SYMBOLS

Spoiler alert until the beginning of season 10!

So this is my first Supernatural fanfiction … and well, I don't know … I didn't really like the end of 5x16. I think, Dean is such an idjit for trashing the amulet! This is why I got some thoughts how all this could have go on and took some concise situations for that.

The dialogs could differ to the series if I wasn't attentive enough. If they are, I'm sorry!

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine; I just build the story around.

BROTHERHOOD

"You alright?" Dean asked shooting a glance at his gasping brother.

"Define alright," Sam responded while grabbing at his phone even before his breathing calmed down.

Dean couldn't believe it about what had occurred a few minutes ago. He had been dead…Sam had been too! They had been killed and sent to heaven! Heck, they both had gone to heaven! And they had seen…Pamela…and Ash. Anguish overtook him and he kept the images of the two fallen friends for a moment in his mind. Then he focused on … could he still say reality after all he had already seen? He dialed a well-known phone number and after a short talk Castiel had zapped himself into their dirty motel room.

"Maybe… maybe Joshua was lying." Castiel said desperately.

Nearly simultaneously, the two brothers looked at him and raised their eyebrows in disbelief.

Cass leaned almost looking blue against the divider and gazed into space.

Dean gulped uneasily. He knew how his heavenly friend felt right now, knew how it was to suddenly lose all hope. How often had he also been at that point? He heard Sam's clothes rustle quietly when he shifted his weight.

"I don't think he was, Cass," Sam mumbled sadly, "I'm sorry," a soft sigh escaped through his lips.

Castiel suddenly turned away from them and went towards the door. Dean's attentive eyes followed each of Cass's convulsive motions.

"You son of a bitch. I believed in … ", Cass whispered brokenly, looking towards the ceiling.

If Castiel hadn't been an angel, Dean would have expected he would demolish all of the furnishings in his anger and despair. Well, that would have been what Dean would have done, he had done that so many times before. Hesitating, he wanted so badly to step up to the lost angel, however, he thought better and stopped himself at the last second.

Castiel's full attention was skywards, but nothing, absolutely nothing showed up. No miraculous radiance, no revelation, nothing. Sadly, Cass lowered his head and focused his attention to Sam and Dean, who didn't really know what to say.

Without looking at them he grabbed for something that was in one of the pockets of his trench coat and consequently brought something small and crumpled into the light.

"I don't need this anymore," Cass explained stiffly to them and with that, threw the object with a flourish to Dean, "It's worthless".

Again a lump formed in Dean's throat, as he realized what Cass had thrown at him. The cold leather bound necklace laid in his hand, the amulet dangling from the end. Remembering when his brother had given it to him as a present on that fateful Christmas so long ago, he could almost see little Sammy in front of him again and how Sam had pushed the gift into his hand.

"Cass, wait," Dean suddenly heard his brother start to say, but a faint flapping noise cut off whatever he wanted to say, as Cass's hunched figure disappeared.

Upset, Sam threw his shirt onto his bed and stepped to his brother who still stared at the object in his hand.

"We'll find another way," Sam said, trying to save the situation, "We can still stop all this, Dean!"

When Dean turned to his head to his brother, Sam could see that Dean's eyes were filled with hopelessness. Seeing that look in his brother's eyes broke something inside him.

Dean stared at Sam vacantly, "How?" He muttered monotonously.

Decisively, Sam walked to his brother and looked into his face and said, "I don't know, but we'll find it. You and me, we always find a way!"

Dean's expression spoke volumes and without saying a word, he took his bag and passed by his brother. He stood in front of the door silently, letting the amulet dangle over the black trash bin. Letting out a breath, he let the amulet fall from his hand into the trash bin.

To Sam, it felt like he was also falling, with no chance of something to hang on to.

Dean opened the door to the motel and stepped out into the sunshine.

Alone now, Sam took a deep breath. Maybe they don't have to fall alone! If there was a possible way to hold on tight, they would hold each other. And if Dean wouldn't reach his arms to be held by his brother, Sam would just have to stretch a little bit further. Vigorously, he breathed air into his chest, letting new, lively air pour in and walked to the trash. He wouldn't let Dean fall just like that! He reached into the bin and pulled the necklace out. Hurriedly, he wiped it off and slid it into his trouser pocket. Then he snatched his duffle bag and followed his brother out of the room. The cold amulet pressing against his leg.

CAGE

Sam breathed in the torturously hot air of the Cage. It burned his lungs, made the muscles in his throat spasm and made his throat dry up like a desert, but he still gulped it down greedily. He had had to go for too long without the relieving oxygen. He tried to recover for a moment. The sweat ran over his naked body and fell in small drops down onto the slippery floor where blood and other bodily fluids mixed.

Rolling laughter reached his ears and bored its way into his brain, he started shaking and tried to calm down at least a little bit. Tensing slightly, he hung from the chains holding him up, when the source of the shocking sound came closer.

"Now, now, Sammy! We don't want to stop now, not when it is starting to be so much fun, do we?" Lucifer giggled maniacally from his position close to Sam's head and his finger nails traced over the contours of Sam's face.

Gently, Lucifer's hand stroked his jaw bone and chin until he suddenly grabbed Sam's throat with his claw like hands and pressed down on Sam's exposed throat. Croaking, Sam panted for breath, but was immediately interrupted by the deceptively warm voice.

"I would get bored then!" Lucifer purred mock lovingly, then snorted at Sam one last time and let him slip back into his initial position in the chains.

Sam cried out a scream of pain and lowered his head to save the strength necessary to survive this place. The last of the water in his body was pressed out as tears and immediately dried on his cheeks. The salt from his tears burned on his wounded skin. He had to stand up! Carefully, he brought forth pictures of his memories and held them in the front of his mind.

The Cage disappeared and instead of the darkness, a light day built itself around him. A few people sat on a couch and watched something on television. Sam stood behind them and wished he could really put his hands on their warm heads to see how they would turn and look at him. Determined, Sam fought to stand on shaking legs. His many aching joints, a bone that could be seen, and the many uncountable wounds that remained blinded him with pain, but after a while Sam stood nearly upright in front of the fallen angel. Sniffling, he tried to keep his eyes on the Devil.

"I tip my hat to you," Lucifer granted him looking amused. "You are stronger than I thought, Sam Winchester! What is it that let you resist? Your darling brother?"

He poked at one of the wounds on Sam's body and laughed again when Sam flinched and had to fight to keep his balance.

"Your brother thinks you're dead! Do you hear me?! He will never search for you and if he tries he will never find you! You will never see him again!"

Sam pulled his face away from him and closed tortured his eyes. Immediately after, a blow hit him in his stomach which tore the air from his body and made him gasp for air.

"Hey … Stay with me Sammy," his tormentor said, "Did you know Dean almost scrapes out his eyes every night and that he'll never be happy?"

'He lies!' Sam said to himself desperately, 'He lies, lies, lies!'

"Oh no … I don't lie!" Lucifer gloated, "Now, let's go on! We have managed something more today. First the hard work and … well, pleasure at the same time for me! Cute little Michael has to be next in line, too." With relish he rummaged through his mind for the many possibilities of torture for the young hunter.

Meanwhile, Sam was in danger of being overwhelmed by the many memories of his life … of all the times that he had on hunts with Dean. At that time when they had done away with their first ghost after Sam had gone to Stanford – the white woman. At that time when Jess had died. At that time when they had met Cass. Oh, Cass! In panic, Sam's thoughts raced while he observed Lucifer getting closer.

Unnoticed by the Devil, Sam's hand slipped into his trouser pocket near the table where Lucifer had all his torture tools, and felt for the necklace and held onto it, it had made Sam feel safe from the madness that tried to overpower his mind- or so he hoped. Trembling, his bloodstained thoughts clasped at the only thing which had helped him out in his life. The sharp points of the amulet bit into his chapped skin, but that was nothing compared to the torture that was inflicted on him by the ones who were with him here in Lucifer's Cage.

CLOWNS

Tensely, Sam got out of the dark car and looked around. He disliked everything about this situation. It's not just that Dean wasn't with him … a sudden sound made him spin around … he froze.

A grisly laugh escaped the multicolored clown who had suddenly built himself up in front of Sam. Horrified, Sam gasped and stumbled several steps backwards. The clown didn't lose its dirty grin and came after him.

Sam immediately raced off. He ran faster and faster, his feet pounding on the tarmac of the parking lot. He couldn't make any coherent thoughts, he just wanted to get away. Repeatedly, he turned his head around and searched his environment for the clown. Swiftly, he ducked behind a parked car and tried to take deep breaths.

'You know, it's stupid!' he shouted in his thoughts, 'It's nothing to worry about … your letting your nightmares become real!' A panicked laugh squeezed out of his throat. Suddenly, he remembered Dean's words. He pulled the face of his brother to the front of his mind's eye and took a shaking breath.

"It's okay! They can't hurt you … They can hurt you … ! Okay, if it bleeds, you can kill it! If it bleeds, you can kill it!" he muttered under his breath like a mantra.

Then he carefully looked over the car. In the middle of an empty parking space, stood the clown. His green hairs shimmered in the sallow light and he laughed again, just as if trying to kill Sam Winchester was the greatest enjoyment he could possibly imagine.

Sam's eyes widened. All of his good plans were immediately forgotten. He just one plan: run away! Hysterically, he jumped up from behind the car and sprinted to a big building. His flight almost stuttered to a halt when he looked behind him at the clown, but then he finally reached the rusty door. Breathing hard, he broke it, ran inside and wedged the door shut. For a moment there is silence, and he recklessly summons up hope. Maybe this insane figment of his imagination couldn't get through the door?

Just when he had conceived this thought, his hastily erected barricade flew away like a toy. Shocked, Sam stared at the clown whose huge yellow ribbon covered his half chest. Then his determination returned to him. He didn't die a zillion times, lose his brother to damn hell, get locked in the Cage for a long time, lose his soul and regain it by the freaking Death himself, just to go down now on a boringly normal case!

Unconfident, he gulped, turned and wanted to just run off again, when something obstructed his path. It was plump, had short green curly hair and had the same colored clothes as Sam's pursuer – another clown.

'Oh Dean, please, save me?!' He thought desperately, while his subconscious registered a small object in his pocket. The amulet had supported him in so many dangerous situations now … Dean would make it! He just had to survive until his brother could help him get out of danger.

Rage bubbled up in stomach and when the clown gleefully came closer, Sam held still, feeling determined. Maybe he would die, but certainly would not go down without fighting!

HUMAN MIND

The warm hands of the young woman loosened the armband to check his blood pressure and swapped to the thermometers. Sam just sat there and allowed the nurse to do what she needed to. He couldn't have prevented it, and it's not like he could get out of here anyway. Vacantly, he watched her and how she bustled around the small room.

Suddenly Lucifer's voice captured his attention. "Hm … Narcissistic Personality Disorder … Okay, now, this one I could have!" He seemed amused.

Exhausted Sam lowered his head. How long could he go on like this? How often did he have to hear the Devil's voice, which left the smell of burned meat in his nose every time, which caused dyspnea each time and left him feeling a flaming heat dance over his bare skin?

"Time for meds, Sam" the nurse ordered, but Lucifer was far from leaving him alone.

"Sets unrealistic goals? Check."

It seems to be a big, stupid game to drive Sam to insanity! No, it was a very amusing game for him to see how long the big, strong, Sam Winchester could handle his presence.

"But trouble keeping healthy relationships?" He kept speculating, "Not so sure about that one … thoughts?"

A bright light burned his eyes and Sam tried to painstakingly return to more conscious thought. Somebody bent over him … it wasn't Lucifer … maybe the doctor?

"Sam?" Yep, that was Dr. Kadinsky's voice, definitely not Lucifer – hopefully! "How you feeling now?"

The words struggled slowly in his awareness, when he suddenly shuddered. Lucifer stood right behind the doctor and obviates with a complacent smile.

"His soul is broken, Doc," he whispered to the unware doctor. "Can you give him a pill?"

Desperately, Sam closed his eyes for a moment. Each word, sounded in his skull like a well-aimed hammer blow against his temple. His environment just didn't become keen on helping him out. Consistently the décor became indistinct in front of Sam's eyes and the shadows flew into each other.

"I can't give you any more medication. The potential for overdose is too great," the doctor began, when he realized that Sam could follow him at least a little bit.

Lucifer smirked at him over whose shoulder.

Sam let his eyes look down to his finger nails and immediately the words of Marin came into his mind. Blood had gathered everywhere on the slowly furling nails.

"We need to talk about surgical solutions," Dr. Kadinsky explained him as cautious as possible.

Readily Lucifer's face lightened still more, if this wasn't an imagination inside an imagination.

"Ooh! Lobotomy?" He enthusiastically approached Sam's doctor who certainly couldn't perceive the delusion.

"It's okay, we're not talking about lobotomy here!" he hurried to calm Sam down.

Lucifer's disappointed face and how he mumbled 'Darn!' would've been a little funny if Sam's brain hadn't decided that right now he wasn't going to follow the debilitating conversation anymore. Tormented, Sam could only just glance at the two figures in front of his bed, then his perception of reality was obliterated again, but he could still feel something small and cold in the palm of his hand.

SOLITUDE

Bewildered, Sam just stared at the place where his brother had stood not long ago. It happened all … just to fast! First Dick had been there and then Dean had rammed the bone in his throat. Dick had then pulsated strangely … it has just been these … peculiar waves … just like sonar waves. Then he … exploded? To a black fluid which still covered the walls of the whole room. Protectively, Sam had turn to Kevin and when they both had glanced up again … the room had been empty … just empty.

Dean had been gone. Cass had been gone. Sam had difficulty trying to breath when he remembered Kevin. Cowley had appeared only a moment ago, just after Dick Roman's death. With a snap of his fingers he and Kevin had disappeared. Through all of this, Sam was fairly certain that Crowley knew where Dean and Cass were right now.

Dean …

A tight band seemed to be put around Sam's chest. It contracted more and more. All of his muscles clenched painfully and he heard how his heartbeat echoed through his body. A prickling feeling rose up behind his face and stole his last remaining breath. Unable to free himself of this spell, he stumbled backwards until he felt the hard wall at his back.

His knees buckled, as if they suddenly determined they don't want to work anymore. Powerless, he slipped down to the floor and leaned the head back. Suddenly the sour feeling pressed against the inside of his nose and eyes.

Again … again he hadn't been able to save his brother. Again he had to split up with Dean. Again he had to find a way back to life without hope, without friends.

Automatically his hands lifted and raked through his entangled hair. A sob started out of his chest and fought up his throat and finally got out as a broken sounding noise outside of his trembling body. As if the spell was broken, more darting sounds released.

His fingers went through his jacket pocket until they found what their owner wanted to find. Numbly he pulled the amulet out of the darkness. He pressed it against his vibrating chest. The cold metal left a sharp impression behind. A lonely tear rolled from the corner of Sam's eye, paused hesitantly at his nose, carried its way on over his curved cheek and composed itself at his stubbly chin, before it fell to the floor soundlessly.

WITH OR WITHOUT GRACE

Still being a little bedeviled Sam entered his room. He closed the door and laid yawning onto the bed.

He was healthy. Completely healthy. Doubtfully, he stroked his arms which obviously felt equal like a half hour ago, and still he was different. The Grace of Gadreel wasn't entirely removed from him but it wasn't enough to trace the angel. Disappointed, he sat up again and leaned with his back to the wall.

All of the agonies and pains had been quite futile. Morosely, he disguised his restless fingers in his pockets. When his right hand encountered something, he hesitated for a moment, but finally he pulled out the thing which looked downright tiny on his huge palm. The leather strap was almost ruptured and the metal was lusterless of rubbing so often between fingers. Unnoticed, he had accidentally washed it a few times. A stitch shot through Sam's body when he realized that, but he didn't waste any thought as to what once had been so incredibly important to him, for days, quite accurately since Dean was gone.

Gently, he stroked over the amulet and it seemed as if he saw Dean right before him again, how he cautiously took delivery of the gift and reverently stroke the piece of newspaper which Sam had used to wrap it in. Sam had been intent on giving the necklace to Dean and Dean had been intent on never losing grip … and never leaving Sam. And yet both happened.

What else could come, what else could make him feel lower than the separation of his brother? What else could become worse than Dean's betrayal and his leaving?

"We always could catch ourselves yet," a shy voice reported out of Sam's inside, "We always hold us!"

He turned his glance to the ceiling. "Really?" He whispered.

Dean's stay in hell, his demon-blood-addiction, the many deaths, the many sacrifices, Jo, Ellen, Kevin, Bobby, …

"We hold us?! Don't make me laugh!" Sam's voice became bitter. "We always pulled all of them away from the chasm, but instead they fell. They had to pay for our mistakes, for our 'love'".

He hadn't the heart to pronounce the last word differently than tossing it into the room. What did they do to all of their friends, their family, all of the innocent?! Starting with their own parents!

"No."

Sam glanced up. Castiel stood in front of his bed and looked at him with his bright blue eyes, his head in his typical tilted position, the dark hair tousled, a smile hardly on his lips.

"You're wrong," the angel objected again when Sam didn't answer. "You saved so many lives!"

Sam snorted contemptuously through the nose. "Yeah, Cass, but at what price? The angels fell because we cared about them, Lucifer came out of his Cage because we cared about them, the freaking apocalypse was triggered because of US, Cass, WE just only cared about ourselves!" His voice cracked.

Cass's eyes constricted a bit. "Sam, I was a human long enough to understand what you are feeling right now. I … I know that feeling very well." Castiel broke the eye contact by lowering his head.

"It's kinda ever-present". Sam said standing up from the bed, but even while he took a breath, Castiel interrupted him.

"Why, Sam?"

Uncomprehendingly, Sam stared at him.

"Why can humans like your brother and you see the good in everyone else, but yourselves?"

Sam bit his lip. "Are you saying I should filter out the positives of my atrocities and forget the remaining?!" He sizzled. He couldn't do that!

"Far from that, Sam. You should unite the halves! The good and bad thoughts, you will find peace. Don't forget anything. Not the bad, but in no case the good, too! Because if you forget the good half, you'll drown in yourself."

Silent and immovable, Sam stood in the room. The necklace dangled in his sagging hand. He stayed poised like that for a while, then he tightened his hand around the leather tightly, closed his fist around the good and kept it with him to unite.

REGENERATION

Together they entered the old Impala. Silently they sat next to each other, Dean behind the steering wheel and Sam in the passenger seat – just as always. All was as always. They finished the case.

Actually they finished countless cases. Some of them hadn't ended good. Not for all, but they had given there all trying not to have it end like that.

They had given all and more for each other, died for each other, had let themselves be tortured for each other, had retracted each other from the others side so often that the boundaries between black and white became indistinct to a blurred grey.

Several hours they drove like that through the night. Silent. Lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, Sam heard Dean reach into his jacket pocket and pull something that rattled, out. It was a replica of the amulet. Dean hung it on the rearview mirror of the black 67' Chevy Impala.

Sam's hand moved secretly into his own pocket. Spinning the cold piece of metal between his fingertips, he thought about pulling it out but finally decided against doing that. The amulet was a piece of his brother, and he had always felt better, if he had his brother by his side.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean's turned his head to him, and once more their gazes met. Glances in which nothing else but … well, how to say it different … nothing else than love. No boundaries could distance them from each other, even if it had been really close at some times and it seemed that Sam and Dean had split up forever. They still had found back to each other, held each other, still could pull back from the lurching hold of the chasm, and if one of them would topple, the other would inevitably carry the other one off.