's shoulder squeezed harder into muscle, but he turned around to see Elena with a rifle in her hand. He knew that look. She was severely pissed.

One of Meg's companions started to charge her, but she let out another round between his eyes, the force sending him smacking into the wall behind him. Meg recovered enough to hold up a hand, commanding the third demon to stay where he was. She smirked.

"Who's she, groupie, or Yoko Ono?" she asked. Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course, that'd make little bro the McCartney of the equation. Not sure he's got the brains for that."

Meg then glanced over at Bobby, who was using Dean as a shield against Elena. Meg put the magic knife into Bobby's free hand. "But ya know, your surrogate daddy's still in there, screaming. And I want him to know how it feels slicing life out of you. And if there's anything left of wannabe-Yoko when I'm done…he can finish her off."

"No!" Elena exclaimed when the demon in Bobby rushed forward, pinning Dean against the wall. But before she could fire, Meg aimed a kick at Elena's head. She ducked and jammed the butt of the rifle between the demon's eyes, then flipped it around to shoot her again. The sound of a knife making contact with flesh made her stop.

She looked up and watched Bobby's eyes flicker out and roll into his head as he hit the floor. Ruby's knife protruded from his stomach. Tears burned in her eyes, but she had no time to recover as a punch to the jaw sent her careening back into the table. Her breath was knocked right out of her lungs and she couldn't get it back right away. And then she couldn't get it back at all, as a hand closed around her throat and squeezed painfully.

"Hmm...second thought, I don't think I'll leave much of anything," Meg said with a smirk as the woman under her choked. Her weight was heavy on Elena, and she could feel her windpipe just about to give under the pressure.

And then with a male grunt the weight was gone. Elena coughed violently and sucked in precious air, the pain in her lungs bringing involuntary tears to her eyes once again, but Dean was there to brush her hair out of her face and ask her if she was okay.

She could only nod through her coughing and watch the newly entered Sam fight off Meg, until he got a hold of Ruby's knife.

Meg left her meat suit in a heap on the floor.

They rushed Bobby to St. Martin's Hospital. He was still alive but bleeding out fast. The nurse wouldn't allow them to follow him further once they got him on the stretcher. Dean knew how badly Elena wanted to stay, but their shitty day still wasn't over with.

"We can't. We've gotta get to dad's locker before the demon's do," said Dean, reluctant but firm. Elena looked up at him through tears that streamed down her face.

"Dean—" she started coarsely. Her voice was still weak and it pained her to speak, but this was Bobby.

"I know," he held her face in his hands and wiped under her eyes with his thumbs. "We'll come straight back after we take care of this. We don't have time anymore."

With a shaky breath she nodded and let him lead her outside.

Sam had driven her Camaro to the hospital, so they left it there while they drove the Impala to the storage unit in upstate New York. They went in, weapons drawn, and found a host of demons dead and bleeding on the floor. And Zachariah and his men found them.

"I see you told the demons where the Michael-sword is."

"Oh, thank God. The angels are here," Dean snapped in exasperation.

"And to think, they could've grabbed it anytime they wanted," said Zachariah. With a motion of his hand, the door slid shut behind them. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"We might've planted that piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true," said the angel. "We did lose the Michael-sword. We truly couldn't find it, until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us."

Dean regarded the angel through narrowed eyes.

"We don't have anything," he said. Zachariah shook his head with a grin.

"It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael-sword." The angel laughed. "What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean…not much of one."

"What do you mean I'm the sword?" Dean cut in tersely.

"You're Michael's weapon. Or rather, his receptacle."

"…I'm a vessel?"

"You're the vessel. Michael's vessel."

"H-How," asked Dean. "Why me?"

"Because you're chosen, Dean. It's a great honor."

"Oh, yeah. Life as an angel condom. That's real fun," Dean deadpanned. "I think I'll pass, thanks."

Zachariah shook his head.

"Joking…always joking, well, no more jokes…bang." He raised a hand and "shot" Sam with broken legs. Elena gasped and knelt down to help him sit up and breathe through the pain.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed.

"Keep mouthing off and I'll break more than his legs," the angel said smoothly. "I am completely and utterly through screwing around. War has begun, and we don't have our general. That's bad. Now Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh?" Dean asked sharply. "A million? Five, ten?"

"Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

"…There's a reason you're telling me this," said Dean, "Instead of just nabbing me…you need my consent. Michael needs my say so to ride around in my skin."

The angel's lips pursed.

"…Unfortunately, yes."

Dean shook his head.

"There's gotta be another way."

"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent, it is written."

"Maybe," said Dean. "But on the other hand, eat me. The answer's no."

"Okay, how about this. You know your friend Bobby, gravely injured? If you say yes we'll heal him, say no and he'll never walk again."

Dean's expression was stony, but unyielding.

"No," he said.

Then the angel's gaze went to Sam and Elena, who glared at him from their vantage point on the floor.

"Then why don't we heal this girl here from…oh I dunno, stage four stomach cancer?"

Dean whipped around to Elena, who suddenly looked too pale. Sam tried to steady her, but she stumbled to her knees coughing. It felt like a stabbing pain in her stomach but putting her hand there would only add pressure. Dean grabbed her shoulder to support her shaky frame. But when her hand went to her mouth as she continued to cough, it came away coated in blood. Her eyes widened in fear and she looked up at Dean.

"I believe that's what your mother died from, is it not?" Zachariah asked her with raised brows, and both she and Dean glared at him.

"Stop," he gritted out icily.

"Or maybe we can save you from that heart disease-induced heart attack."

And then Dean couldn't breathe from the pain in his chest. He slid to his knees heavily beside Elena and clutched at his heart.

"Oh! Let's get really creative and see how Sam does without his lungs."

Both Dean and Elena looked over at Sam, who couldn't even gasp for breath. Zachariah leaned forward with a cold look.

"You're going to say yes, Dean."

Dean shook his head.

"Just…kill us," he wheezed.

"Kill you? Oh no…I'm just getting started."

A flash of light startled all of them, even Zachariah. Within moments both of his lackeys in black suits were disposed of, by Castiel. It left the remaining angel nearly speechless.

"How are you…"

"Alive?" he finished. "That's a good question. How did these three end up on that airplane? Another good question, as the angels didn't do it…I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

Zachariah looked shocked.

"No…that's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should," said Castiel. "Now put them back together and go. I won't ask twice."

A flutter of wings and then Sam and Dean could breathe, and Elena wasn't coughing up blood. They helped each other stand and regarded the remaining angel through wide eyes.

"You three should be more careful," he admonished.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," said Dean. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."

"I don't mean the angels…Lucifer is circling his vessel," Cas said. "And once he takes it those hex bags won't be enough to protect you."

He then burned Enochian sigils into each of their ribs to protect them against being found by all angels, including Lucifer. Once they got over the burning sensation, Sam brought up the elephant in the room.

"Cas…were you really dead?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then how are you back?" asked Dean. As per usual, the angel left without answering the question.

"Unlikely to walk again? You snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait 'til I get out of this bed, I'll use my game leg to kick your fucking ass!"

Bobby watched in satisfaction as the doctor bolted from the door and hastened down the hallway.

"Yeah, you better run!"

He glanced over at the Winchester brothers and his niece, who leaned against the wall.

"Can you believe that yahoo?"

"Screw him, you'll be fine," said Dean, his arms crossed.

"…So let me ask the million-dollar question," said Sam. "What do we do now?"

"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can I guess," said Bobby. "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're screwed."

"What if we win?" said Dean, and after the look he earned from the old man, "I'm serious. Screw the angels and the demons and their shit Apocalypse. Now they want to fight a war? They can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it."

He moved from the wall to slowly pace the room.

"We kill the Devil. Hell, we kill Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this?" Bobby asked.

"I got no idea," Dean shrugged. "But what I do have is a GED and a give 'em hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."

The other three looked at one another with similar expressions of amusement.

"You're nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby said, despite fighting a smile. Again, Dean shrugged.

"It's been said." He went forward and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. See you in a bit."

Elena smiled at her uncle and surprised him by hugging him. He chuckled a bit and rested his hand on her back for a bit before letting her go. She straightened and leaned into Dean when he wrapped his arm around her back to lead her out.

"Sam," Bobby called to the boy before they could leave. Sam stopped short and turned to him. "I was awake. I know what I said back there…I just want you to know…that was the demon talking. I ain't cuttin' you out, boy. Not ever."

Sam nodded gratefully, his eyes shining.

"Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome…I deserve a damn medal for this, but…you're welcome."

"So I was thinking, we could go after the Colt," said Sam on their way to the parking lot.

"What difference would that make?" asked Dean.

"I figured we could use it on Lucifer. You said back there—"

"I just said all that crap for Bobby's benefit."

Elena looked at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Come on…I'll fight. I'll fight to the last man, but let's be honest. We don't have a snowball's chance and you two know that." Dean then glanced at Sam. "I mean, you of all people know that."

He brushed passed his brother and to the Impala.

"Dean…" Sam sighed. He gave Elena a meaningful look, and she sighed and nodded, heading to her car that was parked next to the Impala to give them some space to finally hash things out.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" he asked.

Dean debated with himself for a moment, but eventually shrugged.

"I tried, Sammy. I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right," he said. "Because it's not. And it's never going to be…you chose a demon over your own brother, and look what happened."

"I would give…anything to take it all back."

"I know you would," said Dean. He closed his eyes for a moment and half wished they weren't doing this in a hospital parking lot. "But man…you were the one I depended on the most, and you let me down in ways that I can't even…I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here."

Sam nodded minimally, as close to the emotional brink as his brother.

"What can I do?" he asked. Dean smiled without any mirth and shook his head.

"Honestly? Nothing. I just…don't think we can ever be what we were," he said. "I just don't think I can trust you."