Hey everyone! Back with a brand new story! This is a sort of AU Season 5 piece with a ton of whump for pretty much everyone involved, so you have been warned. ;-) This story is set right after the episode "My Bloody Valentine" while Sam is still detoxing from the demon blood he drank when influenced by Famine. Up to that point, this follows canon, but you'll see how it kind of wavers. There will be some scenes and dialogue reminiscent of later episodes in S5 throughout this story, but no scenes actually copied. (Supernatural does not belong to me, obviously!) I hope you guys all enjoy!

Thanks to Aini NuFire as well for helping me brainstorm for this one :) Check out her stories if you haven't yet!

Standoff

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

It was all just one long nightmare.

The demon blood was burning through his veins like fire, and yet Sam just wanted more. It felt like it would kill him if he didn't get more. He couldn't stop the screams that tore from his throat, couldn't help but cry out to Dean and Cas and Bobby—anyone—to help him, even though somewhere in his delirious mind, he knew they wouldn't. Part of him knew they couldn't—the other part of him thought he didn't deserve their help anyway.

He wondered why the demon blood tore into his insecurities the most. Maybe it was to make him dependent on it, because the hallucinations were almost worse than the pain. This was the price of his betrayal. To himself, to Dean, to…everyone. He hadn't been able to resist Famine's pull on him, and now he was paying the consequences. But still in the forefront of his mind whenever he closed his eyes, was Dean's face when he realized what Sam had done, that he had failed and given in to his addiction. Again. That hurt more than anything, and he couldn't even blame hallucinations on it, because that, he was positive, had been real. He could never forget that look.

How many times was he going to let Dean down?

"Oh my, look at this pathetic excuse for a little maggot."

Sam's eyes flew open at the voice. He looked over to the corner of the room and saw Zachariah standing there, hands in his pockets, grinning as if he were enjoying watching Sam's suffering. Knowing him for the sadistic bastard he was, Sam figured it was probably making his day.

Sam thumped his head back against the thin pillow on the cot. "Why you?" he groaned, preparing himself for the abuse this new hallucination would bring.

"Oh, I think you misunderstand," Zachariah said, striding forward, until he was standing over Sam's cot, and the hunter suddenly felt very vulnerable chained up as he was. He remembered the first time he had detoxed when a hallucination of Alastair had come and tortured him, and wondered if Zachariah would do the same.

"You see, Sam," Zachariah said, smiling like a cat who had a mouse at his mercy. "I'm not in your head. It's actually me here."

Sam stared at him, trying to make sense of it in his brain muddled with the burning fever. "No, y-you can't; the warding…"

"Works against pretty much anything but angels," Zachariah said with a smug grin. "A bit of an oversight, really, especially if Lucifer got wind that you were just sitting here all tied up and ripe for the picking. I gotta say, I'm glad I got to you first, Sam. We certainly wouldn't want that to happen."

Sam squirmed on the cot, tugging at the cuffs. Zachariah chuckled and crouched to look at him at eye level. "Now, Sam, you have an important role to play. You're going to help us get your brother to embrace his destiny. Who knows? It might even be enough to atone for all your dirty little sins."

Sam struggled more violently. "Dean! Dean, help!"

Zachariah laughed at him as he straightened up and tugged nonexistent creases from his suit jacket. "Come on, Sam, you know Dean's not gonna fall for that. No, you are completely at my mercy, and there's nothing you can do about it." He reached down and before Sam could scream for help again, Zachariah had touched his forehead and everything went blank.

Castiel sat on Bobby Singer's couch, watching the old hunter search through the piles of research on his desk while he tried to ignore the muffled screams that could be heard from the basement. Dean had told Castiel he needed air and gone outside, probably to drink alone in the rain since he hadn't come back in yet. Castiel's chest ached with each of Sam's agonized cries, not blaming Dean for leaving.

He couldn't help but think that if he hadn't been so weak, if he hadn't let Famine get to him, he would have been able to prevent this. Could have stopped Famine before the demons found Sam. Castiel knew how hard it had been to resist, and he was an angel—or some weak semblance of one, anyway. Sam had really had no chance—none of them had. Except Dean, who had been so broken inside that Famine's pull had had the exact opposite effect on him. Castiel's heart ached for both of his friends.

He slumped against the side of the couch, feeling useless, a hand cautiously resting on his queasy stomach. As an angel he had a very high metabolism, even in his falling state, but that didn't stop him from getting a stomachache from the hundreds of hamburgers he had consumed, not to mention the tray of raw beef he had also been unable to resist. His stomach turned over sickly at the thought and he had to swallow down the urge to vomit, then wondered wryly if that wouldn't make him feel better.

A weary sigh came from Bobby's direction and Castiel turned to him. "Finding anything?" he asked.

Bobby gave him a longsuffering look. "Well, it's hard to tell what is just general apocalyptic crap or what's definitive omens," Bobby said. "But we took out War and Famine now so that only leaves us with Death and Pestilence—my personal favorite."

"We know Death is risen," Castiel said. "But he will be the hardest to find. He is the most powerful of the Horsemen."

"And until there's news that the Black Death is back on the menu I guess we can figure that Pestilence hasn't gotten topside yet," Bobby admitted, running a hand tiredly over his face. "Guess all we can do is keep plugging away."

Castiel nodded, somewhat glad that they would be spending the next few days researching. Even he needed a break after the hunt for Famine.

The lights in the room flickered slightly and Castiel frowned, looking up at the nearest lamp, but the episode only lasted a second.

"I really hope that was a thunderstorm brewing," Bobby muttered.

Castiel stood up, looking around the room, half expecting some supernatural creature to come out of the woodwork. That was the way it always seemed to go around the Winchesters, after all. But by then he had noticed what else was wrong.

"It's quiet," he said cautiously.

Bobby had already noticed, a grim look on his face. "You better get down there and check on Sam. I don't like this."

Castiel didn't either and he flitted into the basement without bothering to walk, saving time. Sam wasn't screaming anymore, in fact, Castiel couldn't hear anything on the other side of the door. He slid open the peek hole first and started as he saw the cot was empty. He and Dean had made sure Sam was secure, how could he have possibly gotten loose, especially since he seemed too delirious to pick a lock?

He started unlocking the door and yanked it open with a screech. He half expected to see Sam cowering in a corner, or caught in some sort of fit, but there was no sign of the younger Winchester anywhere in the room. Castiel even looked up as if Sam could have possibly found a way out that way, but the panic room was completely empty and completely sealed.

He turned his attention back to the cot where the manacles rested—still closed.

The nauseous feeling his Castiel's stomach came back with a vengeance, this time having nothing to do with the hamburgers, and he flew back upstairs, giving Bobby a start as he reappeared, papers fluttering off the hunter's desk.

"What's wrong?" Bobby demanded.

"Sam's gone," Castiel replied, already thinking frantically about what they were going to do, and even more important, how he was going to explain this to Dean.

"The hell you mean, he's gone?" Bobby demanded.

"He's just gone! It's as if he disappeared," Castiel said frantically. "There was no way he could have gotten out and his manacles were still locked."

"Balls!" Bobby cursed, wheeling his chair around the desk toward Castiel. "You sayin' something took him?"

Castiel swallowed hard. "I don't know what else to think."

Bobby shook his head, a million emotions crossing his face before he stared back up at the angel. "Well, you better go find Dean. We got a whole new bucket of problems now."

Dean sat against the side of the Impala, his bottle of whisky almost empty. The rain was still spitting from the clouds, making his clothes damp, soaking into the backside of his jeans, but he hardly cared right now. All he wanted was for something to give, because he was starting to feel like he had given just about all he could give right about now—for real this time. He wasn't sure whether it was the confirmation that he was broken and hollow inside, or seeing Sam fall off the wagon again, but he was damn tired of giving to this cause, their so-called destiny, right now. If God was out there somewhere, all Dean wanted was some aid, some guidance. Was that too much to ask? Even just a confirmation of his existence would be nice at this point so Dean knew there might be a higher power out there who had reasons for what was going on—as horrible as those reasons seemed to Dean right now. He just wanted to know that there was an end in sight because he was just about done.

And Dean didn't really blame Sam for drinking the demon blood this time. How could he really? Just because he hadn't felt Famine's effects, he had seen what it did—to Cas even, and he was an angel. Dean regretted being unable to keep the disappointment, the horror, off of his face when Sam came into the diner hopped up on demon blood again. It had just brought back too many memories. But he knew Sam was suffering from his failure just as much as Dean, and he knew the kid would beat himself up about it if he had any strength left after the detox. Dean took another long pull from the bottle. Listening to Sam scream for his help when there was nothing he could do was the worst part.

Footsteps crunched on the wet gravel, and Dean looked up slowly, not even caring right now if demons or angels were there to kill him or cart him off. But it was only Cas.

The angel hurried toward him once he spotted Dean. "Dean, we need you back inside now."

His urgent tone made Dean's insides clench and he started to force himself up from the wet ground, his body stiff. "What's wrong? Sam…"

Cas' face told Dean everything he needed to know. He stepped forward and grabbed the front of Cas' trench coat. "Cas? Did something happen to Sam?"

There was a sudden sense of vertigo and Dean blinked, finding himself in Bobby's study, the older hunter looking angry and helpless.

"Cas!" Dean demanded.

"I went to check on Sam, and he's gone," Cas said simply.

"Gone? What the hell's that mean?" Dean demanded, already on his way down to the basement. The door to the panic room was open and he pushed his way inside, looking around. "Sam? Sammy?"

"Dean, he's not here, I've looked everywhere," Cas told him tiredly, as he appeared behind him.

Dean was already inspecting the cot, yanking experimentally on the manacles, and frowning as he saw they were still locked. "But how the hell did he get out?"

"I don't think he got out by himself."

Dean spun around and stormed back out and up the stairs, Cas following behind him.

"Then who got him out of here? It's warded against fricken' everything."

Castiel was silent for a moment as they got back to the den, but Bobby spoke first.

"Well, not strictly everything," the hunter admitted grimly.

Dean looked at Cas and suddenly his nausea ramped up so much he thought he was going to be sick. "Son of a bitch," he breathed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't think that…"

Cas was silent, but the grim expression on his face told Dean that the angel shared his fears. "Cas? Does Lucifer have my brother?" he said in a low, careful voice.

"Dean, I don't know," Cas tried, holding up his hands but Dean was already in his face, grabbing the front of his coat again.

"Does that son of a bitch have Sam?" he screamed.

Cas glared then and grabbed his wrists, forcing Dean to let him go. "Dean, I. Don't. Know," he said deliberately. "All we know for sure is that something took him, and the most likely candidate is an angel."

Dean turned and gripped his short hair in his hands, not even knowing what to do right now. The thought that Lucifer could have Sammy now while he was delirious and vulnerable was consuming him. And while that was the worst-case scenario, any other possibility was just as bad.

"We gotta find him," he said, already on his way out the door.

"Dean, you just hold on a damn minute," Bobby snapped at him, rolling his chair forward to intercept the younger hunter. "We need to find out exactly what we're dealing with. We don't even know what has Sam and where it's taken him."

"If it's Lucifer—"

"He'll kill you before you get within twenty yards of him," Bobby growled. "Use your head, idjit; you ain't gonna help Sam if you get yourself dead!"

"Bobby's right," Cas said. "I have no way of tracking Sam, and even if I did, we have to know what or who we're dealing with before we go off guns blazing as you are wont to do." Dean didn't miss the exasperation in Cas' voice. "Until then, it's best if we—" He stopped, his eyes squinting up as if he had a headache as he put a hand to his temple.

Dean frowned and took a cautious step toward the angel. "Cas?"

"Dean," Cas said, looking up at the Winchester, his face tight. "I'm getting something through angel radio."

"About Sam?" Dean demanded, stepping closer as if he could listen in too.

Cas held up a hand and Dean waited a few more seconds, which seemed like an eternity as he watched Cas' face get darker and tighter.

"What?" he finally demanded.

"It's not Lucifer that has Sam," Cas said first.

Dean's stomach unknotted slightly. "Well, that's good news, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," Cas said grimly. "Lucifer may not have Sam…but Zachariah does."

Dean's stomach plummeted again, and he had to swallow hard not to vomit on Bobby's floor. "Son of a bitch," he growled. "I'm gonna kill him."

He went over to his duffle bag and started pulling out his weapons; checking his gun and pulling out the angel blade before stowing it in his jacket.

"Dean, we can't just go after him," Cas said. "I have no idea where Zachariah is and if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be. He'll have taken Sam somewhere secure and probably warded it so even other angels can't find it. He wouldn't want to risk Lucifer finding him either."

Dean cursed, slamming a fist down on the desk. "Dammit, Cas, I'm not gonna leave Sam with that sadistic asshole!"

"Dean, listen to me," Cas said, stepping into Dean's personal space. "There's only one reason Zachariah would want Sam and that is to use him as leverage for you. If you go off after him with your typical recklessness, all you're going to do is get yourself captured too, and Zachariah will probably kill Sam to get you to say yes."

"That won't stop him from torturing him in the meantime," Dean growled.

A dark look washed over Cas' features. "No, it won't. But as long as you are free Zachariah needs Sam alive as leverage. That will give us time to find his location and decide on the best course of rescue."

Dean spun away, shaking his head. "That's not good enough."

"It's all we can do right now, son," Bobby told him.

"No, it's not. I can give myself up," Dean said firmly.

"Dean, no," Cas growled.

"I'm what they want!" Dean shouted. "This is the only way and you know it!"

"The hell it is!" Bobby growled. "You don't get to quit like that, boy, not after everything we've already been through. What would Sam say?"

"At least he'll be alive!" Dean retorted.

"Dean, listen to me," Cas snapped and Dean was slightly startled by the dangerous light flaring in the angel's blue eyes. "Zachariah will kill Sam as soon as you say yes. And then Michael will have you, and we'll have lost both of you. I won't let that happen."

The air got suddenly static with Cas' anger, several of the lights flickering. Dean swallowed hard, biting back the angry retort he wanted to make, because he knew it wouldn't make any difference. Cas could put him to sleep and lock him up in the panic room if he and Bobby thought he would try and make a run for it.

Dean spun toward the kitchen and grabbed a sixpack from the fridge before making for the door.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Bobby demanded.

"I'm gonna sit in my car," Dean growled. "Just—I need to clear my head."

"Dean…" Cas started, stepping forward, but Dean was already out the door, trudging through the rain again back to the place Cas had found him. He yanked the Impala's door open and slumped in the front seat, cracking open the first can of beer and downing half of it in one go. There was too much to think about right now and nothing he could do. All he knew was that Sam was somewhere with that bastard Zachariah who was probably torturing him on top of the pain he was already going through with the demon blood detox.

By the third beer, he felt himself slipping into exhaustion, not even sure when the last time he had slept had been. It was kind of hard to tell anymore.

But he let himself go, taking the moment of oblivion when he could get it.

Sam woke, not sure whether he was really awake or not, or whether this was just another hallucination. He instantly realized he was no longer in the panic room—at least he wasn't seeing the panic room at the moment—but in a place that looked more like a morgue; tiled floors, clean white walls, overall cold sterile feeling, except it was grungy from disuse. Most of all he noticed he was strapped to a stainless steel table in the middle of it.

He instantly struggled against the restraints, his heart pounding in his chest, as he frantically tried to figure out where he was. "Dean? Bobby? Cas?" he called. "Help, please help!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears though. No one was there. Or at least…no one was coming.

He finally stopped struggling, exhausted, his body aching, and slumped on the hard cold table, panting from the effort of his struggles. Cloudy memories flitted through his mind of seeing Zachariah, but he couldn't be sure whether he had hallucinated the angel or not. Of course, there was the fact that after Zachariah had put him to sleep, he woke up here, and the angel had said that he was using Sam to get to Dean.

"Is anybody there?" he shouted, but his voice just echoed off the cold walls. "Please, just answer me! Anyone!"

He could still feel the demon blood rushing through him. He couldn't have been out for long then, because it still hadn't worked its way out of his system. Of course, if Zachariah did take him somewhere, that didn't mean he wasn't already halfway around the world.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a door opening. He craned his neck and caught sight of several figures coming into the room. And at their head was indeed Zachariah.

"Sam, glad you're awake," the angel said, pretending a congenial attitude as he came and stood over Sam. "Can't say you look so good, but that is one of the hazards of drinking demon blood. Filthy stuff and hard to shake." He shook his head in mock sympathy. "I always knew you were an abomination, Sam. Looks like I was right."

Sam shook his head. "You're wrong," he tried to convince himself as he said it.

"Am I?" Zachariah raised his eyebrows. "If I was, would you be here right now?" Sam glared up at him and Zachariah sighed.

"Don't worry, Sam. I'm actually here to help you. I'm going to cleanse you of your uncleanness." The way he said it with a barely concealed smile told Sam exactly what he had planned. He began to truly understand, with growing horror, what it must have been like for Cas when he had to suffer through the 're-education' in heaven.

"I'm not unclean," he protested, again trying to convince himself along with Zachariah.

"Oh, Sam, don't fool yourself," Zachariah sneered. "You've always been unclean. The demon blood, well, that was just the straw the broke the camel's back, so to speak." He nodded to the other angels who came over, dragging a cart with them.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to loosen his bonds again as he could guess what was coming next. He watched as the angels took an iron brazier that was filled with glowing coals, and poured something from a pot over it, causing it to flare up with high-reaching flames. Sam could feel the heat on his face and flinched. His body was already burning off the demon blood and the thought of being anywhere near fire made him sweat even more.

Zachariah took up a brand that had also been on the cart and placed the end into the brazier. "The only true cure for uncleanness is holy fire. We'll see if this can't burn away some of your filth." He pulled the brand from the flames and its end was glowing red hot. Sam began struggling all over again, jerking at the bands that held him to the table, but it did little good.

"No, don't," he warned as Zachariah came closer with the brand. "No! Stop! No!" The hot metal descended and Zachariah pressed it right to the center of Sam's chest. The hunter screamed, the smell of burning flesh, and fabric from his shirt, filling his nose as he was consumed with the agony. This was so much worse than a regular burn. It was like it was going right past his skin and flesh and into his soul. He could tell instantly that the holy fire did not mix well with the demon blood. The poison was roiling even more furiously inside of him and the pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"That's better," Zachariah said with a pleased smile as he watched Sam writhe on the table. "Making progress already, aren't we, Sam?"

Sam could only let out a half moan, half sob, clenching his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside, even though it didn't seem like it was going to lessen any time soon. Before he could even get his breath back, Zachariah had lowered the brand again and pressed it into his side. Sam screamed so hard he thought he would shatter his vocal chords. Zachariah thankfully lowered the brand after that, though Sam wasn't stupid enough to think this was the end of it.

"You know what I think, Sam? I think it's about time Dean knows what's going on here. We'll see how far big brother will go to secure your wellbeing."

Sam groaned, knowing what road that would lead to. "No, please," he managed to choke out.

Zachariah just gave him a patronizing smile and handed the brand to one of his lackeys who put it back into the brazier for a reheating. "Keep him occupied. I think it's Dean Winchester's nap time."

Sam wanted to protest again for all the good it would do, but by then the angel lackey had taken out the brand and applied it to his skin again and he forgot everything else but the pain.

Dean was dreaming of driving down the highway alone in Baby when Zachariah appeared in the passenger seat. He instantly slammed on the breaks and pulled off to the side of the road.

"Where the hell is my brother, you dick?" Dean demanded.

Zachariah gave him an infuriating smile, holding up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, calm down, Dean. We'll get straight to it if that's what you want. I see you've figured out I have Sam, so we can skip the introduction. I suppose you probably also know what I want in exchange for him."

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, kinda obvious."

Zachariah nodded. "Good, then we can talk terms. I'll trade the life of Sam Winchester for one yes."

Dean smiled humorlessly. "You really think you're gonna get me that easy?"

Zachariah gave a dramatic sigh. "Of course not. You two are the most stubborn hairless apes on this planet. I never expect you to do anything easy. Which is why I took some…shall we say…collateral measures?"

They were suddenly standing in a sterile room that looked like something you would find in a hospital morgue and Zachariah was smiling in a way that Dean really hated. "Here are my terms, Dean. You agree to meet me at the appointed spot at the appointed time and I will let your brother go free if you say yes to Michael."

"And if I don't?" Dean growled.

Zachariah shrugged nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, if you don't, then I keep doing this to him."

A table suddenly materialized in the room with Sam strapped to it and two angels standing over him, one holding a glowing brand. Sam's cheeks were streaked with tears and there were several burn marks already in his shirt, showing the red flesh underneath. His eyes blew wide as he saw the brand coming again, pleading before it was pressed to his flesh and an inhuman scream emanated from his throat, tearing Dean apart from the inside out.

"You son of a bitch!" he snarled at Zachariah, grabbing his angel blade, and raising it above his head.

"Ah-ah, Dean," Zachariah said, shaking his head. "You can imagine killing me if it makes you feel better but it won't really do me any harm. We're only in your head, after all. The best thing you can do for Sam is comply with my terms." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This is the address and time of the meeting spot. I suggest you be there."

Dean snagged it, and went to stab the bastard anyway, but Zachariah was already gone, as was Sam.

Dean woke with a gasp and realized he was still in the Impala, in Bobby's scrap yard. Empty cans of beer littered the seat beside him and he had the information Zachariah had given him in his head—along with the image of Sammy screaming in agony.

Dean didn't even waste any time. He pulled the keys from his pocket, put them in the ignition, and with a roar of the motor, Baby was off, already heading to the meeting spot, which was several hours away.

Dean just hoped that was enough time to figure out a plan, because otherwise he was totally screwed.