Bobby Singer's spare bedroom was bathed in light. Every lamp they could get hold of, every candle they could safely burn, filled the room with light to rival the brightest of summer days. If they'd dared, they would have had Castiel add the brilliance of his true form to the mix, but they were not yet that desperate.

All the light was pointed toward the center of the room where an an iron-framed double bed sat in the middle of a field of runes. The runes had been drawn upon the wooden floor in chalk and captured within a pentagram. Iron nails were driven into the floor at every point of the star. Salt outlined the circle that encompassed it all. Throughout the room were hung herbs of various kinds. Incense burned in a holder upon a dresser shoved back into the corner.

Bobby himself checked the incense. It would have to be renewed soon. He exchanged glances with Dean. "You should get some sleep."

Dean's answer was not unexpected.

"No."

It could have been a scene taken from a time two years prior, when Sam lay dead upon a soiled mattress in an abandoned house a long way from anywhere. Then, like now, Dean leaned against the door jamb looking down at his brother, pondering his next step. The only difference between then and now was that Sam wasn't dead.

Yet.

Only a few days earlier Azazel's master plan had finally been revealed.

They'd been in Kansas City where they had just missed Lilith. Her trail had gone cold. Sam's temper had gone hot. They'd both been wrung out and exhausted, snapping at each other like a pair of pit bulls, aiming at the most sensitive places with words as sharp as fangs. Stress made Dean drink too much and sleep too little. Hellish nightmares, the worst he'd had in months, plagued him every time he closed his eyes. Sam was on a high following a demonic death spree. He'd sent dozens back to Hell in less than a week – a frighteningly short span of time and an unprecedented use of his abilities. Being deprived of the big fix – Lilith - forced him to rein it all back. Like a junkie, he was going through withdrawal.

The two of them together were like fire and gasoline. An explosion was inevitable. When bad driving conditions forced them to spend another night in town shut up in a motel room together, everything came to a head.

If this is what doing that shit turns you into, Sam, I'm glad we missed Lilith.

Really? Or are you just afraid.

Screw you.

You're scared, Dean, admit it. Lilith scares the piss out of you.

Okay, fine. I admit it. I'm in no hurry to meet up with the bitch again.

I'm going to kill her.

Riiiight. You've done a real good job so far.

I wasn't ready. I am now.

You've sold your soul, Sammy. Can't you see it?

Yeah, maybe I have. If you'd let me do it sooner I could have saved you.

I didn't want to be saved, not like that!

I wouldn't have either but I didn't get a choice. If you hadn't been such a fucking coward....

Dean cold-cocked him, hit him hard, and this time Sam didn't let it slide. No sooner had the blow connected than Dean hit the wall, the breath crushed from his lungs by the strength of the unseen force that held him pinned. Sam hadn't physically touched him.

It only lasted a second. Sam staggered backward to sit down heavily on one of the beds. Dean was released. He dropped from the wall to his feet, gasping for breath.

Stunned by what had happened, they stared at each other in silence. Dean's expression was one of profound sadness. Sam's was full of fear.

What might have happened next would remain a mystery. Ruby interrupted, bursting in the door looking ragged and worn, her hair a tangled mess from the windstorm outside. The language of her borrowed body spoke of weariness. The expression on her face mirrored that of Sam's – something had frightened her, and frightened her badly.

Without preamble she said, "Anna's dead. Uriel finally caught up to her, but not before she was able to get a message to Castiel."

"How do you know?" Dean demanded.

"Because," Ruby replied, seeking out and helping herself to the bottle of Jack Daniels Dean had stashed under his bed. "Castiel managed to leak the information to me." She raised the bottle and drank, wiping her lips on her sleeve when she finished. The unsteadiness of her hand had been noted. "He didn't dare come tell you himself."

Sam moved to allow her to sit down beside him. "Why?"

She avoided his gaze when she answered. "Because he would have been forced to kill you, Sam." Raising her head to look at Dean, she relayed her message. "Anna found out the truth Lilith has known for over a year now; Lucifer is still imprisoned, but he's no longer in Hell."

"What?" Both brothers spoke in unison.

Dean declined the whiskey. "If he's not in Hell, where is he?"

Ruby glanced back over her shoulder at Sam. "I think you already know."

Sam's brows knitted. He cocked his head slightly sideways. It took only a second, however, before his sharp mind connected the dots. "Azazel," he said hoarsely.

"Azazel, what? What, Sam? What about Azazel?"

Ruby spoke in Sam's stead. "Azazel's master plan was to create a human who could open the Devil's Gate, walk into the pit, and return unscathed – carrying Lucifer out with him."

"That's why Hellfire can't kill me." Sam ran his hands through his hair. "Oh my God."

Dean shook his head. "But that never happened. Jake never got that far. Sam killed him before he could go through the gate!"

"It wouldn't have mattered. Lucifer was already out by then." Ruby snorted. "He got out on a technicality."

Sam stood up, and took the bottle of whiskey with him. "Because," he said, after a long pull. "It wasn't Jake who won Survivor, Cold Oak."

Ruby concurred. "Exactly."

"Yes, he did." Dean insisted. "Jake killed Sam. I was there, I saw it."

"But Sam defeated Jake first. That's what counted. Sam could have easily killed him, but chose not to take that last step. It was a technicality no one could have predicted."

"Sam never went through the Gate, Ruby!"

"But he did go to Hell," Ruby said softly. "And came back."

There was a stunned silence, the second one in less than a half hour, in which Dean realized the portent of the yellow-eyed demon's last words. Sam and Ruby both could tell what he was thinking, the pain and horror were written all over his face.

How sure are you that what you brought back is one hundred percent pure Sam?

"But...." Dean stared at his brother, heart racing. "He's not possessed...."

"It's more than a matter of possession, Dean. Lucifer is more than a demon."

"He's an angel," Sam murmured, drinking again before handing the whiskey back to Ruby. "Like Anna. A fallen angel, imprisoned in Hell. He won't be free until the seals are broken, but once he is...."

"There are only two ways to stop this. We have to stop Lilith before she breaks the seals, or we have to send Lucifer back to Hell." Ruby chewed her lip and looked up at Sam, stunning them by revealing tears in her eyes. "There's only one way to send Lucifer back to Hell, and that's to send him back on the soul that brought him here." She turned from Sam to Dean, her brief sojourn into human sorrow over. Her eyes blackened. Her voice and expression turned cold. "That's why God pulled you out of Hell, Dean. You have to fix what you fucked up."

Dean stepped into the circle, taking care not to disturb any of the lines or sigils as he crossed over to the bed. Attached to each corner of the iron bed frame were iron shackles. Twenty-four hours ago Dean had secured Sam to the bed with them, complaining that it was overkill. Sam insisted. Better safe than sorry, he said.

Had he used regular handcuffs Sam might have been able to convince them to let him go, or simply broken free himself, but the iron kept his abilities in check. It wasn't the iron, however, that was making him so sick. That was something else.

Clad only in jeans in a cool room, Sam should have been cold. Instead sweat beaded up on his forehead and dampened his hair. It pooled in the hollow of his chest and ran down to dampen the sheets. His face was flushed with fever but his eyes were clear, revealing the pain he suffered. They pleaded with Dean to make it stop. Dean was cut to the bone by it, but there was nothing he could do.

Lucifer was more than a demon, possessing more substance than the swirling black smoke of those he commanded. As Dean watched he could see Sam's skin ripple and roll as if something inside were struggling against it. He could see the outline of a clawed hand as it ran up Sam's side. Sam's ribs bulged outward, creaking audibly in harmony to his groan. A moment later a sharp crack resounded through the room, followed by a cry of pain. Dean clenched his fists.

"Son-of-a-bitch."

Sam tossed his head. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth. "Dean..."

They both heard a laugh, muffled, but clearly a laugh.

Sam's belly suddenly surged upward, swelling outward like some obscene pregnancy. A face appeared, human-like features pressed against taut skin. Clawed fingers pushed against the binding flesh. The laughter became a curse and a growl before subsiding into silence. The swelling abated, leaving behind grotesque bruises in the shape of hands. Sam moaned. Once again he whispered Dean's name, and this time followed it with the plea he had been repeating for hours.

"Kill me."

Sam sighed. "She shouldn't have said that. You couldn't have known, Dean."

Dean grunted in reply.

"It wasn't fair."

"She's right. You're right...." Dean reached over and turned the key. The Chevy's engine caught. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the vibrations filtering up through his hands from the steering wheel. The car was safe, familiar. It was home. "I have to fix this."

Sam radiated guilt. "I would have done the same thing."

"I am a coward, Sam."

"No you're not, Dean."

"I was scared. I couldn't go on alone, not like you did, Sammy. Then Hell proved what a chicken shit I am. I broke. I gave in. Dad never cracked like I did."

"You don't know that."

"They told me. He never broke. He stayed on the rack for God knows how long, and he never, ever let them get to him. I couldn't do it."

"Who told you about Dad? Alastair? Are you going to believe that asshole?"

"It doesn't matter. I know Dad. He...."

"Wasn't God!" Sam snapped finally.

Dean put the car in gear. They drove out of the motel parking lot into the street. It was early, hours before dawn, and traffic was nearly nonexistent. The Impala cruised along empty streets toward the interstate as if homing in on the noise, and light, and the promise of civilization. Dean gunned it up the ramp and melded into traffic with the late night travelers.

Ten miles down the road Sam was sorry, sorry for everything. Dean shook his head, blowing off the apology.

"It's not your fault. You're the victim here, Sammy. The bottom line is that if I wasn't a coward...." Dean glanced over at his brother briefly, and then turned his gaze back to the road. "You wouldn't be sitting there right now." Under his breath he added softly. "And neither would I."

Sam chewed his lip. He looked out the window at a blur of trees passing by along the side of the road. They wouldn't be on the interstate for long. Dean didn't like being that conspicuous. Soon they would leave it behind for the long forgotten rural routes, the ones that curved through the American countryside past farms and forest and prairie. They'd criss-crossed the country enough times both brothers recognized established routes. This was no exception.

"We're going to Bobby's?"

"Bobby will know what to do."

"We know what to do, Dean! The angels told you. Ruby told you."

"No." Dean's hands grasped the steering wheel more tightly, making the plastic squeak beneath his hands.

"If you can't, I will," Sam said quietly. "Nobody will hold it against you. You aren't a coward."

"I'm not going to kill you Sammy."

"It's the only way, Dean."

"We'll find Lilith."

"We just lost Lilith. The trail is cold and according to Ruby she's only got a few seals left."

"I said no, Sam."

Sam sighed. "And what if we get to Bobby's and he hands you a gun?"

"I'll hand it back."

"We're talking about the end of the world, Dean! Hell on Earth. Armageddon!"

"Do you want to die?" Dean demanded. He gave Sam a hard stare for as long as he could before traffic forced him to pay attention to his driving.

"No, but...."

"Then shut up about it!"

Abruptly the car swerved right, cutting off a small sports car and ducking in behind a semi. Tires squealed, horns honked, and Dean cursed under his breath as they just missed being rear-ended by a minivan. As the Impala roared down the exit ramp it was Sam's turn for a hard stare.

"When I suggested you kill me, I didn't mean via fiery car crash," he said tersely. "This isn't our exit."

"Have you always been such a nag or am I just now noticing?" Dean blew through the stop sign at the end of the ramp and turned into the lot of a fast food restaurant. "I need food. You want anything?"

"No, but Lucifer will have one of those extra spicy chicken sandwiches."

"Dude. You are so not funny."

Sam grinned wryly. "I'm a little funny."

Dean turned on him with a stern expression and an outstretched finger. "No. You are not using my lines against me." He looked out the windshield at the car in front of them in the drive through. "Dammit. Is this guy ordering for a whole freakin' hockey team or what?" Turning the wheel, he took the car out of line and parked.

They sat there for a moment before Sam sighed and reached for the door handle. "I suppose I'm paying too." He got out of the car. "Cheeseburger. Right?"

"Extra onions!" Dean called after him. "And see if...."

"They got pie. Yeah, I know the drill."