This is the second part of the Demon Hunters series. I highly recommend that you read the first part, Demon Hunter, first, if you are going to at all. Otherwise, this'll pretty much spoil it from the get-go (also, some things will probably make more sense with the first part). That said, enjoy!

Sooner Rather Than Later (prologue)

Sam finally tells him, and he loses it.

When Dean told Sam that he might eventually actually approve of the blood-drinking, he was mostly trying to get out of the cure. Even if he had believed that it could happen at some point, well, he had expected said point to have come at a much later time.

But Sam tells him (late, so late, why didn't he tell him sooner!) and he explodes. It's a good thing that Sam is able to defend himself, although Dean doesn't think so at the time. He is furious, but after the first outburst, he is also startled enough by that rage, to take himself away from anyone else.

Dean ends up in one of the lower parts of the bunker – some part of the archives. It's dark and quiet, and it gives him a chance to think.

The absoluteness of his anger gives him pause. Not because it made him lash out, but because it has nothing to do with his being a demon. He is almost sure he would have felt just as strongly, had he still been human.

Dean might just have pointed a gun at Sam when he found out, if he had still been human. In an odd roundabout way, Sam was probably safer with him being a demon when he threw this particular tantrum.

But Sam... Dean can't believe him, can't believe it. Dean has been back in the bunker for well over a week now. He and Sam has been out on another hunt, a simple salt and burn, and Sam went after a demon on his own a couple of days back. And yet Sam didn't tell him anything. Not until now.

Dean finally, finally pulled himself together to bring it up. He had tossed his phone when he first skipped out (and he really tries not to think of that, those first few minutes, what happened right then), and he hasn't got any way to reach out for himself. So he finally mans up enough to talk to Sam.

Sam's in the library, reading something or other. Dean thinks its leisure reading, but the lines are starting to blur, so he is mostly basing that on the fact that they haven't got a case at the moment.

"Sam?" he waits for his brother to look up, and takes a deep breath, "Have you heard anything from Cas?"

Dean knows his brother well enough to recognise the guilty look; it is (unfortunately) not a new expression on Sam's face. But it is the accompanying panic and pain that makes Dean's heart hammer harshly in his chest.

Sam gestures to the seat across the table, and the idea that he has to sit down for whatever it is Sam has to say doesn't help the hyperactive tattoo being beat in Dean's chest at all.

"Sam," it's a growl now, still human, but audibly displeased. Sam sighs, but he doesn't fiddle. It makes Dean suspect he has been preparing for this conversation.

"Cas lost his grace—"

"I know," still a growl.

"—and then he took care of it, by stealing another angel's grace," Sam pauses, but Dean just waits. He knows this. "Apparently, that's not something one just does," Sam stops again.

Dean lasts a couple of seconds before he barks, "Sam."

Sam seems to realise that drawing things out isn't going to make it any easier. "I've spoken to him about once a week, when you... when I was looking for you." Sam was looking for him. Somehow that seems to exclude Castiel. Dean doesn't know how he feels about that. "Cas' borrowed grace was burning out; he didn't have much energy to spare." Dean has often considered the possibility that his little brother might be able to read minds. "Anyway, a couple of weeks back, I missed a call. Then the week after, I found you, but we were working that case with the godddess, and I didn't know what was going to happen. Then there was the cure and the not-cure, and now you're here but you're still a demon, and I have no idea what to say to him, if he calls."

"You haven't called Cas in, what, a month? Even though you used to talk every week?"

"He hasn't called me, either!"

"Of course he hasn't! He wouldn't want to intrude. Help, yes, but if he can't... Sam, you said the grace was burning out. What's that mean?" Dean can feel the unease creep back. He's heard nothing yet that warranted his sitting down.

"It makes him ill. He was getting weaker and weaker for each week."

"And when it is gone?" Dean's voice is deceptively calm.

"He's dying, Dean."

Dean doesn't think, just reacts on his own incredulity, "He's dying and you can't even fucking call?!" Sam collides with the wall behind him, before Dean realises what is happening. He would have followed, have been all up in his brother's face if not for a different, opposing force holding him back.

"Dean!" Sam snaps, still struggling against the wall, but on his own two feet and breathing freely.

Dean glares at him, and then his perception slides. He can see not Sam's blood, but the flow of it around his body, and not his soul, but the light it shines with. He can see all the weak points of the living being in front of him, and something dark and wild inside of him screams for him to wreak havoc on every single soft spot.

Dean gets out of there.

A/N: I'm starting an internship tomorrow, and between that and actual work, I won't have that much time. That means this will be updated once a week - alternatingly Saturday or Sunday, depending on which day I have off that particular week. Next update will be Saturday the 6th of February.