"Five years," Dean said. "Five years and my bill comes due."

The woman with red eyes stared at him from a few feet away. This particular crossroad was virtually abandoned. No cars or buildings in sight for miles.

"You could offer me your soul now, and the answer would still be no," the demon said. "We don't want you, Dean. Sammy was our golden boy."

"So bring him back... make the deal."

"Don't you think if we wanted him that badly we would bring him back without a deal? We don't need him. He was our first choice, I admit, but he was weak. He lost."

"Fine. I'll find another demon."

"No demon will deal. John was a catch. Sam was the one we really wanted... You? You're useless and pathetic. But, have fun trying."

The demon vanished before Dean's eyes. For three days, Dean tried every crossroad he could find. No demon would deal with him, but one let it slip why they didn't care that Sam was dead. They had a man named Jake. He had special abilities, like Sam had. Jake was the one who killed Sam by stabbing him in the back and slicing through his spinal cord.

Dean finally found the strength to bury his brother. He refused to burn him. He was determined to get Sam back. If the demons wouldn't deal, he'd change his plan.

Kill Jake.

"I promise, Sammy," he said as he shoveled dirt back into the grave, covering the wooden box inside. "I'll get that son-of-a-bitch."

In one year, Dean lost his dad and his brother. His family was gone. Taken by the yellow-eyed demon, in one way or another. The same demon responsible for his mom's death. All Dean could think about was revenge. First on Jake, for killing Sam, then on yellow-eyes, for everything bad in his life.

Bobby was there when Sam died. He ran after Jake, but couldn't catch him. Dean pushed him away. Bobby wanted to bury Sam and move on, but Dean couldn't do that.

Bobby went home, initially just trying to give Dean some space and time to grieve. Dean ignored several phone calls from him days later. When Dean finally listened to the voicemails, it was too late. Bobby and Ellen had information about the yellow-eyed demon's plan. He was opening a Hell gate to let out an army of demons. Jake would be there.

Dean missed it.

Bobby, Ellen, and Jo... the closest thing to family he had left... all gone. They had tried to stop it and failed.

Dean was alone. The one thing he had always feared most in his life. Completely alone.

For the first few weeks, he drove. His eyes constantly glanced at the empty passenger seat where his brother once sat, navigating and driving him nuts. He crossed the country several times, summoning and trapping demons, looking for Jake. The demons were less than forthcoming.

Except for one. Ruby.

Caught in Dean's devil's trap, she spit out everything she knew, hoping to get out without being sent back to Hell.

"I can help you," she said.

"The only help I want from you is Jake's location."

"I can give you so much more than that."

"Why would you."

"You don't get it. I want to help you. I'm not like them. I clawed my way out of Hell. I don't want to do it again."

"Oh, you're not like them?"

"No."

"Prove it."

Ruby paused for a moment. "My jeans... back waist band."

Dean held up the knife he had found there. "You mean this?"

"Yes."

"It's a knife. So?"

"So, that knife can kill demons."

"Yeah, right."

"Check out the inscriptions. It's true."

"Okay... let's say I believe you about the knife. Where's Jake?"

"Detroit. Azazel has him laying low in Detroit."

"Azazel?"

"Yellow-eyes. He does have a name."

Dean stared at her. His gaze eventually fell to the knife in his hand, examining the blade.

"Why Detroit?"

"It's temporary," she said. "They're waiting for something."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

"I've told you what I know."

"Everything?" Dean walked closer to her.

"Everything I know."

"Then there's one more thing you can help me with."

"What's that?"

Dean rammed the knife into Ruby's gut. She gasped, and her body spasmed as an orange light flickered from inside of her. When Dean pulled the knife out, she fell to the ground.

"Now I believe you," he whispered.

Dean made his way to Detroit. If Jake was laying low there, he would be blending in. He was also likely protected by demons, also blending in. Dean would have to do the same. They would expect him to check into a motel. They would expect him to burst into Detroit, guns blazing, looking for Jake. He would have to hang back. He found a small apartment building just outside of the city. Just three apartments. Dean liked that. There would be fewer people to deal with.

He had one more problem. His car. It was too obvious. The demons knew his black 1967 Chevy Impala. He drove back to Bobby's and found a car that still worked. A fixer-upper, but drivable. He got his weapons cache transferred from the Impala to his new white 1973 Mustang, and drove back to Detroit.

He stayed in his apartment the next few days, setting it up with protective symbols, just in case he was discovered. And he drank. A lot.

The apartment was no more than a large room. A small kitchen area in one corner, and a bathroom in another. A couple of small closets provided some storage. Dean brought a cot over from Bobby's, along with a small table and a chair. He wasn't concerned too much with comfort any more. He had what he needed.

When his apartment was done, he worked on the Mustang. He spent two days giving it a complete overhaul. On day two, as he tilted his head back to drain what was left of his beer, he saw a face peering down at him from a window in one of the other apartments. The one next to his. The face belonged to a woman. Brunette. She smiled down at him when they made eye contact. Dean looked away and put his attention back on his car.

He started cleaning up as the sun set. A quick glance back up to the window and he saw that the girl was gone. He briefly wondered how long she stood there watching him, but the thought didn't linger. He had more important things to think about. He still had to find an abandoned building to hold his demon interrogations. That wouldn't be too hard in Detroit, but location would matter. It couldn't be too close to his apartment.

Back inside, he walked past the mail boxes and the one apartment on the first floor, and headed for the stairs. As he went up, he looked through the railing to his left. His neighbor's door. He hoped she would mind her own business and let him keep to himself. That was all he wanted. That, and revenge.