This is a continuation of "Six Months In, Six Months Out," and picks up right where that one left off: the crossroads demon has come to claim Dean. It is strongly advised that you read that story first. It sets the tone for this one.

This storyline was inspired by Phx, so I send out a big thank you to her! Fair warning: things are going to get a little dark.

Thanks also to Faye Dartmouth, who was kind enough to beta this one.

I own nothing. Reviews craved.

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Last time, at the end of "Six Months In, Six Months Out":

"Well, this is touching," a female voice interrupted.

Dean cringed, knowing the voice must belong to the demon.

Time was up.

Fallen

Chapter 1: Worst Nightmares

The new voice made them both jump. Dean turned to see a fairly attractive redhead, standing about five feet from them. He wondered if this demon ever used the same body twice. She was smirking at them, reddish eyes glinting in the moonlight. Dean glanced at Sam, who was staring the "woman" down with unabashed hatred in his eyes.

"I'm glad you didn't run, Dean," she purred, "saves the hounds a lot of time and effort."

Dean shook his head, not willing to trade jibes with her. "Let's just get this over with."

He felt Sam tense beside him. "No…"

She turned an amused gaze on Sam. "Still a little denial going around?"

Dean stepped forward, partially blocking his brother. "Leave him alone. Just do it and get out of here."

She just shrugged.

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Much to Sam's shock, there was no ritual, no bright lights or loud sounds, or anything else. One minute, Dean was standing next to him, alive, the next, he crumpled to the ground, like the proverbial puppet with its strings cut. Even though the rational part of his mind knew immediately what had occurred, he still looked down in shock.

"Dean…?"

There was no answer. Sam dropped to his knees, realizing only when he was closer that Dean was no longer breathing. The horror sank in, while he stared into Dean's now lifeless, and still open, eyes. His brother was just…gone.

The rational part of him, the part that wanted to obey Dean's last wishes, told him that he should close Dean's eyes---it was the respectful thing to do---so he did. He loved his brother, and he'd do anything for him.

The irrational part of him, the part that had driven so hard and relentlessly to find a way out of this deal, refused to let Dean go without a fight. He hated the one who had taken Dean away, and he'd do anything to change this.

Anger swelled in him. Uncontrollable, soul-splitting rage. He brought his fist down on Dean's unmoving chest as hard as he could. The flesh didn't respond. Not a flinch, nothing. Sam lowered his forehead onto the spot he had struck, silently begging forgiveness.

"You shouldn't have done this," he gritted into Dean's coat, "how could you do this?!"

Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that.

"Damn it, Dean. Why?"

I had to. I had to look out for you.

Rage began to give way to grief, and Sam wanted to die right there, on the road beside his brother. But Dean had hidden the bullets.

He'd find more; it was as simple as that.

The sound of someone's foot crunching gravel caught his attention. By the time he'd raised his head to look, the anger was back. The demon. That fucking bitch of a demon.

Something shifted inside his skull. He didn't know what it was. He didn't care. Whatever it was, it was like a dam breaking. He rose and started walking.

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The demon turned away. Dean was hers now, at least for a little while. She couldn't wait to get him back to Hell. She'd take a lot of pleasure in taking her cut of this deal. Right off the top. A piece of Dean Winchester, for her very own---

Advancing footsteps behind her made her pause. Figures, she thought, they're both so pathetically needy….

She stopped, cocking her head when the stalking steps behind her slowed and then stopped as well.

"I can't keep making deals for you two," she sighed, exasperated. These two never knew when to quit. "It doesn't work that way. If it did, people would be making deals forever and nothing would ever get done."

The voice that replied was Sam's, but was about as far removed from the weepy, distraught man she'd heard earlier as she was from a Girl Scout.

"No deals. Give him back."

Surprised by the belligerence, she turned, expecting to see Sam holding a gun at her head, or some other wholly pointless gesture. Instead, she saw only Sam, glowering. Had she been human, she supposed, his looming height might have proven intimidating at that moment. The murderous light in his eyes would have turned most mortal creatures to jelly. But she wasn't easily intimidated, especially not by humans.

"Sorry, Sammy…he made his choice."

He cocked his head, and she was again surprised…this time by the fact that the gravel on the road was shaking. She glanced down at it in fascination. It was as if there was a minor earthquake underway. He stepped closer.

"Maybe. But, you don't have one. Give him back. He's mine. You have no right to him."

She smirked, somewhat curious over the change in this human, but not overly concerned. "Read the fine print, handsome. He weasels out; you go back to being dead."

"He's not weaseling out. You're giving him back. NOW!"

Her amusement ended. This human might be powerful---somehow---but she'd been around a lot longer, and she played by the rules. Most of the time. But, when she opened her mouth to tell Dean's impudent brother what to go do with himself…she couldn't.

He was choking her. Not her human host. Her. The inky black cloud that was her true form began to leak out of the human she'd taken as a skin. She tried to reel herself back in, but she was hemorrhaging out too fast. Before she could stop it, she was extricated from the young woman's body, and she soon found herself floating just above the road, in front of the furious, grief-stricken young man.

"Return my brother, or you're going to die…."

Her answered wheezed directly into his mind. "You kill me…he'll never come back…."

There was some sort of shift in Sam's mind, she felt it. It was like a switch flipping. When he spoke, the words seemed to pierce her form like blades.

"Fine. I won't kill you."

Incomprehensibly, pain sparked along the edges of her consciousness, mind-rending, world-eclipsing pain.

"Give him back to me, and I'll end this," he offered. The cold words were almost congenial. Almost.

"I-- I can't--- There has to be a trade...it's the rules," she stammered.

The pain that lapped at her like flames flared, shaking her to the core of her incorporeal being. Sam's voice, impossibly, turned colder. "All you needed to free Evan Hudson was Dean's word to let you out of that devil's trap."

Reality for the demon began to warp. She felt herself beginning the process that would return Dean Winchester to his body. Confusion turned to shock when she realized that Sam was forcing her to do his bidding.

Appalled at the violation of her self-control, she fought back, but the pain grew exponentially when she did. Regardless of the agony that washed over her concsciousness, she continued to resist, until finally she could fight no more. Her will bent until it broke, and she did as Sam commanded her.

She placed Dean back where she got him. She felt the life spark back into the still body on the road with a startled gasp. Horrified at her subjugation, she turned her attention back to the younger brother, remembering with awful clarity the way her yellow-eyed comrade had talked about him.

Sammy's very special to me….

He's the one. At least, the one my money's on….

I suspect Dean will do anything to change it…even come to you. When he does, do what he asks. Make it worth your while, of course. I don't care about the brother's fate.

Return Sam as he is, with those paralyzing subconscious memories of death…I think that'll do nicely….

As she hovered before the human so favored by her fellow demon, she began to understand why he was so special. She'd kept tabs on the psychic children being brought to Cold Oak. Not for much reason beyond her own curiosity.

Ava had to fight to control demons. Jake wasn't very good at it at all…he was better at controlling the minds of these pathetic flesh-bags.

But Sam Winchester….

Sam was controlling her effortlessly, even if he was only vaguely aware of it through the walls of his grief. She could sense the power building in his mind, overwhelming him. She wondered if he was even conscious at this point, or just acting on instinct.

Fearful of angering the all-too-powerful psychic, she mustered her most congenial tone and spoke directly into his mind.

"There. It's done. Release me, please."

The cold, piercing hatred that had enveloped her didn't lessen. If anything, it got worse, and she really started worrying.

"You made a wise choice."

A moment's relief flooded her being. But, only a moment's. She began to feel invisible talons clawing at her. When the blast came, it totally blindsided her.

Sam tore her apart with a thought.

As the dismembered pieces of her consciousness began to fade away, she recognized the chilling approach of death. Few of her ilk knew the sensation anymore, but she recognized it from centuries of deal-making and overseeing the payoffs of countless souls.

She had never expected it to be her own that she felt. And her last thought was one of disbelief before the darkness took her.

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Sam blinked a few times; his eyes were dry and hurting, like they'd been open for a long time. The blurred vision slowly cleared and he tried to get his bearings.

Somehow he'd ended up on his knees on the gravel road. His head was pounding, similar to the aftermath of one of his visions, but stronger, more painful. Even the sound of his breathing grated against his raw nerves.

Something wet and sour was dripping down his face. When he wiped at it with his hand, the appendage came back bloody. What's going on? The last thing he remembered was kneeling over Dean---

Dean.

Dean was dead.

He had been kneeling over his dead brother.

Oh God, no…DEAN!

Sam turned, forcing himself to his feet and looking back toward the parked Impala. Dean rested just where Sam remembered him, and the young man's world shattered all over again. Grief and pain washed over him like a tide, and he was just about to let go and collapse back to the ground when he saw it.

Dean's chest rose.

Then it fell.

Then the cycle repeated.

Dean was breathing.

Despair turned to surprise, then to shock. Dean was alive. But how? The deal had been completed, Sam was sure of that. But, his brother was breathing not twenty feet from him.

Wasn't he? Or, was this all a delusion? Maybe he'd gone crazy out here. Thinking back a few days, he couldn't dismiss the notion out of hand.

Pushing aside his confusion and doubt, he struggled to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. He had to get to Dean and see if he was really okay. It took a lot of effort to even walk, but he picked up speed. Desperate need propelled him.

His forward movement stopped abruptly when his feet flew out from under him and gravel raced up to meet his chin. Gasping in surprise and pain, he clawed at the loose rocks as he slid backwards, away from Dean and his goal. Something was pulling him.

Sharp claws and heavy tendrils gripped his legs and sides, dragging him. He fought back but could find no purchase. As he felt a cold black mist envelope him, he cried out.

"DEAN!"

For the second time in one night, he was losing his brother, the only person left on Earth that he dared to love. The first time, something had taken Dean from him. Now, something was taking him from Dean.

As the darkness smothered him, he heard a chilling word reverberate through his mind.

Finally….

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Dean woke with a gasp, like he hadn't breathed in--- However long...

He wasn't sure where he was, at first, since all he could see was black. The twinkle of stars in that darkness made him think at first that he was maybe floating somewhere. Space? He and Sammy had pretended to be astronauts when they were little.

Of course, there'd been no stars then, just a blanket over a cardboard box and Sammy's laughter. And, now, while there were stars...there was no Sammy laughing.

Dean hadn't heard Sam laugh for real in...what? Weeks, now?

Sam...

The last thing Dean clearly remembered was standing on a gravel road, waiting for the crossroads demon to show up. Had she appeared?

Well, this is touching...

She had, it was coming back to him. But...if she had come for him...and he wasn't dead...

On the other hand, he might be in hell. Dean frowned. He wasn't going to figure it out lying on his back. Rolling onto his side, he gathered his strength and pushed himself up.

He appeared to be alone. No demon. No Sam. Nobody.

Getting to his feet was a clumsy exercise. His limbs didn't want to cooperate at first. But, he eventually managed to work his way up, and stepped over to rest against the hood of the Impala.

At least his baby was still there.

He idly rubbed at his chest. It felt like a nasty bruise was forming there. It was almost like he'd been punched, but he didn't remember that happening.

Once he thought he could walk around, he moved away from the car and looked around. It was the same road. He was certain of that. Same gravel, same trees in the distance, same funky smell from the ditch on the left.

About twenty feet from the car, he saw them. Claw marks in the gravel of the road. Something had been dragged...away from the car from the look of it. Something with big hands.

A part of Dean's mind screamed SAM.

Had his brother found a last-minute way to break the deal? Had he traded himself away the way Dean had feared he might? Were these tracks in the gravel evidence of his little brother being dragged away by the demon's hell hounds?

Too many questions swirled around in his already disoriented brain. Dizziness mixed with nausea and he found himself gagging. He dropped to his knees and hung his head. The pungent odor of sulfur assaulted his nose, making the bile rise further up his throat. He covered his nose with one hand to try and block the smell, but he couldn't stop staring at the tracks.

He was still sitting like that when headlights illuminated the area. He glanced back, but, blinded by the glare, he turned went back to staring at the claw marks on the ground.

With the new light, Dean could see blood on some of the rocks.

With increasing certainty, he believed that the marks were made by his little brother.

The sounds of a car engine running, a door opening, and gravel crunching under foot was punctuated by an astonished whisper.

"Dean?"

At the name, he looked behind him, finding Bobby staring back, open-mouthed. It took Dean's muddled brain a few seconds to remember that the older man had been there for backup. To pick up Sam and the pieces after the deal went through.

Looked like Bobby's job had changed.

Best laid plans… Dean thought grimly.

"What happened?" Bobby prompted.

Dean just shook his head. What had happened? He didn't have an answer, so he posed a question of his own.

"Do you know where Sammy is?"

Bobby looked around for a moment, flabbergasted. "No. A few minutes ago, the gravel on the road was shaking. I thought it was a damned earthquake."

"In the Midwest?" Dean asked. If he'd had more sense about him, his tone would have been incredulous. But, it merely sounded flat to him.

Bobby didn't notice his lethargy. "That's what I thought, so I came on in early."

The older man hesitated, crouching down so he could see Dean at eye level. Dean figured it was a stalling tactic. "So…don't take this the wrong way…but why are you still alive?"

"I don't know. I think I died…you know, again," Dean laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "But then I woke up---over there, by the car---and I saw these."

Bobby followed Dean's gaze to the marks in the road. Apparently, the older hunter came to the same conclusion as Dean had. "Sam?"

"I guess he did something stupid…." Dean whispered, the misery of the last few moments flaring up. "Maybe--- Maybe he got her to cancel the deal…somehow."

But Bobby was shaking his head. "No…I don't think so…."

"What makes you say that? I'm here. Sammy's not."

The other man huffed. "Dean, I know you're out of it right now, but think about this. One, he knew how you felt about your Daddy's deal. He wouldn't trade places with you because he knew you wouldn't want him to."

"He was so desperate, Bobby... He wasn't thinking clearly…."

Bobby continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Second, look at those marks. That demon took you over by the car. There aren't any marks. She just took you where you stood. But, these marks…if Sam made 'em, he didn't go willingly."

That caught Dean's attention. He stared hard at the tracks, then back at Bobby. "You think she took him? She reneged on the deal and took Sam instead…."

"Maybe. Or maybe something else did. I know I've never seen so much sulfur at a crossroads event before. Definitely not that bitch's M.O."

Something else…. Something took Sam. The words echoed in Dean's ears, building in intensity until he wanted to scream. He pushed himself to his feet, almost toppling if not for Bobby's steadying grip. "We have to find him…."

"I'm all for it," Bobby said. "But where do you want to start? Sam could be anywhere."

Dean considered that for a moment. When the yellow-eyed demon had taken Sam to Cold Oak a year earlier…. It was the same situation; they had no clues on where to start. And this time there was no Andy to send Dean a vision.

He shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter, Bobby. We just need to start looking."

The older man frowned, but then simply nodded. "Okay. We can make a few calls. Get the word out, at least."

The feeling of failure nauseated him. He'd sold his soul in exchange for Sam's life…now, it seemed, it had all been for nothing. The moment he was out of the picture, something had grabbed Sam and done God-knows-what with him. Dean had failed Sam simply by not being there in that final moment, when it counted.

Now, Dean was alone…again, like he'd been a year earlier when he'd held his brother's lifeless body in his arms on that muddy road.

He really began to wonder if he wasn't in Hell after all.

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Sam drifted towards consciousness. Even before he was fully awake, his nerve endings sent complaints to his brain. Everything hurt. He ached like he'd been thrown down a flight of stairs. Which, he supposed, wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The room wasn't bright---it was, in fact, quite gloomy---but even that small amount of illumination gave him a massive headache. He shut his eyes and tried to use his other senses.

The room, wherever it may be, was quiet. The sound of air blowing out of a vent was the only noise, so Sam assumed he was alone.

He was lying on his back, on a soft mattress. The fabric of the sheets was comfortable, and he tiredly tried to sink further into it to soothe his aching body.

Moving his arms brought his attention to his hands. The sting from both was frightful, but his right hand was throbbing, keeping time with his pulse. It twitched of its own accord, and the surge of pain was enough to force him upright, grasping the shaking appendage. He forced his eyes back open and looked down at it. His palm was covered in blood, and the hand felt broken, similar to when he'd broken it fighting that zombie girl with Dean---

Dean!

Panic drove him off the bed, cradling his wounded right hand in his stinging left. He needed to find Dean. The last time he'd seen his brother, he was alive and breathing on that gravel road. He had to get back there...from wherever this was.

He looked around, examining the room with his eyes this time. It looked like a basement that had been converted into a bedroom. There was the bed he'd woken up on, a nightstand, a dresser, and a small bathroom in the corner. No windows. The air was cooled by the vent he'd heard earlier. The only light came from a small, dim lamp on the nightstand.

Keeping his injured hand close to his stomach, Sam felt the walls, searching for any kind of door out of the room. He found one along the far wall, but it had no handle.

Must open from the outside... he thought. Where the hell am I?

"Are you all right, Sam?"

Sam spun around at the sudden voice---too fast as it turned out, since a wave of dizziness almost sent him to the floor---to see someone sitting in a chair in one dark corner. He could have sworn that corner had been empty earlier. Now, a figure sat, looking at him. It appeared to be a female.

"Azoreth gets a little overzealous...I hope he didn't hurt you too badly."

Sam blinked at her, trying to decide whether the person was real. "W-who are you?"

She stepped out into the room, and Sam could make out her features in the low light. The woman---if that's what she was---was gorgeous. Long, dark hair, high cheekbones, bright green eyes. Almost unnaturally green, actually... Her voice was silky when she spoke.

"I have a lot of names, Sam, but you can call me Jezebeth."

"Jezebeth?" He looked at her as she came closer. She was even more beautiful close up. He shook off the mesmerizing effect of her appearance, and tried to focus. Something was really wrong here.

"What do you want?"

She smiled warmly. "I'm here to help you, Sam. I've been waiting for you."

TBC