Samuel Matthew Winchester.
One of Azazel's children.
The Boy King.
Dean stood in the middle of the crossroads, face to face with a demon, thinking of his brother laying unmoving on the mattress back at the house.
"Dean," she said, smiling. "It is so, so good to see you."
She stepped forward. "I mean it. I mean, look at you," she crooned. "Got your family killed, all alone in the world. It's too sweet."
She smirked.
"You got to give me a moment," she said, getting up close and personal, only a few inches from Dean's face. "Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."
Dean didn't bat an eye. "I could send you straight back to hell."
She shrugged. "You could." The demon walked around him, and Dean turned his head a fraction to the left. "But you won't."
"And I know why." Dean huffed. "Oh yeah?"
She looked up at him. "Following in Daddy's footsteps. You want to make a deal."
"Little Sammy back from the dead, and let me guess, your own soul in return?"
Dean swallowed. "There are about a hundred demons out there who would love it get their hands on it. You just have to bring Sam back. Just give me 10 years."
She raised an eyebrow, and Dean's frown deepened. "That's the same deal you give everybody else."
"You're not everybody else. Besides, I don't know that you'd want little Sammy back anyway."
Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"
She smiled, a real one that time. "Sam's dead. But you know that. But where is he?"
Dean frowned in confusion.
She sighed in annoyance. "Sammy's in Hell, Dean."
Dean's eyes widened and his lips parted just a fraction.
"But," she chided. "It's not so simple. You know Sammy's special. We all do. He's the Boy King."
Dean swallowed. "He's what?"
"The Boy King. Heir to the throne of Hell. And, uh...since he so special, he was immediately turned when he arrived."
She looked gleeful.
Dean exhaled shakily. "What do you mean 'turned'?" he asked in a low voice.
The demon laughed, loud and full. "What do I mean?! He's a demon, you moron. Your precious little Sammy is black-eyed now."
Dean shook his head, squaring his shoulders. "You're lying." She grinned. "Am I?"
"Demons lie. Bring him back."
She shrugged. "It's a risky bet."
Dean swallowed. "Five years."
"No."
"Four."
"Nope."
"Three. Final offer."
She rolled her eyes. "Tell you what. I'll give you one. You try to squirm out of it; even look for a way out: Sam drops cold and he's dragged back to hell."
Dean froze.
"Done."
They kissed.
Sam's eyes flew open.
Pitch black.
Dean rounded the corner. He froze as his gaze landed on his brother standing at the foot of the bed, frowning.
"Sam," he breathed. Dean immaediately crossed he distance between them and pulled his brother's lanky frame into his embrace. Sam twitched, then blinked. He sat down on the bed. His hazel eyes flickered up to meet Dean's.
Dean frowned. "Sam?"
Sam raised an eyebrow. "I know what you've done," he said. His voice was low, but carried no resemblance of concern.
Dean swallowed. "What?" Sam looked his up and down. "I can almost smell it," he rasped, his eye fluttering closed and his breathed in deeply through his nose.
Sam's eye snapped open to reveal the true black one. "The bitch was right you know."
Dean looked at him with wide eyes and barely parted lips. Sam smirked, getting to his feet.
"It's funny, really. I turned as soon as I touched the fire."
Dean flinched. "You're not my brother," he told him. Sam's smirk fell, and his deep eyes seemed to grow heavy. "I am, Dean."
His brother swallowed hard. "No, you're not. And now what are you going to do? Kill me?"
Sam frowned. "No, Dean. I couldn't kill you."
"Why?"
"The reason remains the same. You're my brother."
Dean looked over at Sam, who was staring out the window of the car.
"So, what's it like being a demon?"
Sam looked down momentarily, before his eyes snapped up to look at Dean's face. "It's...different."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "No."
Dean let it go.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked softly, tone a lot less hostile than it was a moment ago.
Dean turned onto a gravel back road. "I figure we should swing by Bobby's." Sam snorted, and Dean spared his brother a quick glance. "Dean, Bobby will exorcise me in an instant. Besides, it's not like I can really go far with the traps."
"We'll try to explain, Sam. It's all we can do. Speaking of which, why do demons fight so hard to stop from going to hell? Aren't they like, the staff or something."
Sam deadpanned.
"No."