A/N: Hello again, everybody! It's been a hot minute since I had a chapter fic for you here, but at last I've [mostly] finished another one ^_^

This is an AU set in season 6, because there was so much that needed fixing in that season. So some major differences: Sam has his soul, Cas is not working with Crowley but is still fighting Raphael, Sam and Dean are still in contact with him and are actually interested in what he's up against and how he's doing, and there's no Campbells.

I don't own any of the canon characters. Thanks so much to Aini NuFire for beta reading and pushing me to finish! ^_^ Also, I'll post every Tuesday.

No warnings for this other than some whump. Also two timelines going here, one to see what's currently happening and one to go back and see how they got into this mess, a little at a time ;) And we begin right smack in the action... So here we go!

:::NOW:::

"Dean, please," Sam exclaimed with a disheartened sigh. "I know this sucks. I don't like it either, believe me, but until we can fix this-"

"No!" Dean shouted, thrashing wildly with both hands cuffed together to fend him off. "Get away from me!"

Sam sighed again, casting a guilty look at the syringe he held. The Impala wasn't exactly roomy, which made it hard to maneuver close enough to his brother to get the sedative injected. It was bad enough he'd had to cuff Dean's hands to keep him from attacking, bad enough that the older Winchester had every right to be freaking out; Sam didn't want to hold his brother down and stab a needle in his neck on top of everything else.

"Dean, listen to me," he urged. "You've got to calm down, okay? Come on, bro, just-"

"You're not my brother!" Dean cut him off with venom in his voice. He lurched blindly for the passenger door, trying to unlock it and get out.

The door refused to open; Sam had already been forced to turn the safety locks on after Dean had tried to jump out while they were driving 60 miles an hour.

The vicious proclamation cut through to Sam's heart, making him swallow back the pain and remind himself once again that this wasn't his brother's fault.

"Dean-"

"Don't talk to me! Let me out of here, now!"

Dean whirled back towards Sam with a glare. Just looking at his eyes hurt almost worse than listening to his hate-filled voice. Dean's normally green irises were blood-shot and red-rimmed, sclera already starting to form a milky film, while the skin surrounding them was mottled and scarred. Though his fury—and fear—was pointed in Sam's direction, the gaze was sightless.

Rage mounted in Sam's heart that his brother had been hurt this way, but even worse that Dean was barely letting him close enough to try to help.

"Listen," he tried again, keeping calm. "I told you… you were cursed. The demon who blinded you… the one who kidnapped you and god knows what else, they used some kind of curse, remember? To make you forget about me, to keep us disjointed so we couldn't-"

"You're delusional!" Dean bellowed. It was clear his panic was mounting again, being handcuffed and unable to see, stuck in the car with an apparent stranger.

"I'm your brother," Sam sighed, starting to despair. It wasn't Dean's fault… it wasn't Dean's fault… Dean wasn't trying to be cruel, he just genuinely didn't know better at the moment.

"No, you're not! Let me go!"

He jerked at the bracelets around his wrists, straining with so much desperation that it made Sam ache. As soon as they found somewhere to rest, he would have to find something to cushion the restraints with, or else Dean would end up hurting himself; Sam didn't want to add that onto his list of things to feel terrible about. Bad enough he hadn't gotten to his brother in time to save him from all of this to begin with.

"Look, I had to cuff you," Sam couldn't help but apologize again. "You nearly ran us off the road trying to fight me. I'm sorry, and I really don't want to give you the sedative, but until we can find somewhere to lie low, I'm going to have to, okay? You're a danger to us both right now."

"I said get away from me!" Dean yelled, now trying to shift as far from Sam as he could.

Something about watching his brother shrink back from him, cowering into the door frame, almost broke Sam. He watched as Dean's ruined eyes flicked all around, obviously trying to keep himself oriented without being able to see. Sam held up the syringe, already loathing himself for needing to do this, but it would be kinder. Not to mention safer. Even blind, even restrained, Dean wasn't known as one of the best hunters around for nothing, and if he kept trying to attack Sam while they were driving, it could end up getting them both killed.

"If there was any other way, I'd do it," he murmured, lashing out to grab the links of the cuffs, pulling Dean closer and looping his arm through the chain to keep him in place. "This is just going to help you sleep, alright? That's all, I swear."

"No, don't! Please…"

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, pushing the needle into Dean's neck and depressing the plunger. The sedative injected, he pulled away and released his hold on the cuffs to give his brother some space.

"No-" Dean choked out, pressing a hand to his neck where Sam had stuck him. "No…"

"You're going to be okay, Dean," Sam assured him, watching sorrowfully as Dean again groped for the door handle and tugged it fruitlessly. "I promise. I'm gonna fix this."

"Don't you… fudging… touch me…"

With one last, quiet groan, Dean tipped over against the back of the seat, eyelids fluttering closed.

Sam bit his lip with regret. He reached out to check his brother's pulse, making sure the dose hadn't been too much; it was strong and steady, to his relief. Recapping the needle and sliding it safely into the cup holder, Sam sat back in the driver's seat and released a slow exhale.

They'd been down before, but this really took the cake. Worse, despite Sam's assurances, he had absolutely no idea how he was going to help his brother. If he hadn't killed the demon who'd taken Dean to begin with, perhaps he could have forced it to lift the curse, but he hadn't realized at the time just how much damage had been done.

Sam thought back to when Zachariah had made them forget they were brothers, turning them into civilians. That time, even though he and Dean "hadn't known each other", they'd still felt their bond, their connection, pulling them together. They'd still been okay.

Clearly, that wasn't happening here.

He could have even handled Dean simply not remembering him, but this was worse; Dean was scared of him. And Sam knew he was making it worse by restraining his brother, and now knocking him out with the sedative, but he didn't know what else to do.

They couldn't sit here forever, though. Sam's gaze flicked out the windshield, greeted by nothing but rolling hills and dirt of the California desert. Where was he supposed to go? How was he supposed to begin fixing what had been done to Dean? Bobby was unreachable, on some case in another country.

And Cas…

Sam closed his eyes, feeling the weight of hopelessness settling like a lead blanket. Not bad enough that the demon had managed to turn Dean against him.

It had turned Cas, as well.

Sam had gotten so used to the idea that Cas, while not invincible, was far too strong for a demon's curse to affect. If only he hadn't gotten their angel involved… At least then Sam would have a friend to call on now, instead of a supercharged angel who could and would kill Sam without blinking an eye, and probably Dean, too.

Thank goodness the warding should protect them from being found. Once Sam figured out how to fix Dean, he could use it to help Cas, as well. Until then… Sam was completely alone, with a brother and a best friend who thought he was an enemy.

After everything they had lost, after all they'd been through together, the thought of losing them now… Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. He couldn't afford to despair. None of them could, which meant he had to pull himself together. Sam turned back to look at Dean, still slumped against the seat, and shook his head.

"We'll figure this out," he murmured, though the reassurance was more for his own mind than his comatose brother. Sam reached out to clutch Dean's shoulder. He frowned, seeing a tear tracking down his brother's face where his eyes were trying to keep themselves moisturized. Gingerly, Sam dabbed it away with his sleeve. "Don't worry. I'm gonna get us off the grid, and I'm gonna take care of you."

:::THEN:::

Dean glowered out the window and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The rain pattered unceasingly against the glass—why had he even bothered washing Baby? Honestly, it never failed—and the cloudy landscape hovered before them with depressing unendingness.

"You'd think just once we could come to California and actually get some sun," he grumbled.

"Mm."

Dean glanced over at Sam. His brother's brow was creased in concentration, shuffling through crime scene photos and evidence reports from the file folder they'd put together.

"Good talk." Rolling his eyes, he turned his gaze out the windshield again.

"I'm listening. Sun. California. We've been here with good weather before, Dean."

"Yeah, but never just to chill, you know? Man, friggin' demons."

Sam tucked the papers back into the file and shifted in his seat, stretching out as much as the freakishly long-legged guy could. They'd been driving for almost eight hours now with only a couple of stops for gas. Both of them were getting short-tempered.

"We don't know that it is a demon for sure," Sam reminded him yet again, like Dean hadn't gotten the point after the fourth or fifth time.

"Right, right." Dean nodded, pretending to agree, then snorted. "It could be a human, no, you're right. Who just happens to know about, uh, what did they write on the wall at the last one? The rising of the witnesses?"

Sam sighed, but Dean pressed,

"Or, what about the murder before that? Something about Samhain coming to slaughter us all? Coincidence. Definitely. Tell me this doesn't have demon all over it."

"I'm not saying it's not a demon," Sam shot back testily. "I'm just saying we don't know for sure. We don't know how much lore is out there about-"

"About the 66 Seals, specifically the ones we saw, and lost, I might add? You know, those Seals specifically, out of six hundred they could have picked instead? The ones that released Lucifer until we could shove his ass back in the Cage?"

"Yeah, I get it!"

"Good!"

"God, Dean." Sam turned out the window again, sagging slightly in the passenger seat.

Dean felt a twinge of remorse; of all people, Sammy didn't need the reminder about releasing Lucifer. It was just the damn weather and the lack of sleep between cases putting Dean in a bad mood. Besides, starting arguments when they still had a couple hours stuck in the car together was just dumb. Relenting, he sighed.

"I'm just saying, we should go in prepared for demon," he grumbled. "And if it's something else, then hey, easier for us to gank their ass and get out. First round on me."

Sam was quiet for another second, but at least he didn't seem to be stewing. Clutching the folder, he took in a deep breath, then murmured, "What if… what if you're right and it is a demon, though. Dean, think about it. Those Rings we opened the Cage with, they might be gone, but there's nothing saying a demon can't break 66 more Seals, right? What if it's one of Lucifer's, trying to start over like Yellow Eyes did?"

"Then we'll stop him," Dean insisted. He glanced at Sam and shook his head. "It's not gonna happen, Sammy. Lucifer's in his Cage, and he's gonna stay there. Besides, the first Seal was supposed to be broken by the Righteous Man, and as far as I know, that's still me. Don't know about you, but I've been too busy chopping vamp heads to be doing much Seal-breaking. And, and Lilith is dead, huh? And she had to be the final Seal, so…"

With a shrug, Sam pointed out, "What if you're not the only righteous man who's ended up in Hell? You're the toughest guy I know, so if they broke you, they can break someone else. And as for Lilith…" He snorted. "Because no one in our lives has ever come back from the dead before."

"Well, aren't you a little raincloud."

"Maybe we should call Cas after all. You know, maybe he could tell us if it's even possible to use the Seals to bring Lucifer back."

Dean rubbed a hand along his jaw. Yeah, he'd already thought about calling on the angel. But… "Let's just wait until we know for sure there's something here," he suggested. "You know, when we saw him last week, he seemed to have his hands full with the Raphael thing."

"Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed, turning back to Dean at last. "I don't wanna bother him over some wannabe that we can take out ourselves. Man, how do you think it's going up there? I wish he'd let us help. I keep telling him…"

"So do I, but he's got a point. Not a lot we can do from here, and apparently going into Heaven would kill us, so that's out. Best we can offer is moral support and be ready to jump in if something does come up."

"At least we got him checking in more regularly. I hate it when he just disappears." Sam shook his head, then heaved a sigh. "I still haven't really gotten to thank him for getting me out of Hell."

Dean grinned, flashing a mischievous look Sam's direction as he suggested, "Well, when this all calms down, you can take him to a strip club. He seemed to really love that…"

"I cannot believe you took an angel to a strip club."

"I can't believe he struck out with a stripper!"

They laughed, the mood in the Impala starting to ease a little. Dean nodded towards the file folder in his brother's hands.

"Tell me about 'em again," he suggested. "Maybe we missed something the first time through."

Opening the file once again, Sam pulled out the reports and cleared his throat. "Right, uh… okay, so we have three murders, all bloody, vics stabbed over a dozen times. Tons of occult symbols, throats slit, the whole nine. But no eyes burned out, so it probably wasn't an angel. Messages written on the walls at all three crime scenes, in blood. Cops chalked it up as garden variety Satanists, but…"

"But all three referenced different Seals," Dean finished for him. "Alright. We'll hit up the precinct first, shake down the local badges and see if they have any leads, and go from there." He tried to grin at Sam again, though it fell a little flat. "It's gonna be fine, Sammy. Seriously."

The remaining two hours passed relatively quickly; even still, by the time they passed the sign designating Loyola, California's city limits, Dean was ready for a burger, a shower, and a nap. In that order. But duty called.

Dressed in their FBI threads, the two headed for the sheriff's office, only to be pointed back out in the direction of the fourth and latest crime scene; the body count was climbing, and they were dropping faster.

The grey sky was a dusky backdrop for the flashing blue and red that still lit the area. Yellow tape cordoned off the alley as various officers and investigators moved in and out with grim efficiency.

"Hi, 'scuse me," Dean said, stepping up to the tape and flashing his badge at the nearest officer. "Agent Grayson, this is Agent Todd-"

"Oh, thank god," the man grumbled as he straightened. "FBI, right?"

Dean shot a look at Sam, slipping the badge back away. He hoped that didn't mean the real FBI was expected… with Bobby off on a case somewhere in Bermuda or wherever, there was no one to work the phones for them if they had to play the "we were sent here first" card.

"Right," Sam replied smoothly. "Who's your lead in this?"

"Sheriff Keene. Towards the back." He turned and yelled, "Oy, Sheriff!"

A red-haired woman straightened up, frowning in their direction. The frown deepened as Dean ducked under the caution tape, leading the way to the sheriff. He held out a hand.

"Sheriff Keene? Agent Grayson," he greeted her. "My partner, Agent Todd."

"Agents," she replied, accepting the hand. "I don't remember calling you. No offense."

"None taken," Sam assured her. "Really just dumb luck that our boss caught wind of this at all. We had a federal investigation a couple years ago that went cold on us, but the MO fits. We're hoping if we can help you get this guy, we'll close both our cases."

"Uh-huh," the sheriff said simply, looking between the two. "Well, if this is the same MO, maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on. So far, we've got four vics with nothing in common, four crime scenes on complete opposite ends of the county. The only similarities are the causes of death and the… er… artwork."

"Yeah, that's all we ever had," Dean agreed, building up the story. "That's why it went cold. Couldn't find any links."

Sheriff Keene looked between the two again, then shrugged. "Well, feel free to poke around. God knows I won't turn down the extra set of eyes, not with four murders and no leads. I have to get back to the station, but I'll have Deputy Bryson show you around." She gestured towards the one who'd first greeted them, still standing at the front of the alley, and started to head that way.

Sam and Dean hurried after her, drawing to a stop as she muttered some instructions to the deputy and then continued on past the tape and disappeared into the crowd.

"Yes, ma'am. No, come on!" the deputy complained to some nearby gawkers as a couple of them craned their necks to try getting a glimpse of the scene. "Keep moving, let's go. Vultures," he added under his breath. "Sorry, agents, Sheriff said to give you whatever you needed."

"For now, we're just gonna take a look around," Dean assured him. "We'll want to check out the first three crime scenes as well."

"Sure," he replied. "They've been cleaned up, though."

"And of course, if anything else happens, you'll give us a call?" Sam pressed. "Here's our contact information." He held the card out to the deputy, who gave it a quick scan before sticking it in his pocket.

"Sure thing, agents," he agreed. "Oy! You there, I mean it, back up!" The deputy scowled at a man who'd brushed up too close to the caution tape in an effort to see what was going on. "I swear, these people. Look, you two can poke around wherever you need to. As soon as something comes up, I'll call you."

Dean gave him a nod, then gestured to Sam to follow him back away from the spectators. "What do you think?" he muttered.

Sam gave the alley another cursory look, gaze finally zeroing in on the wall where a team was still photographing the message that had been daubed on in blood: "And he bloodied death under the newborn sky."

Another Seal… killing the reapers.

Sam swallowed. "I think this feels personal."

"So… demon," Dean couldn't help but say with a snarky 'I told you so' look. He didn't get an answer beyond the tightening of Sam's jaw. Not that Dean was all that thrilled to be right; a demon leftover from Lucifer's fan club could only be bad news.

Surveying the scene again, Dean nodded. "Alright," he sighed. "We've got work to do."