A/N Okay, peeps, sorry about this. I decided to rewrite this story. Most of it is the same but I added some brotherly moments, WeeChester/TeenChester moments, etc. I think it's more enjoyable, but if you don't want to read it all over again, you'll still get the ending when I post it later today. Each chapter is complete, so I will be posting them throughout the day and the final will be posted this evening before the premiere - depending on which channel you watch it on and what time zone you're in, of course. Anyway, my apologies again but the only way I was able to find my way around my writer's block was to make a few changes. Forgive?? Please?? Kelcor

2nd A/N Also, for those who don't want to have to read through the whole thing again, just start at Chapter 6, as that's where most of the major changes begin. Kelcor

CHAPTER ONE - Come Hell or High Water

Iron chains were hooked into his flesh, his own weight adding to the insurmountable amount of pain the chains were inflicting on him. And the heat! It was not only stifling but unbearable. Every time he took in a breath to scream, it felt as if his insides were on fire - and, who knows, maybe they were… this was HELL after all.

There was no concept of time, so Dean had no idea how long he had been hanging there before the demons decided to begin their own kind of torture. They clawed at him. They burned him. They bit him. The pain was excruciating. He wanted to die but knew that wasn't possible, because he wasn't alive to begin with.

After enduring what seemed like years worth of anguish, Dean finally shut down and hid inside his head. Unfortunately, his new caretakers were not going to allow the escape, temporary as it may be. While some of them continued tearing at him with their claws and teeth, others ignored his body and attacked his mind, instead.


The man entered the gates of Hell with surprising ease... after all, each of the precautions which had been put in place were used to keep souls from getting out... no one was really concerned about someone trying to get in. Because, no one in their right mind would ever try to enter into those fiery depths of their own accord... except for maybe him. Oh, he wasn't crazy. He had all his wits about him. But, when a young man is in the worst pain imaginable - and then some - nothing, absolutely nothing, could keep his father from surpassing any obstacle in his path to get to him... to save him!


Where Dean ended up was dark and cold. The cold was a nice change. The dark? Not so much. Dean had never been afraid of the dark before. There were even times when he had cherished it. That wasn't the case anymore because here there was no moon to shed its meagre light, no stars to twinkle at him from light years away. The darkness here gave an all new definition to the term. Here it was an oily blackness that no light would ever be able to penetrate. Here the darkness had what seemed to be a syrupy substance to it, like molasses, yet it didn't hinder his movements at all, which made him believe the substance was a product of his imagination.

A form evolved in front of him, bringing with it an eerie glow that melded with the darkness but still didn't seem to penetrate it. He soon came to realize the form was that of his mother. She was just as he remembered her. Eyes full of love. A smile brighter than the sun - a sun he hadn't seen in so long he'd almost forgotten what the comparison actually meant. She reached out to him and he gratefully took her hands, gasping with surprise and fear when she squeezed his fingers hard enough to make his knuckles grind together. When he looked up at her in confusion and pain, he noticed, with a growing dread, that her eyes had turned black. Her smile morphed into a hideous sneer. Dean pulled away from her with such force, he fell to the floor. "No! Please, God, no!"

Mary spoke to him, in his mother's voice but with a coldness that had never been there before. God can't help you down here, Winchester. You're ours now.

His father appeared next to her. You were nothing more than a soldier to me. Someone to watch over Sammy, my only real son.

"That's not true," Dean said, trying to hide the whimper in his voice but not quite succeeding.

You were just a means to an end, Dean. Why do you think your mother and I had two kids? You know what they say, 'If at first you don't succeed…' This voice, too, was the one Dean remembered, though barely. His time down here was making him forget everything and everyone that was ever important to him. He fought to hold on to the memories - to his humanity! - but he knew that fight could only go on for so long.

Then Sammy appeared between John and Mary. . I'm so glad you're out of my life for good. Now, I can get on with my life without having to listen to you constantly trying to tell me what to do. I don't need your protection, anymore. And, let's be honest, that's all you were ever really good for. I am finally able to fulfill my destiny. His eyes turned black and he looked down on Dean with utter hatred.

"No-o-o-o!" Dean cried. He jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he possibly could, all the while hearing the three people he loved most in the world laughing uncontrollably… at him. Did you really think we could ever love a pathetic loser like you?

He stumbled a few times but each time he quickly picked himself up and continued his search for safety. Finally, he found a large, formidable looking door and, although he was unsure if God would even hear him from this far away, he prayed fervently that this would be the sanctuary he was seeking. After fumbling for a moment or two with the knob, he finally opened it and threw himself inside, slamming the door closed behind him.

The room was completely white - floor, walls and ceiling. It seemed to give off its own light. Not eerie this time, though. It was warm. Comforting. There were no lurking shadows, no darkness waiting to swallow him whole.

Dean finally felt safe, until a loud noise sounded from beyond the protective threshold behind him. He spun around to see the door shaking with the force of insistent pounding. He ran into a far corner and crouched down into it, facing the wall. He wrapped his arms around his head, trying desperately to block out the noise and, more importantly, the voices.

A few moments later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, despite the unmistakeable gentleness of the touch. "Son?"

A word that Dean had once longed to hear made him whimper in defeat. "Please. Please, stop."

"Dean. It's me, son."

He tried to push himself further into the corner but was unable to get any closer. He felt a hand on each shoulder now, turning him around. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Come on, Dean. Look at me. Please? It's dad."

Dean shook his head emphatically. "No. No, you're not him. You're just messin' with my head," he added, frantically hammering his skull with his fists. "Get outta my head!"

John took his eldest son's wrists in his hands, gently but firmly pulling them away from their target. "Stop it, Dean. You're gonna hurt yourself." The older Winchester smiled sadly when Dean offered a humourless chuckle at this statement. "Yeah. I suppose that is kind of a moot point right about now, isn't it?"

Dean finally looked up at the man standing before him, afraid to believe it was really his father, yet silently pleading that it was. Seeing the question in his son's eyes, John placed a hand on the side of his face, cupping his jaw in his palm. "Yeah, son, it's really me," he confirmed gently. He watched the internal war as his eldest scrutinized him, carefully weighing his options. Finally, John saw something close to belief register in his eyes and a single tear slid down his son's cheek. He pulled Dean into a strong embrace. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm gonna get you outta here. I promise."

Dean abruptly pulled away from his father and forced himself to his feet, disbelief shining in his eyes once again. "No. This is a trick. You're playing with me again."

"Dean -- ", John began, also standing, reaching for his son.

"No. There's no escape from this place. That fact was proven to me a long time ago," Dean whispered, taking a step backwards. He stalked away, then spun to face John once again, a mixture of anger, pain and desperation in his eyes. "You're not my father. You're one of them! You want me to believe so that you can crush me again. I won't let you. I won't."

John sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "Just stay strong, son. I'll be back," he vowed solemnly.

Dean locked eyes with the other man and that's when it hit him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something there that told him that this really was his father. He tried to speak but the sudden lump in his throat refused to let his words seep passed.

"I promise to come back, Dean. Just stay strong. You hear me, son? Stay. Strong." Those were John's final words before disappearing.

"No," Dean was finally able to whisper, but it was too late. He was alone again. "Don't leave me."


"Get your hands off my boy!" The voice roared into the cavernous depths, startling the demons for just a moment. Unconcerned, they quickly resumed their games of torture on the most exciting addition to their world - the young man who was responsible for many of them being here. "I said, get your hands off... my... boy!" John repeated, raising his voice even more to be heard over the cacophony of his surroundings.

Your powers won't work down here, John.

"Is that so?" The older Winchester's features were lined with a grim determination. He glanced down at the murky depths below. "Well, I'm somehow able to keep myself from falling through these chains, aren't I? Must be doin' something right."

A demon launched itself onto his back, snapping at his neck with its teeth. John grunted with the effort as he reached back to grab the demon's head between his hands. With a resounding CRACK he snapped its neck and allowed it to fall between the chains it had been hovering over and disappear into the smoky darkness beyond.

Another demon rushed at him but John pulled a knife out of his waistband and used the demon's momentum to thrust the blade deep into its chest, until it protruded out the other side. He pushed the worthless being off the specially designed metal and watched as it too fell into the fiery depths.

Most of the other demons retreated, their instinct for survival apparently outweighing their instinct to feed... and torture. But, one remained. Its skin was a pinkish/red hue, its teeth still salivating from its time with Dean. John could still see his son's blood dripping from its chin, a sight that made his own blood boil.

"You know," John quipped, as they turned in a slow circle, never taking their eyes off each other, "you really should use a higher SPF."

The demon sneered at him but said nothing.

"Come to think of it, all your really missing is the horns and tail... oh, and the trademark goatee... then you'd look like a true stereo typical demon. You know, as opposed to the piss ant that you really are." He glanced quickly at his son, spread eagle amongst the chains. His heart broke at the sight. He quickly returned his gaze to his soon-to-be-dead opponent. "You're going to pay for what you did to him," John promised, anger flashing in his eyes with a ferocity that would give the fire and brimstone below a good run for its money.

He quickly dodged when the demon launched itself at him, teeth gnashing, claws swiping the air. As they both spun to face each other, it propelled itself forward again. This time, John swung the knife in mid-dodge, plunging the blade of it into the demon's back... giving it that one extra twist for good measure.

"You really shoulda left my boy alone," John whispered menacingly in its ear before shoving it forward into the abyss that waited below.

With the path now clear, John approached Dean and placed a hand gently on his forehead. After surveying the damage - the scratches, the cuts, the welts, the gaping wounds - he leaned down and whispered in his son's ear. "I'm gonna get you outta here, Dean. Remember, stay strong!" Without another word, he wrapped one arm around his son's waist, and waved the other over the chains hooked into Dean's shoulders and torso. The chains fell free and John pulled his eldest against his chest, then used his other arm to deal with the chains in his legs. Once they fell away, as well, he slipped his arm beneath Dean's legs and lifted him into his arms. Pausing for only a second to place one soft kiss in the spiky hair beneath his chin, John began the long journey home.


Sam stumbled into his motel room and collapsed fully clothed on one of the beds. His brother had been dead for a month and he still couldn't bring himself to get a room with just one bed. After that fateful night, he hadn't been able to continue hunting. He'd promised Dean that he would but he just couldn't bring himself to keep that promise… not yet, anyway. All he wanted right now was blessed numbness. Besides, he was afraid that if he did start hunting again, he would end up like he had when the Trickster had killed Dean all those months ago - and that would be an insult to his brother's memory and, most of all, to his sacrifice.

He fell asleep almost instantly and had the same nightmare that he'd had every night for the past 30 days. The same nightmare that each night he hoped, if he drank enough whiskey and tequila, wouldn't haunt him - but it always did. Once again, he saw the hell hounds attacking his brother. Once again, he heard his brother screaming in agony. And, once again, tears streamed down his face as he cradled his brother's lifeless body in his arms.

Sam sat straight up in bed, eyes wide and alert. He could hear the sound of rain pelting against the window pane but knew that wasn't what had woken him. He listened for any other sounds but all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Holding his breath, he listened again - and could still hear breathing. The realization came slamming down into his still inebriated brain, full force - he was no longer alone in the room. He yanked his… no, Dean's, dammit, it was still Dean's… bowie out from under his pillow and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, in one fluid motion. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the man standing at the foot of his bed.

TBC