First Level: Prepare the Brewing Ingredients

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Two years later,

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Sam woke up beside his ever sleeping brother. He rolled over onto his left and stared quietly for over half an hour at the still form beside him. Then, he slowly rose up on his left elbow to hover over his Dean's body, arm around his chest.

"Good morning, Dean."

He gave his brother a kiss on his right cheek and a chaste one on his lips and waited for a few moments whilst his eyes roamed over his big brother's delicate feature. When nothing happened he let out a resigned sigh and climbed out of bed. He supposed it did not work like in the stories. The princess awoken from a deep sleep by only a kiss. Why couldn't Dean? Granted, Dean was no princess but the spell had worked. Sam just didn't know where he'd gone wrong. He sealed it with a kiss; shouldn't he have been able to end it with one too?

Sam continued with his daily routine of morning run through the woods, showering, making coffee and breakfast. He went back into the room he shared with Dean to check on him. It was time to change the bed sheets and to give Dean his daily massage. It was not really necessary actually, but Sam loved doing it. The doctor had told him to treat Dean just like a sleeping person, but without awareness. It was odd to see him sleeping for this long without eating but then again there was magic at work here, ancient and very powerful magic, so he thought he shouldn't be surprised. After all, demons existed as well as angels.

"Alright, Dean, I'm gonna change the bed so I'll need you to move …" Sam lifted Dean's body on one side, rubbing his back for thirty seconds before pulling the sheet from under him. He stripped the rest of the bedding before taking it to the kitchen to put the wash on. He returned with fresh linen and made the bed, turning Dean's body onto his other side. He flopped on the bed beside Dean's back and laid his head on his brother's temple, curling his arm around Dean's waist.

"So, what d'you wanna do today?" asked Sam conversationally. "I already put the laundry in the washing machine, so we could either make some pancakes with syrup or just have scrambled eggs and sausages. Bobby sent provisions the other day, enough to feed an army for a week, or just you for a couple of days. Seriously, dude you need to watch your weight or you'll get flabby with lying around all day like this." Sam poked Dean's stomach, still as hard and flat as usual.

"Hey, d'you wanna take a bath? Are you smelly?" Sam sniffed Dean's neck and armpits. "Naah, you're okay. How many days ago did you shave, anyway?" asked Sam as he rubbed Dean's cheek with the back of his hand. Then he counted his fingers in front of Dean's face, telling his brother what he wanted to do today. "Let's start with changing your clothes first, then sponge bath, you love that, don't you?" he chuckled briefly. "Then, I'll see what I can do for breakfast today. No complaining! You can cook it yourself if you don't like what I make. I'll be right back." He planted a kiss on Dean's temple before jumping off the bed, and sauntering back to the kitchen to check on the washing machine.

Sam did this every day, making casual conversation with his brother as if he was awake and could reply him. He figured he needed to do this if only for the sake of his own sanity. Living in seclusion with only a passive person as company could drive a man crazy. It's been two years, but Dean's condition hadn't changed. Sam had almost lost hope. The only thing that had prevented him from going off the deep end was the ever present pull of his soul which steadily increased in its intensity every day. It was subtle at first, nothing but a tingle in his chest but it intensified the more Sam touched his brother until he could not ignore it any longer. It had become an unscratched itch, a tug that Sam felt deep in his own soul. Several times in the last six months he'd woken up feeling horny and had unconsciously rubbing himself on Dean.

The first time it had happened he had been mortified and had rolled off the bed hitting the floor hard in his haste to get away from Dean. But when it happened again the next day and next and the next, Sam had no choice but to give in. Usually, he'd just go to the bathroom whenever the urge came on but it was only ever Dean's image and smell that he thought about.

Theoretically, Sam knew it was the curse; that his soul was calling out to Dean's soul. It was basically how he knew that the curse had worked at all, and that he had succeeded in saving Dean from hellfire. But he was also ashamed about the affect it was having on him; increasing his sexual craving for his brother. Even thinking about it made him want to hide in the deepest hole in the ground. Perhaps it was him who should be in hell instead of Dean.

Sam spent the rest of the day in his living room turned office researching. Usually he would stop at noon for a while to make a meager lunch or forgo it completely to continue researching, occasionally checking up on Dean until the night rolled around and he was half only awake over his work table. When he could no longer stay awake he shuffled down to the bedroom and fell asleep curled up beside Dean. He could not help but entertain the thought that someday Dean would wake up because of his kisses. So he planted a kiss on Dean's lips every night before going to sleep and every morning when he woke up, wishing that his brother would wake up and call him a girl for it. So far it hadn't happened but it was not for lack of trying.

Tonight, instead of going straight to dreamland, Sam stayed awake. He lay down beside Dean with both hands behind his head and eyes staring up to the grey ceiling. He had started the research on this spell after their second meeting with the Trickster. He was desperate back then, at the end of his rope and would grab at anything, anything at all that gave even a hint of how to save his brother. Sam remembered the trickster's exact words after he'd played Sam for a fool for over six months. After all his energy had burned out and desperation was the only emotion left, Sam could still remember it clearly.

Abandoned warehouse, two and half years ago,

"You think you can save your brother? Save his soul from damnation?" asked the Trickster. "Do you even know what a soul is Sam?"

Sam said nothing. What could he possibly say to the Trickster, anyway? He just wanted his brother back, damn it! He would plead, beg and grovel if it brought him Dean back. He would sell his own soul if needs be because Dean was not the only one who could sell his soul. Dean did not get to be self-sacrificing while Sam lived alone and miserable in this unforgiving world.

"Perhaps you should read up on it, and see what you are dealing with here."

He had latched onto The Trickster's words so tightly, questioning the truthfulness of the advice that there was no way back from damnation. What did Sam know about the soul? Nothing. Besides the generic knowledge that Pastor Jim had drilled into them when they were young, he knew nothing. He knew that their souls only had a choice of two destinations when they died, either up to heaven or down to hell, but nothing of its entity, of its purpose, or its essence that made us human.

For the first time in months, Sam had found a new direction for his research. Instead of finding a way to break Dean's deal he studied souls. As he luxuriated in the return of his brother, Sam threw himself wholeheartedly into his study. If he could have, Sam would have spent the whole week after their last meeting with the Trickster hugging Dean in his arms. Sadly Dean had never been the touchy feely type. Sam took his fill by looking at him instead. He hovered and fussed and never let Dean out of his sight for longer than a few seconds. Of course, it freaked Dean the fuck out but even Dean couldn't win when Sam bombarded him with his lethal puppy dog eyes and soulful expression.

After the incident of Lilith's jail demolition in her hissy fit, Sam had left his brother moping alone in their motel room. Dean had paid him no mind. Sam even suspected that Dean had been kind of relieved that finally Sam had stopped hovering around him like a lost puppy. Sam rolled his eyes at the thought. If only Dean knew the state he'd been in during the six months that he'd been gone under the Trickster's spell. But Dean did not know that. Dean hadn't even lasted a day before he'd crawled off to a crossroads demon to bring Sam back to life. As hard as living without each other was, Dean had never lived without Sam in the same way he'd spent those six miserable months without Dean. Even when Sam was in Stanford, Dean was only a phone call away, not dead.

Sam's study had brought him to binding rituals but the information was vague at best and the book where he'd found the ritual did not go into the details. It just stated that the binding ritual was very dangerous and should only be attempted as a last resort. It involved marking a soul and the few beings that could do that were either high class demons or angels. Sam knew about demons and he suspected that the Crossroads Demon had put a mark on Dean's soul to validate the contract. It was high level stuff and perhaps only demons with the strongest powers could manage it which made him doubt that Ruby could. She was feisty and resourceful, he'd give her that, but in the matter of power Sam was sure that Ruby was just an average demon. The more he delved into this matter, the more he doubted that Ruby could help him. This brought on suspicions about her intentions of working with them. Was Ruby just leading them on by feeding them lies and eating up Sam's desperation? Sam shoved that thought onto the back burner for the time being because he had more important things to think about.

So, demons was definitely a big 'No'. Which only left angels. Now, Sam had never met an angel before. He had also never heard of anyone who had ever met one. He did not know what an angel looked like let alone how to summon one. Well, Sam thought the situation was close to the last resort right now. He was willing to take the risk as long as he could save Dean and this binding ritual looked like the only one that could help him.

From one of his father's contacts in his journal, Sam had got the address for an old antique book shop in the middle of New York. He had begged Dean to drive him there. His brother had rolled his eyes and made a comment about Sam's geekiness but he had taken him there in the end. For a whole week, Sam had spent all his waking hours confined inside the almost dilapidated building much to Dean's exasperation. His brother had bitched and moaned at him about how bored he was. Sam had just snorted and told him to go to a bar or a striptease club or something. He was very close to finding the ritual.

One of the old, dusty books had mentioned, as if in passing, a ritual for summoning Cupid. The Romans called him Cupid, god of desire, affection and erotic love, but it had always been suspected that he was one of a kind of lesser angels. It worth a try, Sam had thought. The page had also contained a spell that the book claimed to be out of date and from a highly suspicious resource but it was something. The language was partly Latin and partly Greek and a few runes had also been drawn on the page. Sam was familiar with Latin and from his translation he could not find anything dangerous in the spell. Only a warning that the cupid could not be forced to do something that it did not want to do and should be allowed to come and go as it pleased because they were generally thought to be naive creatures, subject to mood swings.

A young, blond, naked girl who seemed only about fourteen years old had appeared in front of Sam ten seconds after he'd finished the spell. She'd immediately jumped up at Sam latching on to him tightly with her arms and legs. To say that Sam had been horrified was the understatement of the year. He had started to think he'd chanted the wrong spell but then she'd let go of him and introduced herself as a cherub.

"You're a what?"

"A cherub!" answered the cute naked girl merrily, unabashed at her nakedness. Her face then contorted in a confuse frown. "Didn't you know? You sent for me, remember?"

"You're … a lesser angel?" questioned Sam; still not buying that the whole cherub thing was real.

"Yes! Some called us cupids but you can call me whatever." Again she had answered with an excited jump before playing with her hair and dancing around the abandoned warehouse where Sam had performed his ritual, without a care in the world.

Sam had eyed her with distrust. He'd begun to think that he had summoned a loon instead of an angel. Forget about her nakedness, he'd thought, her demeanor was worrying enough. He'd started to think that she was not right in the head.

"So, … er … you can tell me about souls?" Sam had called out to her and she'd immediately stopped dancing and ran back to him. Sam had taken a couple steps back afraid of another hugging but she'd stood right in front of him instead with an eager expression on her face.

"Oh, no one ever summoned me before. I'm still young, you know. I'm not allowed to do any binding. I can only watch the older and more experienced cherubs do their jobs but I do know about souls. Yes, it's the first thing that we cherubs must learn because to bind people you have to understand about their souls. It would not do to bind an unmatched pair. We only aim for happily ever after. At least that's what they told me, anyway. I know some older cherubs carry special orders from heaven not that I know what they are, mind you, but-"

"I think that's enough," Sam had said, interrupting her mid sentence. This cherub talked at a mile a minute without taking a breath and it gave Sam a headache just listening to her.

Sam had taken a deep breath as the cherub waited patiently for him, in silence, thankfully.

"So, you know about souls." Sam had lifted his palm up to stop her from blabbering again before continuing, "I need you to tell me about mine and my brother's souls."

The cherub's features had become very bright after hearing Sam's demand. "Oh! So, you wanna know about your soul mate?" asked the cherub excitedly, blue eyes widening. Sam could only answer with a nod. "Wonderful! If only all people are like you, you know. They spend years and decades to find the right one but never ever ask us who it is. Not that they'd actually know how to summon us, you know that right? Imagine the chaos if all of them summoned us at the same time," she'd shivered in dread. "That's why we hid the spell very carefully but some humans are just too smart and resourceful. Just like you!" exclaimed the cherub, and a sudden bright smile had bloomed on her small, pink lips. "And we're actually not allowed to actively help humans but sometimes it hurts to see them suffering with in an unmatched pairing. Our orders are clear; never to be seen and nudge them as little as possible. They say humans must experience the ups and downs of romance and learn from their mistakes and…"

"Just stop! Please…" Sam had shouted at her.

The cherub's eyes had grown wider, if that was even possible. She'd looked at Sam in shock for several seconds before her bottom lip had started to tremble.

"Oh, no, no no… please don't cry!"

Her blue eyes had become watery and she'd already blinked them several times, the corners of her mouth had turned down.

"I'm sorry! Please, please don't cry," Sam had pleaded in panic. "I didn't mean to shout at you … please…"

"Why are you mean to me?" muttered the cherub in a small scared voice. She'd twirled her fingers around her curly blond hair, eyes downcast. "I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to worry about looking for your soul mate."

"I'm sorry," he'd said in a subdued tone but something about what the cherub said had tickled his curiosity. "Wait a minute… You said I don't have to worry about finding a soul mate? … Is it …because I don't have one?"

"No, you silly!" she'd exclaimed as she'd smiled at Sam, her previous trepidation gone. Cherubs did have mood swing, Sam mused. "You've already met yours and forged a bond."

Sam's eyebrows could not have risen any higher. He had forged a bond with his soul mate? Who was the poor girl, he'd wondered. "Uh… was it … was it Jessica?"

The cherub had frowned. "Who's Jessica?"

"Jessica Moore, my girlfriend. Uh… was my girlfriend."

"Oh! She died?" the cherub had gasped loudly, blue eyes went round and sad. After Sam confirmed, she'd shaken her head sadly. "No. If she died then she's not your soul mate because your bond is still intact. Once your soul mate dies you won't be able to forge a bond with anyone else." Then, she'd continued. "Humans sometimes get it wrong. There's no such thing as a match made in heaven unless we angels make it. In fact we're the only one who can forge a permanent bond between humans. You may form a bond with another human and they'll become your soul mate but when one of you dies the bond will be shattered. Human's bond only last on earth. The marriage vow? 'Till death do us part'? It's true. Only the vow that humans are using nowadays doesn't hold any power other than just symbolic," explained the cherub with a serious nod.

Sam had stared at her in confusion. "Then who…"

"He's here. The only person that you've never parted with ever since you were kids."

"Dean?" Sam's mind had quickly jumped to the only logical answer and, really, he did not need an educated guess for that. Oh, he'd been aware of the parting when he'd left for Standford for four years but he'd left that fact out of consideration. "But… we're brothers. Are you sure you're not making a mistake?"

The cherub had looked pissed. She'd glared at Sam with her hands on her hips. "I don't make mistakes! I can clearly see his mark on your soul. I bet he has your mark as well."

Sam had stood frozen with his mouth agape in front of her, stunned and bewildered but there had been no mistaking the spark of hope that had flared deep in his heart. If he and Dean had already marked each other then, the binding ritual might work. Yes, perhaps there was a way for Sam to save Dean.

"Could you … take a look at Dean's soul? Please?"

"Why? I already told you-"

"Please!" Sam had urged but the cherub had just looked at him dispassionately. Sam had taken a deep breath before explaining, "it's just that … my brother, he's only got few months left to live and I'm at a loss as to what to do to save him."

"Is he dying?" the cherub had asked looking up at Sam curiously.

"No,… er… well, kinda." The cherub had tilted her head, looking confused. Sam had tried to find the words to explain Dean's predicament but in the end he'd opted for being blunt. "Well, … he's going to hell in a few months." There, he'd said it. "And I need to save his soul. So, could you please tell me how to do that?"

The cherub had looked at Sam quietly for few seconds before saying in a solemn voice, "Your brother had done a really bad thing, hasn't he?"

Sam had felt sad, guilty and embarrassed all at the same time because he knew the reason Dean had sold his soul was because he had died. He'd also felt anger at his brother for selling himself short like that but the anger had soon been replaced by profound guilt. He, of all people, should have known that Dean had devoted most of his life to taking care of him. It had been a natural reaction for Dean to do that, selling his soul to bring him back. Dean had never known how to care for himself. He only knew how to care for Sam. So, that day after they'd closed the Devil's gate, when they'd talked by the Impala, Sam had vowed to be the one to care for Dean from now on. After all, it was only fair.

"If his soul is destined for hell then there's nothing more I can do. I'm just a matchmaker. I read souls. Where they go when they die is not my business and I don't think there's anything to do to break a binding contract like that. And I'm sure your bond will break when he goes to hell. Only an angel forged bond could survive that."

"Just … would you please … take a look at Dean's soul? Just tell me what you see… what markings are there… Please…" Sam had begged her in his most sincere voice hoping against hope that the cherub would help him.

The cherub had whined in a high pitch tone before stomping her feet. "Why did I answer your summoning?! I hate sincere pleading!" She'd muttered a few more words under her breath that sounded like gibberish to Sam before she'd disappeared in a blink of an eye making him jump in surprise Five seconds after her departure, as he had looked around the empty and silent warehouse, she'd popped back up behind Sam startling him.

"Wh… y… you're back…"

"There are two markings on your brother's soul; yours and the demons," reported the cherub. Then her face had crumpled and tears had run down her cheeks.

"What, what is it?!" Sam had asked in alarm.

"It's just so sad. Mortal bonds are very, very rare and so extraordinarily beautiful that we aren't even allowed to tamper with them but …" her cries got louder. Her tiny fists had rubbed her wet eyes as fat tears had continued falling. "It's so sad that the demon's mark has ruined it all."

Sam had shuffled his feet awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to do to comfort the upset cherub. Not to mention that her woes reminded him of his own pain. So, Sam had had to ask. "Could you please … forge a bond between us? You know, making it permanent so that it won't break when he goes to hell."

"Why would you want that? We're always very careful when binding human's soul and then only by the order of heaven because people can go crazy. Even if I can, I won't do it."

Before Sam had had a chance open his mouth to explain, the cherub had disappeared just as abruptly as she'd come. Sam had waited for almost a minute in that abandoned warehouse before deciding that the cherub must have been too upset to come back. So, he'd packed his bag, cleaned any trace of the ritual from the ground and then driven back to the motel where he 'd left Dean sleeping off his hangover from his previous night's excursion to a strip club.

Things had been clearer for Sam after his meeting with the cherub that night. It had renewed and refreshed his purpose. He had been even more determined to find a way to save Dean's soul from hell after finding out about the mark on both their souls. Even ignoring the soul mate thing, just the fact that he and Dean had marked each other's souls had been enlightening and overwhelming at the same time. Sam would certainly rather consider this a blessing than anything else, especially, when he'd need it to save said his big brother from the fiery pit of hell.

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