Temperance, Ohio is a small town straight from an 80s Rod Stewart video. Tourists come year-round to see the Amish style of living and to buy Christmas trinkets when Frankenmouth, Michigan is too far to travel. He never though this would be the scene of the last battle. Of course, it made sense. Every big city in the world was covered in darkness. Little cities were refugee camps in the floods of darkness and disease. The last scattered news reports before everything turned to dust and static made shivers move throughout his skin.

Sam didn't want to think of Dean now. No body, no grave, no goodbye. Dean had vaulted himself into darkness just to save that little girl in Chicago. Sam remembers the fear, that icy chill from being truly alone in the world. If you wanted to mark it in a calendar, that was the day his world truly ended, just like the Mayan calendar had predicted it would. Chicago was just the start.

Xavier had been Sam's guidepost as to which cities to visit, which kids were left who could give him some sort of road map to safety. Why he wanted safety, he couldn't say. Perhaps it was the tactics he knew to survive this? Perhaps he thought that he might find Dean alive and alone in some random city with amnesia? It was those what if thoughts that killed him the most. But the truth was simpler. He was scared. Everyone was scared.

Sam had more reason to be scared than most. He had no future in paradise. Demon blood coursed through his veins, Ruby's scent still fresh on him. Dean had been the good child. Dean had been the one that their father had sacrificed his own soul. Dean had been the one to detox him out of love, even when they'd really had nothing to keep them hunting anymore.

Sam didn't see the point to hunting now. For the first time in his life, his brains didn't matter and his brawn was useless. People couldn't ignore the demons, the angels, the horsemen, and every nightmare in between that was walking the face of the earth as nonchalantly as though mortal humans should have been expecting it. Sam knew it was supposed to be the big biblical picture. Perhaps the blood was screwing up his eyes.

Temperance, Ohio had fewer than three hundred residents, but still had two McDonalds. Bags of it littered the motel room. He had paid with the money off of a rich corpse that had been abandoned on the side of the road, his Hummer smashed by Pestilence's Mustang, no doubt in a hurry to wreak more havoc in the farmlands. These days, it seemed like the only one prospering was McDonalds.

Giving up his self-control, Sam reached down with his dusty and dirt-stained hands. He was wearing that white shirt again. He had cleaned and scrubbed the stain away physically. But Dean's blood was on this shirt. He took a swig of the dark whiskey, smiling darkly to himself in a mirror as a Sarah Palin looking mom type had berated him in the checkout line for buying filth. Why should he care? Was that woman just blind or stupid? Maybe both, leaving Sam wondering what it was that was worth saving.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?"

Sam looked at the ghostly voice in the mirror. It took him a moment to recall her features, even as her fingers plucked at the top button of his shirt. Mostly, she came to him as a skeleton, clothed in an opaque fire. He had a hard time recalling the pleasure of her human face.

"It is." Sam replied, taking a second swig of the whiskey just because she had mentioned it. He looked away from the mirror, walking over to his squeaky mattress and sitting, staring at the blank space filling his silent room.

"You should do something constructive."

"Nothing much left to do with my time."

Skeleton Ruby shook her smiling ghost skull, taking a seat next to him without much of a squeak. "That's not true. You're still a hunter no matter what. Even if you can't do any good catching, no use not seeing if there's something worth it here in Ohio."

Sam shrugged, looking for his shoes. Its not as though this new Ruby had any control over him. It was more or less to the point that Sam was feeling a swell of boredom and anger. A real hunt would take his mind off things and he thought he could probably scare up some trouble in a nearby clearing.

It had been apparent from the near start that Ruby had coordinated the whole debacle and Sam would have been suspicious if not for the fact that he couldn't have cared less. The only thing forcing him to care at the moment was the fact that Dean was present. True, it was not his Dean. Not anymore anyways.

"Sam Winchester. You have the smell of a demon all over you."

Sam had been shocked, stunned, unable for the first time to come up with something wittier than what he had said. "So what of it?"

"It's judgment day, Sammie. Do you know what that means for your kind?"

Sam was struggling naturally underneath his brother's white loafer, a burning anger replacing his dread as his brother had called him Sammie. Dean was wearing all white now. Sam didn't even have to look behind him. Castiel was there too, mentor to his brother. Or whatever was left of his brother in this angel's body.

"Dean, man, get your foot off my neck!"

This apparently enraged his brother. "How do you know my name, Winchester?"

Sam shook a little, his guts twisting inside of him. Even if he were to go to hell, he saw no point in recognizing it. The pain he felt right now under his brothers heel was worse than anything. It was all too Cain and Abel, really.

"Cas! I know you're there! Don't let him do this!"

Castiel's voice approached, shoes moving silently. "I'm sorry, Sam. But you know the rules in paradise, only children of God."

Sam grimaced. "But this isn't paradise yet! There aren't McDonalds in paradise. God, Dean, think about what you're doing!"

The print on the bottom of the loafer become meshed in Sam's skin. "Don't take our Lord's name in vain, puss of the earth."

Sam objected to being called puss. He reacted by trying to stop his body from shaking. He would have to calm down and have faith that somewhere inside that body was his brother, somewhere beyond where this new angel had taken residence. A memory flashed from a long time ago, before their dad had taught them to fight. He had come home with that same kind of mark on his neck and Dean had followed closely with a shiner on his eye. Their dad had celebrated by cooking the raw steak that mom had forced over Dean's shiner and making a meal from it for Dean and Sam.

Sam murmured to himself. "Brothers stick together."

Dean barked at the man under his heel. "What did you say worm?"

The first step to ending the stalemate was to getting out from under Dean's heel. Sam just had to try and catch him off-guard. "I said, brothers stick together. Just like our dad taught us when I was six. You should remember. That was the first time we had t-bones. You love t-bones."

There was a whoosh of air as Dean's leg came down hard on the ground next to Sam's neck. "Get up!"

Sam rolled away from the angel formerly known as his brother and stood. Surprised more than anyone that the first part had worked, he now went to work on the second part. He would have to chick flick this whole deal until he could finally break through to Dean. Something of Dean had to be in there still. "Thanks for that."

"You're real lucky Winchester. Talk like that about my father, any other angel would have broken you into pieces."

"So why didn't you?"

"Dean...Sam..." Castiel moved a foot forward.

Dean put his hand out to stop Castiel. "No, Castiel. I want to know what this demon thinks he knows about my father."

Sam swallowed hard. He didn't want this. He didn't want to do this at all. "Our father was a man who would give up his soul and let himself be tortured in hell rather than to see his favorite son suffer. He's the kind of man who taught his kids to defend themselves against demons after his wife was murdered by one. Do you need more proof? I know you're in there, Dean."

Castiel nearly shouted. "Sam, don't! Dean, don't listen to him."

Dean's nostrils flared. "Don't worry, Castiel." He turned to look at his mentor with doe eyes and then back to Sam with fire in them just as quickly. "You taught me about this, remember? Demons with sweet tongues and human memories to boot. I'm not falling for it."

The first hit came across Sam's jaw with the shock of thousands of lightning bolts. He shook his head clear and stood again. "Fine, you wanna hit me because some demon put blood in my system? That's fine, Dean. A nice ending to our story, huh? But what do you have in heaven, Cas? Think he's gonna be with you for all eternity? I know what he does to people who don't agree with him. Hell, he put Beaver to sleep when you first met just to get you two alone. You watched him light Alistair on fire!"

Castiel blinked, fuming at Sam. "Mr. Winchester, you don't know what you're talking about anymore. You've played your part, take your ending. God can have mercy on you."

Sam backed away a step. "Oh no. We're not going down this route. God's gonna have mercy on me. This is real convenient for you, isn't it Castiel? Take care of your brother's demon problem and it all goes away, doesn't it? Think about what you're doing, Dean!"

Sam braced for impact as the jaw stopped square on his chin.

Castiel came to Dean's side. "Finish this."

Dean's arm was shaking, although Sam couldn't discern why, even with wide eyes. Dean pulled back slowly. "No. He's got no hold on anything. Thinks I'm his brother. This delusional demon will be gone in a week."

He began to walk away, but Sam called for him. He couldn't help it. "Dean."

"Don't press your luck."

Castiel began to walk away with Dean. "Enlighten me with your thoughts on why he should live and where this mercy is present from."

"Because I hurt him without needing to touch him. There's still some human there to save. I want to monitor him."

Castiel grabbed for Dean's elbow, stopping him from walking too far. "That would be unwise."

"Fine then."

Sam felt the branches gore him only after the sticks began vaulting through his stomach. There was a painful, stinging sensation that caused his eyes to water further. It was like thousands of tiny punches, some twigs lodging themselves permanently. He could hear Ruby's voice in his head.

"Sorry, babe. He wasn't supposed to kill you. Better luck next time."

Sam fought to stay conscious. He counted the seconds, his ragged breaths, and the clouds he could still see in between the blood welling up in his eyes. Ghost hunger pangs hit the spots where the branches lay in his stomach, twisting his innards all to hell. The rest of his body would probably meet them there. But at least he knew Dean would live on. That was more important to him anyways.

"He pressed his luck." That was the last thing Sam heard before he blacked out in intense pain.

The sound of the Impala parking at the motel door woke Sam. He was disoriented, pale and sweating. The screen of his computer had gone dark since he had last changed screen savers and hadn't found one he liked. He gulped in the cold air of the air conditioned room in Defiance, Michigan as Dean walked through the door with dinner.

"I'm home, Sammie."

"Dean." His brother's voice caught in his throat.

"You look awful man. You didn't accidentally come across some porn or something, did you?" Sam let the joke pass over him. It was all he could do to not leap off the bed, sending the laptop scattering to floor, to embrace his brother in a wrenching bear hug. "Hello, earth to Sam! Dinner calling."

"I...uh...must have dozed off while you were gone."

"Obviously. I hope you're hungry, I got your favorite since we're leaving for Chicago in the morning. Say, I'm gonna steal the butter that waitress gave you...."

Dean yammered on while Sam just concentrated on his brother. Dean sat dinner on his bed, dividing the bag up. Then he had a thought. "Perhaps we shouldn't go to Chicago yet."

"What do you mean? I thought between Castiel and that e-mail you got from the Riofest clan that you were all eager to pull up stakes and head out. If you need more time..."

Sam shook his head, gratefully excepting the makeshift plate his brother handed over. "No, I'm healed after the church incident, but I wanna stall on Chicago."

"Okay, why?"

Sam wondered what was the best way to say that he had just watched his own death by his brother's hand as an angel. He was saved at the last moment by the bing of an instant message. "Because we've got a hit in Iowa about a town that's all spontaneously combusting after singing. Happened just like in Sunnydale with the laryngitis case a few years back." Sam was not above as lying as quick as he could. He was actually just being told his minesweeper game had timed out.

Dean was fooled and nodded. "Sounds find to me. Although if I break out into song, please just shoot me with Colt." Dean put his hand over his heart and looked toward the ceiling.

Sam's heart dropped in his chest, but he knew he needed to respond when he finished with his forkful of food. "I'm not sure I'll have to. I'm sure people in the town can still hear. But it's good to know."