Chapter 1

"Sam, Dean. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us.

"Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry! But you can trap him. The Cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the Cage open, trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?

"And here's the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn't even know—the key to the Cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the Cage.

"Can't say I'm betting on you boys. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother. Not anymore. So this is me, standing up."

I quickly turned off the DVD before we saw more of the archangel that either of us ever wanted. We both stared at each other dumbfounded for several moments. Then Dean broke into a huge grin and gave me an enthusiastic kiss.

"Yahtzee! This is what we've been searching for all this time! Horsemen, huh? Well, we got War's, and we nicked Famine's. That's two down. All we need is Pestilence and Death," he said.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Hey, it's a plan. It's a hell of a lot more than we had ten minutes ago," he pointed out.

"You're right. Let's get a few hours' sleep, then head to Bobby's. We need to tell him all this and then figure out what to do next."

"Yeah, 'bout that? We ain't staying in this dump. I can smell the fucking bathroom from here, and I'm pretty sure those sheets are gonna give you some kinda STD if we lay down on 'em." His lips were drawn back, his expression similar to that of a cat reacting to a strong odor.

I looked around the motel room and noticed it was pretty scuzzy, even by our standards. I shuddered as something scuttled along the baseboard near the bed.

"Okay, this place is vile. But thanks to those gods' meddling, every other motel or hotel in Muncie and the surrounding area is full or has burst pipes or something. Are you really up for driving until we find someplace better? We haven't gotten any rest all night."

"Yeah, I'll be fine for another hour or two. Besides, my Baby won't let anything happen to us."

I sighed as I repacked my laptop, not looking forward to more time in the car tonight. We dumped our bags back in the trunk and peeled away from the motel. As much as I wanted to fall asleep in the passenger seat, I forced myself to stay awake in case my brother nodded off.

It turned out, though, that there was no need for concern. Dean drove steadily, humming and drumming the steering wheel along to his tape of The Black Album. I smiled to myself as I watched him, enjoying this small sign of normalcy—one which had been sadly lacking lately.

Dean had been assaulted by another hunter nearly two months ago, and the trauma of the attempted rape was compounded by the re-emergence of suppressed memories of years of torture and gang-rape in Hell. It'd been pretty bad initially, with my brother exhibiting many of the symptoms of PTSD, including lack of interest in things that used to give him pleasure. However, his mood and demeanor had steadily improved ever since he'd killed Zachariah and rescued our half-brother Adam. Seeing him enjoying his music again was an indicator that maybe he was beginning to recover.

We drove until we were almost at the Illinois border before stopping to rest. I shook my head a little as Dean pulled into the Grotto Motel and got us a room. His knack for finding the quirkiest motel possible wherever we stopped was like some freaky, useless superpower. Our room looked like Finding Nemo had exploded all over it—sand-colored carpet, aqua walls, kelp-patterned curtains, tables shaped like coral and décor shaped like sea creatures, and brightly colored fish festooning the wallpaper border and shower door. But it seemed quite clean, and the bed was surprisingly soft despite the ridiculous clamshell design.

We wordlessly undressed and curled around each other under the seashell-printed sheets. I was still grateful that the aversion to touch my brother had developed since the attack didn't extend to me. Instead he was often almost desperately eager for my affection, as if seeking assurance that my feelings hadn't changed. I pulled him into my arms and exchanged a few slow kisses as we settled in. I watched him fall asleep before drifting off myself.

It was close to noon by the time we woke up the next day. I was pleased we'd gotten through the remainder of the night undisturbed. Dean had been plagued by nightmares after the assault, sometimes waking up two or three times in one night, shaking and sweating. It had taken some coaxing initially to get him to open up about the dreams, but he eventually realized that trying to repress the Hell memories hadn't really worked when he first got out and wouldn't work now either. The things that had been done to him there were often horrific beyond my worst imagining, and there were times I had to go off afterwards to throw up or break down. Fortunately, the frequency of his nightmares seemed to have dropped since the confrontation at Van Nuys.

I awoke first and was immediately aware of a throbbing erection. I carefully slid out of bed to not disturb my still-sleeping brother and quietly crept into the bathroom to deal with the problem. I'd been finding myself frequently needing to slip away to masturbate, because while my upstairs brain understood why Dean had lost interest in sex recently, my downstairs brain was not coping well with the current famine after the previous weeks of feasting.

I turned on the sink faucet to cover up any tell-tale noises and slicked my hands up with lotion. As I stroked myself rapidly, I imagined sinking into the tight heat of my brother's passage and thrusting against the rocking of his hips. My hands sped up to a furious pace at the thought of feeling his inner walls flexing around my cock and clenching as he climaxed. I tried to stifle my moans as I spurted all over my hands and the counter.

I hurriedly wiped the counter clean and washed my hands. I then left the bathroom and stealthily returned to the bed. Before I could get in, Dean rolled over and blinked drowsy green eyes at me.

"Hey, Sammy. What time is it?"

"Sorry, man, didn't mean to wake ya. I think it's almost eleven-thirty."

"'Sokay. We gotta get outta here soon anyways." He got up and stretched, then eyed me. "I've told you before, you don't hafta sneak around when you need to rub one out. I ain't gonna freak out."

"I know, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable . . ."

"I appreciate the thought, dude, but I don't expect you to go fucking cold turkey just 'cause I'm screwed up right now. Though hopefully this won't last for much longer." He placed a hand along the side of my face and gave me a kiss that felt more than simply affectionate.

He pulled away before the kiss went anywhere too exciting and ducked into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he stuck his head through the doorway and asked, "You wanna join me in the shower?"

I knew not to read too much into this, but this was the first invitation for anything even remotely intimate since before the assault. I responded, "Sure, Dee. Just give me a minute to brush my teeth first."

I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before stepping into the tub-shower combo. Dean smiled up at me as I lathered up a washcloth and rubbed it across the freckled skin of his broad shoulders and chest. I frowned a little as I slid the soapy cloth down his ribs. We'd been wearing t-shirts and underwear to bed recently, so this was the first time I'd seen my brother completely naked in a while.

"Looks like you've lost some weight," I said.

"Huh. Guess I haven't been paying attention to what I've been eating lately." He looked down at himself. "It doesn't look bad, does it?"

"Don't worry, you're still gorgeous." I kissed him reassuringly before continuing. "But with your metabolism, it wouldn't take much to go too far. I don't want you to get sick."

"I'll try to be more careful." He wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my chest. "You're too good to me, Sammy."

"Not that good—I should've noticed this sooner."

He lifted his head and gazed at me fiercely. "Hey, don't start that! It ain't your fault I'm such a hot fucking mess! You've been doing an awesome job taking care of me, and I don't want you thinking any differently."

"Okay, okay!" I kissed the smaller man again before reapplying more soap to the washcloth.

We took turns washing each other off before the hot water ran out. I was thrilled to see that my brother was half-hard by the time I finished soaping him up, but I didn't try anything further. Even if I thought he was really ready for anything sexual, I didn't want to take that next step in a crummy motel (even if this place was a bit better than our usual stop). Instead, I listened to him purr contentedly as I rubbed shampoo into his dark gold hair and rinsed it off.

Dean caught my wrist as I stepped out of the tub when our shower was done. "You don't wanna . . . ?" He gestured towards both of our groins, since I was more than half-erect.

I tugged him out of the tub and wrapped a towel around him before replying. "You know I'd like nothing better than to make love to you again. But I don't want to push too fast. And I think it'd be better for both of us to be someplace we're more comfortable in."

He looked around the bathroom and chuckled. "Maybe you're right. It'd be weird trying to get in the mood with Dory staring at my damn ass the whole time."

"I know, right? We'll have plenty of opportunities to see what you're up for when we're at Bobby's. And without worrying about the decorations breaking into 'Under the Sea!'"

After we dressed and checked out of the motel, we pulled into a diner to grab lunch. I slid into the seat next to Dean instead of sitting across from him in the booth. I'd noticed before that he was calmer when I put myself between him and any strangers.

After we put in our orders, I asked, "So, do you think Gabriel is really dead?"

My brother looked up from shredding his straw wrapper. "I dunno. How many times have we thought we'd killed him, only to have him pop up again? And that was when we thought he was only a Trickster."

"I agree—we haven't seen the last of him. But I don't think we can expect any more help from him. Giving us that message in the DVD was his last move in this fight."

"Having an archangel on our side woulda been fucking awesome. But hey, when have we ever had things easy? Still, at least now we got something we can actually work with."

"By the way, how much are we going to tell Adam? Particularly about you and about us? We didn't have much of a chance to talk with him after Van Nuys, but it's going to be unavoidable now," I said.

"Well, I ain't gonna lie to him. The kid's family, the only one we got left now besides Bobby and Cas. Trying to hide the truth from him before got him and his mom eaten, and he deserves better. So we tell him the real deal 'bout what's going down and let him decide if he wants to stay outta it.

"I figure I'll tell him 'bout me when it seems right. It's gonna come out anyways if he listens in when we start planning with Bobby, 'cause I figure we're gonna need to take advantage of all our abilities to take Lucifer down.

"As for us, I don't think it's something we should just drop on him, but I ain't gonna hide either. Bobby's house is the only place where we can really be ourselves, and I ain't letting anyone fucking take that from us, not even our new kid brother. So if he finds out, he finds out, and he'll hafta learn to deal with it."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to get him involved in all this? He's just a civilian," I pointed out.

"Adam's already involved whether he likes it or not, thanks to that asshat Zachariah. And he's the son and brother of hunters, so he's never gonna be safe if he's kept in the fucking dark. He doesn't hafta help us if he doesn't wanna, but he will learn enough to protect himself," the other man said firmly.

Our food showed up at that point. After depositing the plates in front of us, our waitress, a handsome brunette in her early forties, examined both of us with obvious interest.

"I haven't seen either of you around here before. You boys new to the area?" she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

I felt a pang as Dean stiffened beside me. I'd never particularly liked it before when he flirted with other people, but I understood that to him it was merely a harmless way to have fun. To see something he used to enjoy now make him so uneasy saddened me.

Before the waitress could notice my brother's reaction, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and replied, "Sorry, my boyfriend and I are just passing through. We're on our way to visit family in Sioux Falls."

"Oh, too bad. Well, you let me know if you need anything." With that, she moved away.

Dean slumped and leaned his head on my shoulder. "Man, I fucking hate this!"

"It's okay, Dee. This is just going to take time." I pressed a kiss to his temple soothingly. "And you're already doing a lot better now than you were a couple months ago."

"It's still fucking frustrating! Though I suppose you don't mind the end result, Mr. Green-Eyes."

"If you decided to stop hitting on everything that moves out of your own choice, sure. But not like this, you know that," I said a bit stiffly.

"Hey, I was just teasing, Sammy! I know you better than that. Wasn't I telling you earlier how much I appreciate you helping me deal with all this shit?"

"You're right, and I'm sorry. I suppose I should be glad you can joke about any of this! Well, let's finish up quickly and get out of here. We'll both feel better when we're back at Bobby's."

To my relief, he polished off everything on his plate with evident enjoyment. For as much as I used to tease him about his unhealthy eating habits, he never seemed to put on excess weight, lending credence to his claim of a faster than normal metabolism. Though I still wanted to take him to get a full physical to make sure his diet wouldn't eventually lead to an early heart attack. Maybe when this was all over, I'd take him back to Dr. Choi and see what tests she could discreetly run.

Dusk had fallen by the time we pulled into the salvage yard. Bobby greeted us on the porch with salted holy water as always, though this time I was the only one who had to cut himself with silver. Our half-brother Adam watched from the doorway, and his eyebrows rose when Bobby didn't pass the silver knife to Dean.

"You boys eat yet?" Bobby asked. After we both shook our heads, he gestured towards the kitchen. "Come on in then. Figured you two would show up hungry, so I didn't bother putting everything away yet. We've got plenty of fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, and biscuits left, courtesy of the Colonel."

"Sounds awesome, dude!" Dean eagerly loaded up a plate, which I was happy to see.

Bobby kept the conversation relatively light while we were eating, asking about the regular hunts we'd been on since he'd seen us last. Once our fingers and plates were licked clean, however, he said, "Leave the dishes for later. You said you had something big to tell me when you called on the way here."

"Lemme see if I can get a hold of Cas first, so we don't hafta explain everything twice. Why don't you guys get comfy in the study until I get back," Dean suggested before going outside.

"Might as well clean up while we're waiting. Adam, care to help me out?" I asked.

He nodded and grabbed the cartons off the table. While he put the food away, I started rinsing off the dishes and silverware. We worked in silence for a few minutes, and then I turned to him. "Have you been doing okay here?"

Adam shrugged. "For the most part, I guess. Bobby's been pretty nice, and he's tried explaining some of this supernatural stuff to me. But I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing now. Everyone back home thinks I'm dead, right? So I can't just go back to my old life. And apparently I'm not really supposed to fight the Devil either—I was just bait to trap Dean."

"Believe me, this is the safest place for you right now. Zachariah may be dead, but Michael has plenty of other goons that won't hesitate to hurt you to get to us. But Bobby has this house warded six ways to Sunday, so nothing can get you in here. And once this is over, we can see what we can do. Maybe figure out some way to prove you're not legally dead, or set you up with a new identity somewhere. You've just got to sit tight until then."

Dean came back inside then, followed by Castiel. We all went into the study, where Bobby had tumblers of "hunter's helper" poured. Dean and I sat together on the bed in the bay window, while Adam took one of the armchairs. Cas remained standing, looking more awkward than usual. He had a talisman that allowed him to pass through the angel-proofing on the house, but being surrounded by the Enochian wards still made him uncomfortable.

Once everyone was settled, Bobby put his glass down. "Alright, so what's the big deal?"

"We think we have a way to deal with Lucifer. Not to kill him, but to trap him back in the Cage," I answered. "We ran into Gabriel last night."

"A buncha other gods had this Hotel California thing going on, with the main goal being to trap us and then use us as fucking bargaining chips or some shit," Dean added.

"Wait, other gods?" Adam looked confused.

"Yeah, Mercury, Odin, Baldur, Kali, Ganesh, Baron Samedi, and some other weird dudes like that. Most of 'em weren't very fucking impressive—too busy squabbling or trying to snack on the human guests."

"I thought they were just myths!"

"No, they're all quite real. Most of them aren't very powerful now, relatively speaking, because not too many people worship the Greek, Norse, or Egyptian pantheons any more. But they're still around," I said. "Anyways, Gabriel showed up in the guise of Loki and helped us get out of there. Before we left, he gave us a message—that the Cage is still out there, and it's possible to put Lucifer back in it. To open it, we need four keys—specifically, the rings of the four Horsemen."

Cas spoke up. "Where is my brother now?"

"Sorry, Cas, but I don't think he made it. Lucifer showed up at the hotel and killed most of the gods. Gabriel distracted him long enough for us to escape, but he never came out," I told him.

"But hey, we're also talking 'bout the damn Trickster here. Faking his own death is the dude's fucking specialty. So he could still be out there, man," Dean pointed out.

The angel appeared troubled. "I suppose we will have to wait and see if he re-emerges. I assume though that even if he survived, he is unlikely to help us further."

"That's what we figure too. If he does show up before this is all over, great, but we shouldn't count on it," I responded.

"Sounds like the next step is to figure out where Pestilence and Death are so we can nab their rings," Bobby said. "You two got real lucky running into War and Famine on what you thought were regular hunts, but we can't rely on that again. Especially with all the chaos Lucifer is causing—we could waste months trying to sift out reports on what might be the Horsemen's activities versus what's him or his other flunkies."

"I may have an idea about that," I said. "I suggest we summon Crowley, the demon who gave us back the Colt. It's in his best interests to help us again if he still wants Lucifer gone, and as the supposed 'King of the Crossroads,' he has access to all sorts of information."

"Assuming we can trust the smarmy sonofabitch! Last time all his damn intel did was get Ellen and Jo killed," Dean objected. His anger now was a relief compared to the early days after the assault, when any mention of demons or Hell was liable to trigger a flashback.

"Of course we don't trust him—he's a fucking demon! But we can slap a truth spell on him when we summon him, and this time we verify anything he gives us before we act on it. Unless anyone has another suggestion?" I looked around the room.

"Though I am loath to work with a demon, I have to agree with Sam. This Crowley is more likely to have the knowledge we need than anyone else," Cas said. "If there is anything you require for the rituals, I can try to procure it for you. I am still not at full strength, so I am limited in how much I can travel."

"I'll check my supplies and let you know," Bobby said. "But, assuming this demon actually can get us the locations, getting the rings is only the first half of the problem. We still gotta figure out how to get to Old Scratch and then shove him back in his hole."

"Well, I've got the beginnings of a plan for that. But . . . uh, you ain't gonna like parts of it." Dean rubbed the back of his neck before continuing.

"First we find someplace where there'll be no risk of collateral damage if things go sideways, and we ward the crap outta it to prevent any damn angelic or demonic party-crashers. Then we lure fucking Lucifer there with what he wants most right now—Sam. Tell him that you're considering saying, 'Yes' and wanna talk to him. Only the you that'll meet him in the spot we've prepared won't be you—it'll be me."

"How is that any better than Sam risking himself, ya damn fool?" Bobby demanded. "You'll be virtually identical to your brother at that point, so what's to stop Lucifer from trying to wear you to the prom?"

"Remember when we had that discussion on how could I be the Michael Sword despite what I am? You both tried to convince me that it was more than just my genes, but also who I was and what I've done that qualifies me to be his vessel. Well, the same shit applies here. Even if I shift into Sam, I'm still me underneath, and I'm no more Satan's perfect fucking bitch than Adam here is Michael's. And even if he still tries, possession ain't instantaneous, and I can shift back to me or into someone else faster than he can take me over."

"That's not the only problem with this, though," I said. "What about the reasons why you don't want to shift into someone else, like how the other memories and personality mess you up?"

My brother put his hand against my face and looked straight into my eyes. "This would be different. There's nothing 'bout you that could hurt me, Sammy."

"Hold on, what are you guys talking about? How can Dean turn into Sam?" Adam interjected.

Dean turned away from me and sighed. "I'm sorry we never had a chance to discuss this before, kid. To put it bluntly, I ain't human—I'm a shapeshifter. I can take on the form and memories of anyone I've touched."

"You—you mean like the things that—that killed me and my mom?" Our half-brother looked alarmed.

"Hell no! Ghouls can only take on the shape of their last victim. And I don't fucking eat people!"

"Shifters aren't inherently evil," I added. "But most of them are still dangerous because they're mentally unstable, usually due to a combination of an alienated childhood and being unable to handle all the extra memories. Dean's different, though, because he was brought up by someone who accepted what he is, and he avoids taking on other people's forms and the baggage than comes with them."

"So you're not really my brother then?"

"No, I am—maybe not by birth, but definitely by blood and by upbringing. There was a Dean Winchester born to John and Mary four years before Sam, but he died the same night Mom was killed. A few months later, Dad found me on a hunt and got me to take on his dead kid's identity. I've been Dean for nearly twenty-seven years now, and it's not just some damn cover—it's who I am. I was raised as John's son and Sam's brother, and that means I'm your brother too," Dean said firmly.

"And the rest of you are just okay with this?"

"Damn straight! I helped raise your brothers, and they're both good men. It don't matter than Dean ain't human. He's still the same guy who stuck his neck out and saved your damn life, so don't you forget that!" Bobby replied.

"I too am more than 'okay' with Dean," Cas added. "I rescued him from Hell because he is the Righteous Man, regardless of his species. And being his friend taught me to think for myself and decide what is truly right."

"So, we all clear 'bout this, kid?" Bobby asked, then waited for Adam's tentative nod. "Now, to get back on target—is there more to this plan of yours?"

"Yeah, there is. But this is the part you're really not gonna like. My task's gonna be to distract Lucifer, keep him too busy to notice anyone else there. Sam's job will be to toss down the rings, open the door to the Cage, and push the bastard in." Dean hesitated. "Thing is . . . in order to do all that, especially without getting caught . . . uh, he's gonna hafta use his powers."

"Now, I know you don't mean for your brother to start drinking demon blood again, right?"

"Of course not, Bobby! That last detox nearly fucking killed him! Ain't no way I'd put him through that shit again."

I found my voice after gaping at my brother. "But Dean, dude, you know I haven't been able to use my abilities on my own since we killed Azazel. I've only been able to do stuff since then when I'm on demon blood, and even then it's been limited to exorcising and sometimes killing demons."

"I don't think that's entirely true, man. You didn't wanna use 'em after Yellow-Eyes, so they went dormant. But they've still been there. Remember what that bitch Ruby said at the end, that it wasn't the blood, that it was you the whole time? And . . . and there's more."

"What do you mean?"

Dean hesitated again before responding. "You've always smelled a little different than other people. When we were younger I didn't know what it meant—just thought it was a part of you. I noticed it was stronger when we started hunting again after Stanford, when you were having the fucking visions and shit. But it wasn't until we met Max and Andy and the other 'special' kids that I started to figure it out, 'cause they had the same scent. After we ganked Azazel, that difference in your scent lessened, back down to like when you were a kid, but it never went away. It did get stronger again when you were hooked on that damn skank's blood."

"So, what—I smell like a fucking demon or something?" My skin began to crawl.

"No, no, nothing like that! It ain't really a bad scent. You kinda smell like that Jesse kid, though not as strong," he hastily explained. "Though you were starting to stink like a possessed guy when you were hopped up on fucking demon blood. I shoulda realized sooner what was going on then, but I thought the sulfur odor I kept running into was just part of the damn Hell flashbacks, ya know?

"Anyways, 'cause your scent's always been like that, I think what the Yellow-Eyed Demon did to you and the others when you were babies changed you. Your powers are a permanent part of you, whether you use 'em or not. So you should be able to draw on 'em again, even without demon blood or shit like that."

"Dean is correct," Castiel said. "Azazel was a Prince of Hell, one of the first demons created and one of Lucifer's great generals. His blood was potent enough that even a small amount fed to you when you were a malleable infant was enough to alter you on a fundamental level. You have not been entirely human since you were six months old, Sam. The demon blood you ingested last year amplified the change, but you do not require it to access your abilities."

"Oh God! Dean, why didn't you ever tell me?" I cried.

"Like I said, for the longest time I didn't know that your scent meant anything. By the time I did, you were already worried that you were gonna turn into Dark Willow and hafta be put down, and no fucking way was I gonna add to that. And there really was no good time after that to bring it up. You were so relieved when your damn powers went away after Yellow-Eyes' death, and I didn't wanna ruin that. There wasn't any point in telling you when you were with Ruby if it didn't get you away from the bitch. Then you were so down on yourself afterwards, and telling you woulda only made you feel shittier. Besides, if I tried to tell you before, I woulda had to tell you how I knew."

"What about after I found out about you? What happened to not keeping secrets from each other?"

"I wasn't intentionally trying to keep it a secret at that point, I really wasn't! To be honest, I'd pushed it to the back of my mind a while back, since there wasn't anything I could fucking do 'bout it. It wasn't until when we were driving here today, and I was trying to think of how to use the rings, that I remembered the damn thing. You gotta believe that I'd never hide something like this from you on purpose, not anymore!" My brother looked at me pleadingly.

"I—I've got to get some air!" I stood and staggered out of the room and through the front door.