Demon Seals

Chapter One: Return

Welcome to the next story in the "Demon Blood" 'verse! April ended up being a pretty busy month for me, but I made some good progress in getting this story going. Updates will probably be a little on the slow side as I work to make sure that everything lines up the way I want it to.

I'm so excited to finally share this story with you guys! This was the resulting story that came into my head with the initial sparkling idea of "what if Sam learned about the demon blood earlier than on the show and was kidnapped by Azazel?" Everything I've written has been leading up to this story. This is where everything changes. There are still a few things from season 4, but most of it is going to be all new. Strap yourselves in, guys. This is going to be an intense ride.

Note for new readers: you have stumbled onto a massive AU with multiple stories. The correct order to read them in is listed in my profile. Enjoy!

"Help!" His voice was incredibly hoarse, and his throat dry like he hadn't swallowed in months. "Help!" He coughed, almost dropping the zippo lighter in his hand as he began to understand two things.

First of all, he wasn't in Hell anymore. How, he didn't know, but it seemed he was back in his body again. And secondly, he realized he was in a simple wooden coffin. Which meant he had been buried. What on earth had Sam been thinking?

Not that it mattered at the moment, because Dean Winchester was clearly stuck six feet under, and chances were he was going to have to climb out on his own. Taking a deep breath, he smashed at the lid of the coffin with his fist until it broke and dirt began to seep through, putting out the lighter. Now for the hard part, he thought to himself.

It was pretty much agony.

After what felt like forever, he felt his hands break though the surface above him. Finally!

Then something grabbed his hands and pulled him from the dirt and into the sunlight.

Dean coughed and gasped for breath when his face emerged, and the something released him once he was completely free of the earth. He collapsed face-down and focused on the feel of the grass beneath him and the sound of his breathing.

This was real, he knew that with absolute certainty. But how?

"Dean Winchester."

Dean started, remembering that something had pulled him free and turned on his back, blinking in the harsh sunlight at the figure standing over him. It was a man with dark hair, wearing a suit and trenchcoat.

"Who —?" Dean broke off and started coughing again.

"You are in need of water," the man said, suddenly holding out a bottle.

Dean was confused, but water was water, so he reached out and took the bottle from the man's hand, cracking it open and carefully guzzling it down. "Who are you?" he asked once he had finished off the bottle.

"My name is Castiel," the man said. "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

Dean blinked. What the fuck? "You brought me back from Hell," he said, just to clarify. Castiel nodded. "Mind telling me how you managed to pull that off? There ain't a damn thing that can bring a soul back from Hell and stick it back in its body."

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel said as though it explained everything.

Dean blinked and looked up again. An angel. Seriously?

"You're kidding," Dean said, forcing himself to stand. "Angels don't exist. No one's ever seen one."

"That is because we have been mostly observing for the last two thousand years," said Castiel like that explained everything.

"Oh," Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Right. So, why'd you pull me out?"

"God has work for you."

And that was about as insane as this entire situation. "What day is it?" he asked instead, trying to focus on things that might actually make sense.

"It is March 19, 2009," Castiel said, and Dean frowned.

"It's only been about a year? Seriously?"

"Time passes differently down in Hell, Dean," Castiel said, "but it was more than long enough."

"Right," Dean said again. "So, you're telling me that God and angels actually exist, and you think I'm some chosen warrior or something?"

"That is correct."

Dean frowned. This couldn't be happening. "I still can't wrap my mind around angels. I mean, aren't you guys supposed to have wings or something? You look more like a tax accountant."

"This?" Castiel glanced down at his body. "This… is just a vessel."

"Wait," Dean said. "Are you actually possessing some poor dude like a demon?"

"We don't take vessels unwillingly," Castiel answered, voice taking on a hard edge. "This man is very devout. He actually prayed for this."

Dean was starting to wonder if he was losing it. "Where am I?"

"A few miles outside of Pontiac, Illinois."

"Oh." That was when Dean took a good look at his surroundings and realized that several trees had been blown over in a large circle, his grave the exact center. It made him think of a nuclear bombsite. "Did you do this?"

"Yes," Castiel answered.

The whole thing was completely insane. Angels. Dean just couldn't process it at all. "So uh…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say next. "What now?" he finally settled for.

"Now I take you wherever you need to go," Castiel said.

"Great," Dean said, "I wanna go find my brother."

"I can't do that, Dean."

Dean frowned. "Why the hell not?"

"It wouldn't be safe for you."

"Meaning?"

Castiel looked away for a moment. "We've been watching your brother for some time, now," he said, "and I'm afraid he's headed down a very dark path." He met Dean's eyes and Dean was bothered by the intensely calm darkness of them, even though those eyes were a very clear blue. "He is not the same man you left behind."

"A dark path? Not the same? What're you—?" And then it hit him. That revelation had come so very long ago, but it had driven his actions for so long until the events of Cold Oak.

He and Sam were each other's strength and weakness. Sam would do anything to protect Dean, and he didn't doubt for a second that this could easily include starting up the demon blood addiction willingly if it'd save his life, somehow. But so long as Dean was around, Sam would stay away from the blood because he didn't want to be addicted or let Dean down. He would learn to control his abilities so he didn't hurt anyone, Dean in particular, even though he was clearly scared of himself, of the things he could do. All Dean had to do was keep them both alive and together.

"I failed," he whispered. "Sam needed me so much more than I needed him, and Dad knew it." He turned away from Castiel and passed a hand through his hair, which was still cut how he liked it. Then he looked down at himself, realized he was completely healed, and had to wonder: how had an angel fixed his body up so perfectly?

Sam had broken his promise, his mind hissed at him, bringing him back on track with current events. How long had he lasted before giving in? "Do you know when he started exorcizing demons with his mind?" he asked.

"He started in October," Castiel said. "Do you still remember what it cost for him to do that?"

Dean turned back in disbelief. "I let my brother drink demon blood to save a barn full of people he didn't even know. I treated him like a weapon for the greater good after Azazel fucking kidnapped him and got him addicted in the first place! I witnessed two withdrawals and watched my brother fight to stay clean for me, so lemme tell you what I know more than anything." He stepped closer to Castiel, who didn't even attempt to back away. "Whatever choices Sam has made, and whatever path he's on, I know exactly how to get him back. You take me to him right now or I will walk away and find him myself."

"Dean," Castiel said in a quiet voice, "I cannot allow you anywhere near your brother."

"Why not?" Dean asked angrily.

"Those are my orders," said Castiel. "You can go see anyone you want, go anywhere you want, except for Sam."

"Then take me to Bobby's and I'll call him from there," Dean said.

"Sam hasn't been in contact with Mr. Singer since you died."

Dean's mouth fell open. "What? Why? What's he been doing?"

"We… haven't been able to track Sam's exact whereabouts for some time now," Castiel admitted. "I believe the demon he consorts with created hex bags that cloak his location from both angels and demons."

"Whoa, hang on," Dean said, lifting his hands. "Sam's been doing what with a who?"

"The demon named Ruby," Castiel answered. "They have been working together these last few months."

Dean took a step back. "He's with Ruby? That bitch…" He turned away again, ignoring his growling stomach as he tried to think. How could Dean have ever trusted her to look after his brother? How had things gotten so messed up? Why the fuck had Sam broken his promise?

"I watched Sam for monts after you died," Castiel suddenly said. "It seemed clear to me that you both share a deep bond with each other."

Dean looked back at the angel. "He's all I got left," he said simply.

Castiel nodded solemnly. "That is why I volunteered for the mission to rescue you from Hell."

Dean frowned slightly, wondering where Castiel was going with all this.

"I have never spent time with humans," Castiel said after a moment, "and I never paid much attention to your kind, but there are many things that have happened in recent days that have caused me to rethink my position in the current war you must take part in." That was when Dean noticed a slight change in the angel's tone, though he stiffened slightly when Castiel stepped close to him. "I cannot take you to your brother," he said softly, "but there are other things going on that myself and the other angels have to attend to, so it isn't possible to keep a close eye on you at all times."

Dean looked into Castiel's eyes and immediately understood what the angel was trying to say. "Thanks," he said, shoulders slumping slightly. "Now, would you take me to Bobby's?"

Castiel nodded, raised a hand and placed two fingers to Dean's forehead. Suddenly, the angel was gone and Dean was standing in the middle of the salvage yard outside Bobby's home in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Given how long he'd been gone, Dean knew better than to expect a warm welcome, but he had to find Sam, and Bobby was pretty much his only chance of accomplishing that.

"Dean, you have to save your brother from what's coming, and if — if you can't, you might have to kill him." John's words echoed in his mind for the first time in years, but now Dean was finally beginning to understand just how much his dad had figured out, how much he had never told him or Sam about what lay ahead. If angels existed, then what was to say that Lucifer himself didn't?