Next morning, after quite a lot effort Dean found his phone in Sam's room, on the cold neatly made-up bed sheet; along with a tiny box, carefully packed with what seemed like a hemp thread. Dean already had his nightmarish doubts and therefore he dared not to look into it without stretching dangerously to his breaking point, He was afraid that cracking the wall of composure and "do your job" thing would cripple him to handle the problem in hand, which was finding his brother and taking him back home, hell even imprisoning him in their dungeon. The wall was the sole surface on which Dean could not see the reflection of Sam, lying unconscious, Dead. Instead, He merely grabbed his phone and almost immediately noticed the message on the lock-screen. A simple, nonchalant apology, as if it didn't precisely summarized the depth of shit they were in. There was more, pretty much everything that could stop Dean's heart for a moment and thereafter, How could he command his organ to focus on its freaking job, to not panic or thrash violently in his chest; calling for his baby brother, who was most probably not even alive at the moment. He had 54 missed calls from Rowena, starting at 3 am and ending just an hour ago.

Dean didn't hesitate for a mere second to reach out for Castiel. It wasn't good at all and more than any time his life he could feel the need for having a powerful entity by his side. Even if he's already late, Cass could bring Sam back. He'd offer the full capacity of his soul as a power source if it was what it took to revive Sam; No, He's not dead. You don't know anything just now. You'd stick to the rescue mission and nothing else mattered. Dean tried to calm himself. Unluckily enough, Cass was MIA, again. So next on the list, he called Rowena. She picked up immediately, but didn't answer.

-Rowena, tell me where he is.

He couldn't help wavering of his words in the cool air of the bunker, which sure as hell was not due to the breeze. Rowena stayed silent for a minute or two, before giving him the address. Dean's gut twisted at the anguished voice of the witch pleading: Hurry.

He didn't remember much of the way to the rusty store. In days that followed, he couldn't remember himself sprinting out of the impala, not even noticing that he had left the doors open. He just remembered the heavy door of the garage screeching as he pulled the lever near it, he remembered the light shining through on strips, scattering the dust pecks all over dean's face, he remembered hearing a violent cough, he saw shiny streaks of purple glaze hung in the air and he remember his world ending as he spotted a figure at the middle of the room, slumped on a wooden pole, as if it was a cross, his hands were stretched sideways, his knees folded on the rough ground and God, he was completely limp in his bonds, his head was swayed forward, revealing only the stack of hair wet from sweat –and was it blood encrusting all over his little brother's body?-. Was he even breathing?

Nonononono-

Dean rushed forward and kneeled in front of Sam, he dared to cup the kid's cheeks and feeling for one of his carotids in the process. God please, Dean couldn't hold back the tears and so his clouded vision didn't allow him to note the tiny fluttering of Sam's eyes, as if he was in deep sleep and God, at that moment Dean found a pulse, weak, barely there. But it was a damn big relief and Dean buried Sam's head in his own chest, holding on to his little brother's messy –as ever- hair with one hand the back of his blue flannel with the other, as he was relishing the moment of utter comfort that he wasn't late. It took him a moment to realize that Sam was still in shackles and from the position he could guess that he was hurting as hell; scrunched eyebrows were just another proof of that.

- Okay, okay, you're a selfish stupid son of a bitch, you know that? Ha?

Dean tried to coax him to answer, but aside from the pulse Sam was dead to the world. Dean was just blabbering funny comments to calm himself.

- all right, I'm gonna undo these, and I'm gonna take you to a hospital, okay?

Apparently Sam was indifferent to whatever dean was mouthing. However, he stood up to work on the shackles and cursed under his breath, they were bound by a spell.

-Rowena

He yelled and turned his attention to Sam, who moaned softly.

- I got you, I got you. I'm letting you loose. Just hang on.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder with shaky fingers, drawing what should be small circles of comfort and assurance that he was there for him, like he always is. That was when Rowena came into view; She must have hidden in the shadows at the back of the store, waiting to be called and from the look of it, she was not doing very well. Her hair was sprawled loosely around her shoulders and she was wearing a simple T-shirt and pants, not like ever with fancy gowns and skirts. Bloodshot eyes, trailed mascara on her cheeks and a grim look was

all Dean needed to lose the last brick of the wall, and with that, it all crumbled on him.

-W..what's going on?

She then spoke with a tone that wasn't even hers, It was grim and grieving and barely audible.

- You're late.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

The involuntary answer which was second nature to dean was to protest giving up on Sam with every fiber he had.

- No.

Rowena's look was on the ground.

- I called you for God knows how many times, where on the bloody earth were you?

Dean dismissed the question. He was not going to tell her that he was soundly asleep while his brother was being crucified.

- What do you mean late? Release him from the shackles, now.

- I'm afraid I can't.

If there was any time else, dean would shot the witch in between the eyes, but not now, not with Sam's life on the line. And of course, if there was any time else, Rowena would be taunting and bargaining for a deadly object she wanted to have in possession just for the kicks; it was definitely none of those times, Rowena sounded deeply upset, she was just stating the truth. No! it wasn't the truth, It couldn't be. Sam was going to make it, he was, his heart was still beating and he was able to as much as moan, which meant that he also could breathe. She was lying, it was never too late, not for the Winchesters. Dean shook his head violently in denial.

- It's not late. I say it's not. Now CUT HIM LOOSE OR SO HELP ME.

Sam chose the exact moment to start to stir. Dean rushed towards him, scratching his kneecaps on the stones.

- hey hey hey, I've got you, just hold on for me.

It wasn't a stir, it wasn't Sam's attempt to regain consciousness. Dean realized that when he felt his hands damp at each side of Sam's head. Nonono, shit, dean receded his hands and looked at the slick dark red liquid trickling form it freely. Son of a bitch. Sam's nose also was already bleeding and he seemed to be choked in his own blood filling his throat. Dean

screamed at Rowena.

- What's this?… Tell me!

Rowena started to explain:

- This specific spell allows two powerful entity to inhabit at the same place; it would keep them distracted [now Sam was shivering violently, the white of his eyes were visible from between half-closed eyelids, Dean gripped his collar] from each other's presence and the fact that they are bound to a single human vessel. I… I even created a scenery just like this one to fool them further…

Dean caressed Sam's head nervously, keeping it close to his chest and welcoming the pouring blood which stained dean's jacket readily.

- But?

Rowena's voice was timid, and scared.

- They found out… and now… they… they're torturing him.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of freezing water on Dean. Rowena could as well stab him right in the chest and it wouldn't hurt that much than knowing that after all Sam's been through, after ALL THAT DEAN HAD IMPOSED ON HIS BABY BROTHER, it all came down to this, again. To dick angels torturing him, to Lucifer tormenting his kid. Sam was whimpering under his breath as dean rocked him against his own chest, talking soothing words in his bloodied ears, reassuring him that he would never leave his side.

It felt like forever but it lasted only 10 minutes until Sam went lax in dean's arms. His convulsions stopped and the bleeding which dean had tried in a futile attempt to cauterize with the warmness of his touch halted all of a sudden. He couldn't think about priorities here. About that he should have forced Rowena to somehow stop all this, but judging from the agonized look in her face, there was not a single thing that she could and wouldn't do to help. Dean was never really team Rowena, but Sam somehow trusted her along the way and damn Dean if he wanted to criticize his brother for where his faith lied; not after Jack. Not after mom.

When Dean could finally let go of Sam's flannel and wipe his tears with his forearm –which mudded his face in Sam's blood, he turned to Rowena:

- I'm so gonna kill you.

He bumped towards her but Rowena held up a hand and as she was virtually crying –who thought that she actually had a heart- stopped dean in his pace. She tried to defend herself.

- There's the man, whom you know would be the one to kill you. He asks for assistance,

otherwise he'd kill you just like the prophecy says. What would YOU do?

Dean grimaced at her. Has she lost her mind?

- He wouldn't kill you. You well know that.

- He came at me with a revolver full of witch killing bullets, should I have tested my theory?

It was sarcastic, but she continued to sob. Dean frowned at the fact. When has she became as such fond of Sam? She was a witch, for all Dean knew she should have been celebrating her killer's demise, preferably as brutal as it was. What was wrong with her?

- Why're you crying?

She didn't answer. Sam's eyes opened in a sliver and he coughed feebly. Dean, startled at the sound was at his side in a blink of an eye.

- Sammy?

- Dea…

It was hard to hear him. Dean once again took Sam's head in his hands and lowered down and crouched till he was face to face with him.

- Hey, hey… look at me.

Sam's eyes were glassy and unfocused. Blood specks were still dripping from his chin, he might as well have bitten his tongue in his episode of seizure.

- 'm sry.

- No no no [Dean's voice was suddenly too loud for Sam's light head, so he flinched] Don't you dare, you've got nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Not one.

Sam smiled timidly at that, then he once again started to drift off. It was when it all dawned to him.

- you're seeing what they're doing, right? That's why you're scared, that's why you cry.

Rowena nodded as another tear found its way all the way down her cheek. Dean's voice was trembling.

- H..How bad?

She hesitated as if recalling something, something so important that abruptly made her face a lot brighter than it was. Dean took the glimpse and almost let himself hope that Rowena had found a way to reverse it all, a spell that would save his little brother any more hurt and damage. He parted his lips and held his breath for a slightest of clues, his heart beating in his chest wildly, clawing at his throat, making every breath he wasn't taking like swallowing lava. Then Rowena's face became gruff one more time, strangling the last bit of hope Dean had in him.

- You're… you were Michael's vessel. We discussed it in length that Sam didn't want you

involved with this [Dean chuckled bitterly and glanced at his brother's limp from hung from the chains] which meant we should have waited for the spell to finish its course, which meant hours of suffering in hands of the most powerful archangels, but…

Rowena already took a step back, evidently frightened of Dean's reaction.

- You're the only person in this bloody world who can kill them right away.

Dean interjected:

- Awesome, but how?

Rowena's eyes were on the floor when she brought herself up to answer.

- You have to kill him.