Author's note: Hello everybody! I'm super excited to finally be posting again, especially this fandom. OMG how I love this, the boys, the car, the obvious Destial ;D. I took advantage of their lack of fourth wall and just let myself on in.

Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural. Only the turns these stories take from Kripke's canon and Saphira.
The whole cast and crew from beginning to end show their appreciation to the fans for their love of what they do. So what follows is my thanks to them for creating the world and people I've come to love so much.

But because I love them does not mean I like what Kripke does to my boys. I've had to stop watching half way into season 10 (last episode I saw was Executioner's Song) because I didn't feel like going down the path to Broken Heart Syndrome, yes that's a real thing, more then I already was. I, of course, will catch up because I'm a glutton for punishment in the form of Hot Texans turned Kansas hunters and their amazing and heart moving bond.

Till then please be as unspoiler as you can in reviews, and if I do not capture the characters right or make mistakes plz tell me, also if you have suggestions on how to make the transition in this stories more believable and flow right, as I have no beta and proofread these myself plz review.

Alrighty I think that about covers it, here we go.

S*P*N* S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Then

May 26, 2008 New Orleans, Louisiana

S*P*N* S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Moonlight filtered through the gapes in-between the tangle of old cedar branches overhead. They overlapped their neighbors so much one could hardly tell which branches belong to which base as the roots sank deep into the water of the bayou.

In the maze of trees, roots, and gators stood a small house, built from the same wood that surrounded it, making it blend in seamlessly. Not that anyone that would call it a house ventured this far out into the bayou which was one of the main reasons the owner built it here.

Standing on the edge of the dock, a woman with black hair stood looking out over the water. The lack of light, natural or artificial, did not hamper her gaze. She was always rather owl-like in the night hours, which is to say her tendency to blink was very low, not that her head turned 270 degrees in either direction.

A fact that always disappointed her. If her head could turn that way it had the added advantage of scaring the crap out of anyone that spotted her and help her survey the area. But she more than compensated for her dismal ninety degrees.

Quiet, she thought. It's getting quiet again.

This was not a quiet that meant an absence of sound, but a quiet like stillness, a lull in the very earth 6 billion people walked on. Like a giant cravenness maul was just now unhinging to take a breath that would swallow any and everything that was sucked into it. Then anything that did not recover fast enough to try and crawl out was promptly smashed between its monstrous teeth in a crack of bone and a spray of blood.

War was on the horizon just waiting for the first spark of sunrise to send it roaring into a devastating blaze.

Eight months ago, even here deep in her bayou home; Saphira had felt the ripples of the devils gate being opened, saw the swirling black swarms of meatless demons as they writhed through the air searching for a place to play. The demons must have had a wonderful time crashing and clawing their way out and over each other.

A long time ago she would have fought against the horde and stopped their deadly spread of darkness in the hearts of humans. Now…now what was the point when no one cared if you won or lost everything, if you broke bones or were bled dry?

Her right hand found its way to the leather band on her left wrist, spinning in around and around. What did it matter anymore? She had lost everything to time; her home, her family, and friends. The only one who had survived the passage of time with her was her father and he was always off pulling pranks. He came around and tried his best to cheer her up, put that light she had when she was a child back but really she was already done.

A few days before the demons broke out her dad got weird. He broke off mid joke, a feat that had never been done before, and a sudden agony washed over the whole of his being. Then within the same day he turned homicidally angry, leaving her with a growled he had work to do excuse before disappearing. So, yeah, dad went AWOL a lot.

And she was done being hurt. Done making friends just to lose them, done feeling adrift in a world that had forgotten her and all she did just so they could play the happy fool. She was done, done. Take it and leave her alone.

Of course when one declares to the universe, however silently, that you give up on a lifelong goal, ambition, etc. It feels the need to through it right smack in your face. And for Saphira it did so with the words "Son of bitch!" being shouted out over the water followed by a loud splash.

S*P*N* S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Now

"Dude, not for nothing but your navigating sucks," Dean candidly informed his brother who had him getting back alley bayou mud all up in his baby's undercarriage.

And why was he getting mud on his car? Because Sam said there was 'Someone he needed to see' in this sludge hole. Normally Dean would have demanded more information about the why, the where, and the who, but Sam had been off since Broward County.

The full extent of what went down between Sam and the Trickster was still fuzzy. Mostly because prying the truth out of Sam was like pulling teeth…from a T-rex…or a raptor…or Jaws… or some blood chilling combination of the three.

For Dean it started on the Wednesday that followed a hundred Tuesdays. When Sam pretty much swallowed him in a hug; in fact the only part of him that wasn't buried in some part of Sam was his head, which was hooked over his shoulder. Even if they weren't the touchy feely kind of family, the hug still would have caught him off-guard.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" he asked stunned at the ferocity of the hug. He brought his arms up to steady himself and he felt... was that a tremor? Yes, it was. His little brother was freaking shaking against him.

"Enough." God his voice sounded like he been screaming for so long there was hardly any breath in him. Pulling away he didn't go far, just enough to look at him. "Wait. What do you remember?"

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. Remember catching up with the Trickster. That's about it." He held back a wince at his own understatement.

Watching that douchebag throw his death, the one that was coming in a few months, in Sam's face, the number of blood covered stakes he wanted to shove into the guy increased with each word. Sam was shaking then too, but not from so many repressed emotions like he was now. When he was cornering the Trickster in the alley there was only one; rage. Panting heavily, shifting feet, readjusting his grip on the Tricksters throat. The stake was just for show, Sam would have happily torn him open whether he had that or not and it was the real challenge to not to.

Listening to that dick taunt Sam, realizing his whole joke was watching Dean die over and over again. Dean watched his brother die once and he almost ate his gun. God only knew how Sam was functioning this much after a hundred, but he always was stronger than Dean.

The Trickster, unfortunately, was a master at avoiding detection. Stronger or not, there was a limit to how bad you could push someone and Dean had a front row seat to his brothers end. How many days had Sam been forced to watch Dean die before he figured it out? How soon would he have figured it out if he wasn't going out of his mind watching what was going to be the worst day of his life happen every day and not be able to stop it?

Sure Dean had acted like his death was nothing in the beginning, told Sam he would have to let him go because there was no way to get him out of the deal. Sam had responded with his usual stubborn denial. Searching everything he could get his hands on for answers.

That Ruby bitch wanted Sam for something and fed him some crap line that she could save him. Even if she could, if it hadn't been a lie, she wouldn't have done it. She wanted Sam to roll over and beg at her feet like a grateful mutt and no way in Hell was that happening while Dean was around.

The next few months wasn't about getting him to stay, it was finding a way to keep his brother out the bitches claws when he was gone.

The Trickster had let them go. And it put Dean was on edge. It was never that simple.

Then when Sam woke up he was a shaky, wrung out mess of a man. This was not the brother that decided if Dean was leaving him in a year he was going to keep his memory alive by turning into him. This was his little kid brother who had a nightmare and needed his big brother to tell him it wasn't real and to hold him.

Their usual banter fall flat on both ends. Dean because his head was going a mile a minute trying to come up with a way to keep out of Hell's playpen and Sam from being a plaything and Sam was just so out of it every response was strained and brittle. His usual mountain of a brother looked like a soft breeze would break him to pieces and then scatter the remains.

Suddenly Sam was all gung-ho to get to New Orleans like a horde of demons was after them. Since the idea seemed to finally bring him out of his curled up withdrawn spot in the front seat…

Bring on the bourdon!

S*P*N* S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Sam wasn't entirely sure he was doing the smart thing going back to Louisiana. Or just there. Did it count as going back if he never technically was there in a timeline that now never existed? Ugh where was Doctor Brown when you needed him or the British guy in the blue mailbox or whatever?

So many things were up to chance. Number one being that the person he was going to see even remembered him. This was gonna be a problem if he showed up on her dock and she had no idea who he was or why he was there.

She hadn't been that put off before and he had been downright jackass at the time. 'Course he had been getting his ass kicked by a diwata, an elemental spirit who was pissed off at a local gang for dumping bodies around its tree. That thing had tossed him up and down the bayou; there was not one single part of him that hadn't met a tree at high speed.

Finally the diwata flung him into a tree with such force it startled a curse out of him. Colliding against the tree had knocked the wind out of him and before he could even think of trying to gasp it back he fall into the bayou.

The water was so dark and cold that when he got back control of his limbs he couldn't figure out which way was up. Getting the breath knocked out didn't help, if anything it exasperated it more. Chest burning for air, eyes stinging from the water, limbs growing heavier as time went on without breaking the surface.

He wasn't sure when he closed his eyes or when he went unconscious. One moment he was fighting for air in the water the next he was laid out on couch so long it accommodated his size with ease and getting his first blurry eyed look at Saphira.

Or really just her eyes.

His head felt like it was full of cotton yet did nothing to dull the sledgehammer pounding against his skull. His throat felt dry and cracked, and everything from the neck down was tingling heavy. And in his fevered state his vision was blurred out in serious nearsightedness. So the first thing he could manage to focus clearly on was something big and blue and old and close.

In a surge of leftover adrenaline from drowning he moved to defend himself. Within a second his whole body, all six foot five of him, seized up, his body screaming at him 'Shouldn't have done that, idiot!'

There he was, no idea where he was, helpless and weak as a newborn at the mercy of whatever creature was leaning towards him. He was down to basic primal instinct, the constant hunting, the Mystery Spot, Dean dying, it had stripped him bare and skinned him raw. Everything in his being told him what was in front of him was powerful, maybe even more so then the Trickster, ancient and fearsome. Something that could see him dead in a second even if he weren't laid up.

But she didn't kill him.

Instead, she leaned in and gently pushed his hair that had fallen in his face back while laying a cool towel on his head that felt like heaven all the while making soft soothing sounds.

Now he felt the softness, the nurturing, and the protectiveness that flooded in and over his sickness like a blanket fresh out of the drier. How could something feel so dangerous yet also feel so safe. It was almost like that spark he felt when he and Dean had gone back home and he had finally met his mother and she smiled at him even though she was dead because of him. Warmth from the purest and simplest of loves.

His head swam at the overload, he felt like he had run around the world when in fact he had barely moved. He needed to sleep but sleep was never restful not since that first Tuesday, always in fits and spurts and never peaceful.

"Shh, I gotcha. You're safe." The voice said and he really needed to work on remembering when his eyes shut. But the weird thing was as he finally gave up that last bit of wakefulness, he believed the voice. Here, wherever that was, was safe.

That was a rare feeling, one he wasn't quite ready to let go of just yet. Not with everything in his life was utter turmoil.

S*P*N* S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Dean considered himself a good brother. Here he was pushing his baby through piles of mud looking for someone who might hit the reset on his brother mental state. But it was because of all the mud on his ride that all semblance of gratitude was dissolving in a mental tirade of 'who the hell would want to live out here if they didn't hate cars so much?!'

Just when he was about to call this whole thing off and head back to give Baby a serious wash down, Sam informed him they were there.

How he could tell Dean had no idea, it looked like the same bunch of trees and water they had been driving by for the past hour. There was nothing there. Dean was beginning to worry Sam was more cracked then he thought.

"Alright, let's see what's got your panties in a twist."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said, realizing he may have worried over the wrong thing. Saphira, whether she remembered or not, was a nice person, this was proved by her taking him in and still helping him even after he snapped and started throwing things at her head. Coming up here he wondered how do you walk up to a person and say "Hey, I don't know if you remember me and if you do I know the last time we saw each other I kind of threw things at your head but could you do me a favor?" Yeah, he didn't see that turning out too well.

Now it seemed he should have figured out how to tell Dean the rest of the story behind the Mystery Spot and more about who Saphira was without him inevitably blowing up. Dean was an amazing hunter and wicked smart despite his goofiness, not that he'd ever agree with either, but he was a little bias about what and who he hunted. Up until a year ago he labored under the motto if it wasn't human he ganked them. Then he realized that some monsters could be nicer than most humans, that some monsters had enough in them to fight for some semblance of humanity.

How the hell was he going to make him stay out in his car while he talked to Saphira after how clingy he had been? Dean was hovering on a regular day, now between him dying and Sam having a breakdown there was no way he'd sit this one out.

"What? Your bayou mistress shy or something?" Dean teased.

Or something. Shy wasn't a word that went with her. Timid, sometimes, and only to test the waters. Once the waters were warm she dove right in. The mistress comment, though, brought a rare smile to his lips.

Knock, knock.

The sudden noise startled a squeak, yes, a squeak, don't let him tell you otherwise, out of Dean, and gave Sam a good jolt as well.

The person was hidden from view by the partition between the side and front window. How they had managed to sneak up on them was mystery.

Dean could see the hand that had touched his Baby. The hand pointed downward, signaling that the owner wanted the window down.

Warily, he did so, if only to tell the guy to screw off and that he had a gun.

The words, however, died on the tip of his tongue when he saw the person. Pretty sure his heart stopped too and instead went up, not down like his deal claimed.

A girl leaned down and folded her arms on the sill. The girl, in Dean humble opinion, was Gorgeous. Really, it was a wonder he hadn't run across her face in a Playboy, Victoria Secret or something.

Her skin was like cream, her face hide sharp bones smoothed over with a soft and friendly plush of skin. Her hair had a slight wave to it; it wasn't so much curly as it seemed incapable of falling in a straight line down her back. Black as the midnight sky it framed two of the brightest and deepest blue eyes that danced with mischief.

Da-mn. This was so worth the mud on his car. Sorry Baby.

Dean would have been happy to just set there and stare at her, in her tight black jeans and peach blouse with crossbones embroidery at the neck and wrists, until the hell hounds came for him. Hell for like thirty seconds he forgot they were even coming for his ass soon.

"Hey, Sam been a while." She smiled over at him, her eyes dancing with some untold joke. Her voice matched her exterior; smooth, musical, the barest hint of an accent that couldn't be placed, all adding to her mystical aura.

"Yeah," he answered lamely. A month on her couch and that was the best he could come up with. Granted talking wasn't something they did much of in their time together, really it was all a mutual staring contest.

He looked at her like a puzzle, trying to fit all the little pieces together, and when he thought he was making progress he'd find a whole new pile of pieces under the table to add in.

On the outside she looked young, like around his age, but her eyes told the truth. They were deep and old, having seen a lot of things. The fall and rise of cities and people were in those eyes. Ancient, that's what she was. And…odd, very odd.

She looked back at him like he was someone precious to her. Like the more she looked at him the more her mind convinced her he had once been something to her, something she had lost and was afraid of losing again because this time would be devastating. How that was possible he had no idea.

Her being less than human was not as much a problem for him as it would have been if Dean were there. Sam was a Special Child, an unfortunate person who when they were six months old had demon blood dripped into their mouths that would give them powers around their twenty second birthdays and sometimes had their mothers burned to death on the ceiling on their rooms. He was one of the ones whose mothers burned. When his powers were coming in he felt like all kinds of freak and tainted. So no, he wasn't one to hold genes and biology against someone unless they used that as an excuse for the evil they did with it.

But it was good to know he wasn't alone in his freakiness. All the other Special Children were dead, even him for a time, that was why his brother was in the mess he was in. Like he didn't already have the guilt of holding Dean back from life to deal with. It was always Sam first, Dean later…maybe. He almost hated Dean for his lack of self-worth.

For once he wanted to be the one that came through for Dean, he deserved to have someone who cared enough to protect him like he did with complete strangers. With any lucky he was looking that person that could help him with that.

Her gaze moved to Dean. "You must be Dean. Heard about you."

"Hope it was good," he joked.

"The best," she assured. "You boys gonna come in?"

Dean turned to his brother giving him a look that read, 'we're going. Don't argue.'

Sam still wasn't convinced Dean should be around her for any amount of time, the truth was bound to come out, both the gaps in his story and who she was. The best he could hope for was a slow trickle as opposed to the whole damn dam breaking apart. With a Winchester track record it was likely to be the latter. But there was no getting out of it now. It was all moving too fast to try and spin it another way.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

The dock leading to her house was hidden. The brackets looked like branches fallen from the trees. Unless you were standing right on top of it you couldn't see it from land; a film of water covered it all. The lights from the house looked like fireflies in the swaying branches. Girl knew her camouflage

The inside was like Bobby's house only it had none of its rickety, worn down dusty status and all of its books covering every lore in every language, artifacts, weird gadgetries, and items for spellwork. Only they were off to the sides, clearly not a main focus in the owner's life but important enough to be within eyeshot.

The walls were white underneath the Marti gras necklace beads that strung across the walls from ceiling to floor. Dean was liking her more and more. Usually he'd be laying on his best charms but she only had eyes for Sam. Good for him, kid had a rough life being the Marilyn of their Munster family; the last three years especially had worn on him. If he could bag this blue eyed goddess he'd have no problem being defeated.

Though for the life of him Dean couldn't figure out how Sam knew someone in New Orleans that Dean himself didn't. Figured it had to be in his college days, spring break. Maybe one of his friends or Jess dragged him down because Sam wouldn't party on his own. His brother had always been a nerd like that.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

There was a marked improvement, Saphira noted, about Sam from when that last saw each other. Even after he got over the fever and his muscles lost their stiffness there had been a pale and waxiness to his skin and a weakness in his limbs.

He ate what was put in front of him methodically with a thinly veiled hostility as if he was substituting whatever he was after with that poor piece of chicken he was violently chewing. It almost made her laugh if she didn't think he'd turn that burning anger on her at the sound. His eyes rarely blinked, staring off at some far out point only he could see. The guy was broken, the body still warm but whoever lived inside was long gone.

So this is what I look like, she thought to herself watching him one day.

She had saved him because despite the detachment that had grown in the years she could never turn her back on those that needed help in front of her. But fishing him out the second she touched him, the second she laid eyes on him, a feeling came over her. A feeling she thought she'd never feel again. A feeling she thought she lost on the worst day of her life when she was only ten, the day she lost everything that had meant anything to her.

Sure she found her father and he had become her rock, her savoir from the rapids that threatened to drown her for a time before she decided to learn to save herself, like she had become his. But they could never replace what they had lost. It didn't mean they didn't fiercely love each other but in the darkest parts of their minds that didn't want them truly happy always whispered the other was inferior to what they had before.

They had done what any sound minded immortals do when dealing with problems, drowned them in distractions and habits till they forgot them.

In that moment holding a water-logged body against hers she felt it just the same as though not a day had pasted.

Family. True real blood related family.

No, it wasn't possible all of hers was dead, gone and buried. There was nothing left. But that didn't make it go away. It was a siren song to comfort him, aid all that ailed him and fix it however she could. True she helped complete strangers before but none had felt so necessary as this.

Maybe she was just projecting, after millennia of being alone the want and desire for it had finally taken its toll. But when he open his eyes and looked at her through his fever clogged vision all excuses crumbled away. Why or how didn't matter, what mattered was he was here and so was she. And she was looking a version of herself. Lost and beaten down, strength fading from exhaustion, once an awesome power now traded away for a good deed.

Feeling or no he didn't need another responsibility or another person to worry over so she stepped back, nerves getting the better of her. She fluttered around her house picking things up only to put the right back down and when Sam was mobile again his OCD would come up behind her and move it again, every time.

He didn't talk much and she didn't try to make him. Till he tried to scream his throat bloody one night. It was like the last bit of stone wall had been blown away. The strong silent statue of a man had become the fragile small thing in her arms. He cried and cried and then cried some more, through tears he gasped out the story of why he was there, how he lost his brother and at the same time his mind and who he hunted.

A cold dread filled her, there was only one person she knew of that had the power of time and space to do what had been done. But why? Why would her dad do this? Sam was a far cry from the vile and despicable creatures he usually tormented. Whatever the reason he had for doing it, she'd pry out of him later now she had to get Sam his brother back.

"I can get him back for you."

"No, you can't."

"Actually, I might be the only one who can. I can get the Trickster to put the whole thing back and you can get it right this time," she promised.

"How?"

She inhaled savoring the last second of peace they would have together before she shattered it with the cold hard facts. "He'll listen to his daughter."

It was still surprising that the brittle man that had been slumped so bonelessly on her couch with hardly any life in him was now the hurricane looming over her now. The man's anger was breathtaking when lit, made the Hulk looked like an offended Chihuahua. She took the venom spat words, some were pretty creative, and ducked what was thrown at her which only added to his ire. Even still, it hadn't been for very long and that outburst had cost him with his fever ravaged body.

Once he calmed down, passed out was a better term, she left to call her dad.

"'Ello, Ialapereji*," his chipper voice greeted her after three rings. Despite the dark cloud that was over head his version of her childhood nickname brought a smile to her lips.

"Hey Dad."

"Whatcha been up to?"

"Been having giant of a man crash at my place."

"You fox," he cried elated. "Who you been coped up with?"

"Guy by the name Sam Winchester. You've heard of him, haven't you?"

Dead silence rang on the other end.

"I might have."

She rolled her eyes so hard she wouldn't be surprised if he heard it over the phone. "He's a bit different from your usual lowlifes." A person, that's every kind, did things, good and bad, it was why they did them that decided if you killed them for it, at least that's how they came to see it.

"Didn't target him to make a point, it was to teach him a lesson."

Well, that was new. At first she thought Sam at the very least was caught in something he wasn't directly responsible for and was taking it in the teeth because he either was the only one who'd feel it, react to it, or the others weren't there to mess with.

Now she was thinking what was so special about him that Dad changed his M.O. That he'd keep to like a priest at Mass for years and was still committed to the switch. If it was so important it drew his attention then she was more than a little miphed he hadn't told her.

"Lesson? Well, I don't think he's got it. Whatever you got going I don't care just let him redo that Wednesday."

He answered her eye roll with a raised eyebrow. "Why does it matter if he does? You're there, you want him better, you fix him."

"I'm not what he wants or needs." It hurt to say that. This, whatever it was, mattered. But jumping in and taking over wasn't gong to do any good, it wasn't her right. That belonged to his brother. "Point is I haven't asked you for anything in decades."

"Tell me why I should? If I give him back his brother? And I'll talk to him."

She bit back a frustrated groan. Her fist clenched around the phone caught between wanting to throw it away and hitting the air.

"Because when I look at him I see myself when I was at my lowest. When I felt so alone and wanted to scream at the world that didn't give a damn no matter what good I did for it, what I paid so everyone else could smile and be innocent. He is me after I lost mom, and the times I ran. I always came back because you have never let me down. You saved me, now I'm asking you if I ever meant anything to you, to save him."

It was a low blow playing on his love for her to get him to cave but she knew this devastation all too well and wouldn't see another suffer the same. It was because of this that she got into more then half the harebrained schemes that she did, which usually snowballed into an avalanche but she never learned in any case.

"I give him what he wants when he still doesn't get it, it won't solve anything," he warned.

"Would it solve anything if he's dead? Because that's where this is going." And really it was amazing he hadn't done it already, but the way he said he had been going about the last six months, it was easy to see he'd never take the 'cowards' way out directly, if it happened on the job, however, he wouldn't have complained.

She felt like part of her dad knew this too. If he was as intent on teaching him a lesson he wouldn't have left him completely alone.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Back at the present she was fighting back a smirk at the pair. Sam might be more of a puppy on sight with his floppy hair and big begging eyes that melted even the Rippers heart but Dean was the one wagging his tail and rolling over for a belly rub.

Freaking adorable.

The indescribable relief she felt hearing that muscle engine creeping outside. Sam was still a bit on the lean and tired side, and his brother. Yeah, she could she herself losing her mind if she lost that fine, fine boy from her side.

She felt the same feeling she had with Sam just as fiercely with Dean. She was okay with letting Sam go before because he needed his brother, but he came back. Now she wasn't sure it would be that easy to leave them this time. He owed her nothing, in fact he should have forgotten her. If there was even the remotest possibility he had the same feeling about her too. Well, looked like she was going get real familiar with that muscle car of theirs.

Sam sat like a coil ready to spring off. Throwing a bottle cap at made him jolt off the couch in fright.

"Dude, unclench. The only one taking last time hard is you," she laughed.

"Sorry, it's just last time was pretty intense."

"Not disagreeing but I'm glad it all worked out. We're cool."

"You guys hit it off on Mardi Gras?" Dean asked, taking a tug on the offered beer. Not noticing Sam tensing up beside him.

Saphira looked at him confused. Was he serious? "No I- uh- fished him out the bayou."

"When was that?" Now Dean was the one confused.

"Six months from yesterday." Was the prompt reply.

"Huh?" the hamster running on his head just had a heart attack and spun out, hitting the wall. Saphira looked like she had walked in a mine field, very unsure.

"Why did you tell him that?" Sam bit out. It wasn't her fault but here came the fireworks. Saphira pinned with a molten glare. "I didn't know you coming here was a secret."

"It wasn't."

"Then how come he doesn't know how you showed up looking like a warmed over corpse at my door?"

"What?!" Dean thundered. Now she looked ashamed at the jab.

"Okay, Sam what happened? And no more avoiding the subject. Spit it out."

More than anything, well secondly more than anything, Sam would have preferred to have felt the whole ordeal back in Broward Country. Forget a hundred Tuesdays, a hundred ways Dean had died, that stupid song that announced a new death, the scrambling like a rat in a cage trying to find a way out. The hopeless especially he wanted to forget.

"It was the time loop. You died," Sam answered hollowly.

"Yeah, we've been over that. We caught him, we got out."

"No. I thought it was over, it wasn't Tuesday anymore. But you still died. And I didn't wake up. For six months I didn't wake up." As Sam explained his voice grew more watery and it all crashed down on him again.

For six months he lived with how life would be without Dean and he came to the conclusion, he didn't want to. This past year he said he could do it, that he would do it, and he just couldn't. He'd called Dean selfish for not wanting to be alone and sold himself to alleviate the problem. But when his time came Sam was at every crossroads he could find to trade places and no demon ever came.

So he hunted what he could find hoping if he was malicious enough, cold enough, reckless enough, he'd see Dean again or at least not have to live with his absence every second with each day.

Worn as he was in the end he wasn't stupid. He gets a call from Bobby saying he's found a way to get the Trickster the day after Saphira says she'll get him to fix it.

He had been wanting for that day when he finally found him, could finally make him pay for the hell he had put him through. Confronting the illusion Bobby, he pulled all his reserves to be strong and down to business. Then he actually saw him and he broke.

He wasn't strong, he wasn't tough. He was tired, bled dry. It was all too much to handle alone, he wished he'd grabbed Saphira to go with him at least then he'd have someone.

A film of tears layered his eyes, his breath became a whisper, and he spoke in broken half-finished sentences. He felt like a child. He couldn't handle any of it.

He pleaded for a chance. But even as he did, he wasn't expecting anything. With a lecture of how he should learn how to live alone better because that's how it was going to be and a crypt warning he got his chance.

He liked to think their little hook up at Crawford Hall meant something to the Trickster, that he cared enough to try and help him through the dark days to come granted in the most fucked up way possible. The Trickster certainly looked slightly remorseful when Sam started tearing up. But he was bar none the most powerful thing he had ever come across and a moment shared between the two did not entitle him to make demands to save his brother from his fate. Plus, he didn't think he'd deal it will if he had asked and the answer be no, that would be the last nail striking home in his coffin.

The ground seemed to shift under Dean. He hadn't just died a hundred different times, he'd died and stayed dead for six months. Six months he was in hell and Sam was up here hunting, not living, alone.

If finally hit him when he died Sam might not be that far behind him. What the hell was he doing hunting afterwards?! He was supposed to go back to college, finish being a lawyer, find another girl and be normal like he always wanted. He sold his soul not only to get Sam back and say goodbye properly but to get Sam back his chance to have the life he always wanted, the one Dean tore him away from in the dead of night.

Sam might have blamed himself for Jessica's death but Dean knew the blame was squarely on his shoulders. If he hadn't taken Sam, if he had been man enough Jess would still be alive and with Sam and maybe he'd have finally gotten a call from Sam one day saying he'd might a girl and he was getting a sister-in-law.

It wouldn't have been the family of hunters Dean had always thought of but at least Sam would be happy.

Now the next time he died it would be for real and there'd be no Trickster to beg a mulligan off of.

If he didn't want Sam alone he shouldn't have sold his soul, a voice in his head sneered. He didn't need to hear that crap now.

"How you get the Trickster to send you back? To Wednesday I mean?" Dean asked.

"His daughter called in a favor." Only it wasn't Sam who answered, it was Saphira.

Her?! She was the pompous douchebags daughter. The confession had him looking at her with new eyes…eyes.

Dean vehemently cursed his own stupidity for falling for a pretty face. How many times had his father drilled into him the importance of not letting appearances deceive him into dropping his guard? That the ones who could appear human were the worst dangerous. Physical beauty could be hiding the deepest of rotting evil creatures. You ganked rotten creatures, you don't sit with them in their bayou house while they poked fun at your brother.

With the realization it was like a film had fallen away and now all Dean could see where the things that marked her as something to hunt. The way she moved was graceful, the kind that came from familiarity with not only the area but also in one's own body, something that shouldn't be this far advanced with her age.

Looking up, deep jade met midnight blue and he knew she wasn't human. This was an old being sitting in front of them and this put Dean on edge.

His hand flew to his gun. Barely was his arm out ready to shoot when it was slammed down her hand clamped over his and the gun.

Gone was the sweet unassuming girl that he'd wanted to flirt with, in her place sat a primed huntress.

"Well," she started with a sharp grin. "That saves me the trouble of how to get the interview started."

"What interview?" Sam asked baffled by her words but not her change in attitude. So he knew what she was and he still brought Dean here? Damnit.

"When you two leave here, I want to go with you."

"Not happening," Dean denied. She gave them a fond look and laughed, "You really are as cute as you look. You say that like I'm giving you a choice. Either way I'm not staying here when you leave. You can either let me come with or I call my dad again and he'll hold you wherever you go till I catch up."

Part of her was put-off using her dad to intimidate them especially Sam so soon after what he'd been through but damnit she's found her fix after millennia of forced sobriety and she was going to indulge.

"What makes you think you can handle it if you did?" Dean questioned, because she wasn't going but he could do with a laugh.

"I have been off and on through the years."

"Then you really haven't," he informed her. "It's not a switch."

"That's what you think. You'll find I've done a little of everything."

"So why quit?"

She shrugged. "Lost the point to. Or maybe it's realized. Why bleed and break yourself when no one cares that you are. It's always better fighting with someone at your back."

It wasn't so much that normally she would be something they'd hunt, well it had a little to do with it for Dean since he had no freaking idea what she was. And he didn't like not knowing.

But Dean didn't want anyone else coming and mixing themselves up with their lives. Every time it ended badly if not catastrophic. Jo, Gordon, hell even getting Dad back was horrible. The odds were even lower because she was a girl. The women they hung out with, who started to mean something tended to die violently. Partially when sex was involved. More often the not any woman they showed an interest in that lasted more than one night meant they were open to physical, mental, or emotional suffering. It wasn't enough the universe rained it down on them, it did it to those around them. He had barely three months left till Hell called his number, he didn't want some stranger intruding in on the last moments he had with his brother.

"No," Dean growled at the same time Sam said, "Okay."

Dean almost dislocated his neck whipping around to stare at Sam. He didn't stare long. In a flash he was up with his hand fisted in the back of Sam's shirt hauling him off the couch and toward the hallway.

What the hell was with his brother cozying up to these creatures? You'd never catch Dean doing something that stupid. However helpful or hot or powerful they were. They weren't human, end of story. Never be vulnerable or show them a soft side for them to stab at.

"The hell, Sam? What Ruby's not enough for you, you've got to have a sleepover with whatever the hell she is?"

"Dean, she's old, she's been around. Surely her dad's taken her places. She might know how to get you out of your-"

"Damn it Sam! Enough about my damn deal!" Dean roared.

Dean should have seen this coming. Really the signs had been there, clear as day. After he had been electrocuted and his heart had been beat to shit Sam had run around like an idiot looking to beat his death sentence and keep him alive. While that had been going on he completely froze everything else in his life; eating, sleeping, showering, to focus on fixing Dean's problem and nothing else. And he had through a faith healer whose wife had killed someone else just to make it so.

Granted Sam was more reserved this time around but now it was channeled into accepting help from even less than savory characters, despite instinct telling him to run away.

He really should have nipped this in the bud way back then but he had just gotten Sam back after two years. He didn't want to push so hard Sam would leave again, so he kept quiet about it. Cause that was the thing.

He couldn't stand being alone, having no one or Sammy being hurt. He needed Sam to be okay or by his side so he could fix things when they went wrong, if he couldn't have his brother tagging along then he'd settle for safe even if it meant Dean would take on all the pain. As long as Sam would live it didn't matter what happened to him.

Now he was dying with no faith healer and Sam was pissed off so much at his acceptance of it he would and had gone behind Dean's back to any and every one who could offer help. So desperate was he that he ignored the obvious warning labels that came with the messengers.

Ruby had said herself, there was no way out. But Sam wouldn't believe him if he told him. He was determined to save Dean, to have the happy ending that was forever out of reach with their family.

"No! I'm going to save you, Dean," Sam swore.

"Why is this so hard for you now? It's not like you haven't lived without me in your life before."

Bringing up Sam leaving him and Dad for college was uncalled for. It was the gut punch and groin kick in one. It wasn't like he thought about that every day since he left. He didn't want to leave Dean, before that last fight he thought of asking Dean to go with him. Sam would go to college Dean could hunt around California maybe take an out of town from Bobby or Dad once in a while. But as soon as Dean heard he was accepted he was already feeling abandon and Sam never got to correct him because Dad had stomped in and tried to put a stop to it.

He left to get away from his dad and his obsession; he never wanted to make Dean feel left behind. But Dean cared too much about what Dad wanted or needed, he fell into pace behind Dad cutting off all ties with him until he came and got him from school.

"That was different. At least in college I knew you were out there somewhere, you were always a call away. There's not going to be that this time."

"I'm sorry for wanting you to live." The blunt and coldness hit Dean hard. "But how come only you get make the stupid decisions to save your brother and I don't? I care as much about what happens to you as you do me, Dean. I had to make it through six months without you. I had to push pass the fact there was nothing left of you around, no blaring music, no hitting on everything with a pulse with a smile as obnoxious as possible, and no getting pissed at me for wanting to talk to you about anything that wasn't hunting, not having someone who knew me.

"You only had to do that for a day. You have no idea what six months is like. What hurt the most was thinking about all the times you saved me, gave up the things that mattered to you and I could never get to do the same for you. I couldn't save you any of those days and I still can't now. This whole year has been worse than losing Jess and Dad.

"I wasn't okay with letting you go when you were dying from your heart, or when you got clawed up by the demon or when the car crash put you in a coma and you're reaper was after you. Fact is, if Dad hadn't made the deal, I would have. I am as selfish as you when it comes to having you taken away. If you're not sorry for dealing with demons to keep me alive then I won't be either. You may not think you're worth it but I do, and I will until that demon contract is shredded and ash."

Dean didn't want to admit it even to himself but he was touched that Sam cared that much. He didn't want to die any more than Sam wanted him to, but there was no getting around his deal. After he made the deal Bobby had torn into him something fierce. Asking him if he was screwed in the head, if he had so low an opinion of himself? And really, how could he not?

Since childhood John had drilled into his head that when they failed, people died. So in his mind he figured that if he did everything right, everything that was asked of him, he could not only save people from the same evil that took his mom and a good part of his dad but also get his father's pride and acceptance. Every day he followed every order without question, because questions would slow him down from saving people, spilling blood and breaking bone both his own and others, for John's revenge crusade and his own pipe dream about his father.

John had been a good and caring man and father before the fire. Afterwards it was like the fire had burned that side out of him. He plunged deep into the supernatural side of the world and declared his war on it. John Winchester had wanted soldiers and he got that with Dean.

To make his family happy he had shredded any unique part of himself, his passions, wants, desires, ambitions, so they wouldn't have to. And he believed it was worth it if it kept them alive and together.

But while Dean was obedient, Sam was defiant. Never would he roll over to their dad when he demanded so. He wanted to know why, and would not settle for less. Then Sam had gone away to college, and it ripped a hole in Dean's heart. Even though he knew it was to get away from John's rules and out from under his thumb and finally stretch his independent wings without getting a dressing down, it felt like Sam had just left him. Left him to keep being John's good little soldier. After everything Dean had done and sacrificed for him it was like a knife in the gut that still hurt even after they teamed back up.

After Sam came back, he kept thinking one day he'd wake up and Sam would be gone, gone to have a normal life that didn't have Dean in it. But he had stayed and they found Dad only to lose him. At the end did he get an 'I'm proud of you' or a 'Good job, Dean'? No, all he got was one last order; to kill his brother. To kill Sammy.

He couldn't do it, never would be able to not even for the one reason he gave for everything; because Dad told him to. The good soldier, the son that stayed and always did what Dad said died the day he woke from the coma.

Dean had hit the wall, this was one order he could not follow. And he didn't, not even when all the evidence said he should. He could never watch the light fade from those big hazel eyes, not when he had been there the day they opened.

In the end it didn't matter if he could, he still had to watch. That day holding his baby brother's cooling body, kneeling in the mud while it rained, Dean realized when his dad had died the ground had simply shifted beneath him. When Sam died, the world crumpled and the sun went black.

Sitting there staring at the still body that use to bounce and babble five miles a minute and never would again. He couldn't take the pain. Why, why was it him that outlived everyone? What was so damn freaking special about him? Better people then him had paid his dues so he could live, and this was what he lived for?

He had known he couldn't save everybody, one person can't save the entire world, partially when he can't get to the other side of it because flying terrified the crap out of him. But damn it, he would save Sam, no matter the consequences.

God, he needed a beer. And maybe one of those MIB flashy memory things. Life would be so much easier with those things.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because there was nothing you could do about and I wanted to forget it."

"Doesn't matter if I could do anything about it, if a whack-job drops you in a loop you tell me that shit. I don't want to find out from their daughter."

"She's not so bad," Sam protested.

Was it bad eavesdropping on them? If so she was very bad indeed. So, Dean had a demon deal huh?

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Coming back into the room Dean wasted no time making his way to the door, barely even glancing at the being seated in the chair. "Well, thank you for the talk," Dean said sarcastically, "but we don't hang out with things that ain't human. So we'll take our chances with your dad. Bye."

"So don't want to know about demon deals?"

Every molecule in his body froze. At first nothing happened, nothing moved. All the sounds had been sucked out of the world.

No, he was not going to let Sam and him get sucked into another bitches ploy to use them for whatever sick game she wanted to play.

Not turning around he asked, "What do you know?'

"Oh, I know deals."

"Yeah, how?"

"I made my own deal with the devil," she grumbled fiddling with a leather band on her wrist.

Reluctantly she had his attention. "What'd you ask for? Youth?"

She scoffed, "No demon would ever grant that. Money, sex, frame, health, life of another. These are things they'll grant in droves but never immortality. They can barely wait ten years to collect the soul, they wouldn't enter a deal where there's no profit in it. Beside all this is," she gestured to herself, "is natural."

Won't nothing natural about this. "How do you know so much?"

"I slept with a demon once or twice."

"So when you say you've done everything, you mean everything." Somehow, despite his disgust the turn in conversation amused him.

"He was mad because a client got in a bar fight and killed. Little fact they don't tell you, if you withdrawal early you go to where you were originally meant to. Meaning you die now and not when it's due you ride the escalator up."

"Also as a side note, when you kill a crossroads demon any deals they've claimed that haven't come due are null and voided. So if you've axed any you've saved someone being dinner for the hounds."

So the demon Sam ganked, whoever made a deal with it was free. Sam hadn't even thought about anyone else when he pulled the trigger, just that the bitch couldn't save Dean and he was so angry.

And that had eaten at him since. It wasn't that he killed the innocence person locked inside while the demon played pilot, it was that in that moment Sam genuinely didn't care. It was the lack of caring about killing someone that scared him. Dean had once said the things he was willing to do to protect Sam scared him and Sam at the time had thought he knew what he meant. It wasn't until the body hit the ground in the crossroads did he realize he had no idea.

"So let's see powerful demi-god on speed dial, vast knowledge of the supernatural, and fighting experience to later be showcased, how's my admittance looking?"

Smug little shit she was.

"You're in," Sam answered. Dean was going to need a neck brace if this kept up. "She's done more in an hour then we have in nine months. What's a trial run going to hurt?"

"Alright, just let me grab my bag," she disappeared out of the room.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Dean growled. "I'm thinking she's not looking and we can hightail it out of here?"

"…Sammy, when'd you get so devious?"

He didn't want to leave, not after everything she did for them but no one else was going to get hurt or die for them. He'd had enough. Helpful or not he didn't want another body on his conscious.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

Walking to the car Dean reached in his pocket for his keys, eager to get baby back on the road. Feeling slightly renewed at living to thirty with his brother, despite being brought up to not hope for miracles. The plan was still the same; find the bitch Bela and steal back the Colt then find the boss demon and refund his ticket for downstairs.

But he only grabbed at air and lint, the keys weren't there.

"You got the keys?" he asked Sam. Sam looked exasperated at him. "You never give me the keys."

"Well, I don't have them. So where are they?" he demanded.

A whistle sounded behind them. There was Saphira, with a duffel bag at her feet, a hobo bag on her shoulder and Baby's keys jangling in her hand. "Kind of hard to drive off all martyr-like without your keys, ain't it boys?" she gloated.

"How'd you get those?" Dean demanded, not liking someone else having Baby's keys, not one bit. "A better question is how long have I had these and you just now noticed? You don't strike me as the kind of guy that doesn't know when a woman's got her hands down your pockets," she fired back, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"But seriously did you think that trick was going to work? Can you not guess who came up with the din and dash?"

"Look, it's great you want to get back in it again, we could always use the help out there but let us deal with our own crap and appreciate that we're doing you a favor and saving your ass," Dean said

"You're protective Alpha male role is sweet, really it is. But I think I can make the big girl decision to come with you by myself and I'm going," she insisted.

Seeing the reluctance to agree she continued, "Look, you don't trust me, you don't know me, you don't like me but right now you need me. I'm a wealth of hunting knowledge; you seriously want to leave that to waste in a swamp. Just give me a chance. I get someone killed, I screw up, or I piss you off so bad you can dump me on the side of the road night or day where ever you want and I will thumb it back here myself. You'll never see me or even have to think of me again. Just one chance," she coaxed.

Why would she want to come with them? She had a home and a comfy life, basically everything Dean and Sam had been denied since they were kids. They grew up on hustling drunks at bars for money and scheming credit cards. They slept in one nameless motel after another or, when the drunks were smart and the cards were low, in the Impala.

In-between that they were doing one thankless job after another that at the end of each one just added to the weight of their bruised minds and souls. No one got into this job willingly; it was out of revenge or hatred, almost never for pure selfless reasons. Yet here was this girl wanting in just to help two people she barely knew.

They had to admit her old age knowledge would be a great asset but immediately having her be a best friend in close quarters was a big leap from stranger from the swamp with good intentions. And despite what she had no doubt seen with her years they weren't fans of giving more horror for her nightmares any more they were themselves. The fact that they still didn't know exactly what she was, was still concerning, adopted asshole dad notwithstanding.

Girl fights dirty, Dean thought, she just might make it in this after all. His hesitant agreement must have shown on his face because her grin got wider and got a hint of triumph in it. She knew she had won.

"One chance. I get even an idea you'll screw something up you're out, got it?" Dean argued. In answer she just tossed the keys back at Dean with a superior air surrounding her.

"When do we start?" she asked pumped.

They just did.

*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N*

*it's enochian for star

Reviews get pie.