a/n: Thanks everyone for the great reviews and votes of confidence by putting this on story alert. I'm quite encouraged by the response since I don't write much for this fandom.

Beware, you're going to both love me and hate me for this one. It's very intense. Long too.

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Ruby approached the ICU room, but stopped short of entering, looking in to see if it was safe. Dean wasn't there, and her heart fell when she saw Sam, who wasn't recognizable to her. Still, she knew from her demon instincts it was him behind that empty shell. She felt a torment behind that soul.

"Mrs. Phelps?" The nurse said behind her. "I'm glad you're here. Your brother-in-law tore out of here an hour ago and no one is sure where he went. Sam is declining fast, and a loved one should be here just in case…uh, it would be a shame if that happened when he was alone."

"Um," Ruby said, not exactly planning on sticking around. She needed to find Dean. Something though about the nurse's hopeful glance and Sam's sorry state changed her mind. He shouldn't be alone. "Yep, I'll be right over here." She walked into the room and took a seat next to Sam, waiting until the approving nurse left to roll her eyes.

Ruby took in a deep breath, not sure to say. Her hand moved toward Sam's, with the intention of offering some comfort, but she pulled it away. It wouldn't make Sam feel any better. Her touches always made him uncomfortable.

"You know you're screwed. I've checked into everything I know and there just isn't a way out of this." Being tough came from her nature, but she wondered if she was using it as a shield here. It didn't help because Sam's sorry state just furthered her agony. She actually enjoyed their time together. He made her feel, human. He was doing that to her now, although these feelings she didn't like.

"I can't imagine what you're going through, but I know you're out there somewhere. I was there you know, in Hell when undelivered souls arrived. Many of them were terrified and they got it worse than those of us that were instantly condemned. It was like they were bastards or something."

Ruby frowned, hoping that Sam's judgment wouldn't be like that, but knowing how he lived his life, she expected the worst. "I can't save you from this one Sam. You're on your own."

She had no clue what to do next. "So am I," she said sadly. She leaned back and settled in, deciding it would be best to shut her mouth for now.

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Jess stood only a few feet away, glowing in her bright white dress. Sam's visions of her in that dress before were haunting, now it was holy. Her sweet smile sent a wave of comfort through him, a feeling so lost on him he couldn't remember the last time he felt that way. For the first time in a while, he experienced hope.

Jess sauntered over to a shaken Sam. Her angelic face turned to worry as she gazed deep into his weary eyes. She raised her hand to his head and stroked his shaggy hair, sending more shivers of serenity through him. "Oh Sam, the last three years haven't been kind, have they?"

Sam's eyes cast downward, for the scrutiny made him uncomfortable. "How have you been Jess?"

"Look where I am. I'm good."

Sam checked out the hazy and lush garden surrounding them. "It's beautiful. I don't get it though, why am I here?"

"You don't think you deserve Heaven?"

Any inner calm inside Sam quickly dissipated. "I haven't exactly led a saintly life. Even angels think I'm evil."

Her expression turned next to pity, for she had hoped by now he understood. "Warriors never are innocent Sam. You often had to do gruesome things for the greater good. Good intentions are rewarded here."

Sam didn't believe any of it, even though he knew Jess had no reason to lie. "Yeah, well, there's something about me that Heaven wouldn't like."

Jess smiled and gently grasped his hand, sending another streak of calm through him. "The demon blood isn't your fault Sam. Your judgment is based on what you did with what you were given, not what the source was of your pain."

Sam's shame didn't let up from her assurances. "I've killed innocent people Jess."

"You can't save every victim Sam. Their deaths were not your fault. You've saved more people than you've killed."

"How?"

"It isn't just the person you save Sam. Rescuing one being affects their families, everyone that knows that person, everyone that even gets a smile when they pass that person on the street. If that someone does one good deed, it has a ripple affect that touches many others lives. What you've done, it's had a major impact, more than you'll ever know."

Sam's eyes turned tearful, for he still didn't feel redemption. "I killed you Jess. If you hadn't known me, if I hadn't hidden the truth or been so desperate to be normal that I ignored my nightmares about you, you'd have been able to make your impact too."

Jess smiled. "You're still hanging onto guilt. That's been your undoing. You never forgave yourself for me, and you never forgave yourself for Dean. There was nothing you could have done."

"I wish I could believe that." A tear tell down his cheek, and he took in a deep uneven breath to calm his falling apart insides.

"Unless you release your burdens, then Heaven will never be your final destination."

Sam's look turned to confusion. "I don't understand. Why am I here then?"

"Part of your test is to give you glimpses, see how you react. A pure heart emanates good thoughts, lets go of the negativity and acknowledges even the smallest acts in the name of God make the world a better place. Unpure hearts will be cast out."

"I'm not sure this is where I belong."

"It isn't just the guilt and regret that's tearing at you. You need to let go of Dean."

Sam scrunched his lips together and a few more tears fell at the mention of his brother, for the thought of Dean alone hurt him. He remembered his life without Dean, and it was awful. "I can't."

"Until you let go, everything that weighed you down on earth will weigh you down in the afterlife. After a while, it'll doom your soul. Letting go means rising up, and you'll be cleansed of your impurities. No more evil crawling inside of you, smothering you so bad that you can't breathe. Don't you want that to end Sam?"

"Is that possible?" Another rush of emotion tore into him, settling into the pit of his stomach, the same feeling he got when sucker punched. A sob escaped from him this time.

Jess smiled at his naïveté. "Good things do happen Sam. You've been in the trenches too long. You must be able to see light, or you will be blinded."

Sam pulled her in for hug, desperately needing to feel something else over his pain. Even though he was swarmed by the warm energy from Jess and this place, he still felt uncomfortable. He was a stranger in his own skin. Suddenly, he felt the streaming of warm blood at the back of his head again. He let go of Jess and clutched onto the source of the pain.

Jess gave him another soothing smile and gripped his hand tight as she saw him get woozy. "This place is overwhelming to those with lost hope. Come on, let's walk. It'll help you adjust." Sam nodded and they walked side by side off into the distance.

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Dean entered the massive yet empty cathedral, a place that normally never affected him but given his recent run-ins with the angels, one that now did profoundly. The images of heavenly angels with wings on the stained glass windows made him scoff. Those pictures should be black, not white.

He felt small in the large room, and saw the irony in how cold the place was. Dean took slow wistful steps down the long aisle toward the altar, his eyes fixed on the massive wooden cross that hung in front of him. Sure, he could have gone to the little hokey chapel in the hospital but he needed someplace that would make a statement. A place where his presence would be noticed.

He remembered when his dad, Sam and himself would visit Pastor Jim at his church. How he would sit in the pews, and let his mind wander during the sermons while Sam hung on every word. He'd often watch Sam, and didn't understand why he believed any of this stuff. Maybe because he was too young to remember mom dying. Maybe because he hadn't lost all his innocence. Churches to him were like prisons, and he couldn't wait to get out.

"It's time to put on your party hat." Those words of Sam's rang through his ears and stung him as he stood in front of the altar. Was Sam out there somewhere, still believing in this so called merciful God? Dean hoped so, for now he needed this God too. His gaze stayed glued on the cross, hoping he would get some sort of sign, anything that would tell him what to do next.

After a long silent pause he remembered what Pastor Jim told him to do in times of doubt. Advice he never took. Until now.

To the left was the prayer altar, complete with the numerous votives lined in perfect rows. A few were lit, their flickers sending light echoes against the plaster wall. "It looks like your soul isn't alone Sammy." There was something strangely comforting coming about the few burning lights, as if Sam could use all the help he could get.

Dean took a couple steps toward it and then stopped himself. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He took one of the long matches and ignited it from a flame from another candle. "Thanks for the light," he expressed, hoping whoever's soul the candle was burning for was in a sharing mood. He remembered being told that lighting the candle was an act of faith and charity, so he watched his match burn for several seconds, questioning whether he was acting in desperation or if this was truly an expression of belief. For some reason, blasphemy was a concern to him now.

He lit the nearby votive and extinguished the match. He sank to his knees at the pew as if it was second nature, looking up at the high wooden arches defining the roof of the gothic building. "I meant that out of respect you know."

Dean thought carefully about what words to choose, but then got frustrated. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm missing the proper holy being greetings, but when you arranged to save me from the pit you knew you weren't getting an altar boy here. How about it just be you and me keeping it real?"

He stopped and looked at his hands, shocked to see they were folded together. That was another thing that came from some strange instinct. His eyes moved back upward.

"I'm grateful for what you've done for me, and don't think that I'll ever take it for granted. I apologize for not saying so before now. But, I don't get it. Why can't you give Sammy a break? He's never done anything wrong. He's always been an innocent victim. He's been the one all these years that believed in you and defended you while I wouldn't, yet I'm the one saved? No matter what, he keeps getting the raw deal. He didn't make that deal with Azazel, mom did, yet he's the one getting punished for it."

He paused for a minute, looking upward and around him to see if there was any type of sign. Like an angel or something. When he saw he was still alone, he continued.

"I still have no idea what you want with me, or what it is I'm supposed to do for you, but I can't do it without my brother by my side. We're a team, and I need him. We've stayed alive this long because of each other. He's never used his powers for evil, and he's actually saving lots of people with them. How can that be wrong? I say we turn that evil inside him to something good, especially since we're going to need all the firepower we can get."

Dean stopped, for now he was talking battlefield tactical maneuvers with the almighty. Those might not be the details the boss needed to hear right now. "Please, please don't take Sam from me. He's all I have left." His cracking voice barely choked out the last word while he rubbed the pooling wet out of his eyes.

Dean stayed there for several long minutes, his eyes moving from the high ceiling to the rest of the cathedral behind him then back to the light that now burned for Sam's soul. Dean dropped his head, for Sam's prayers went unanswered for years, why should his be any different? He was hoping he had a little more clout though. He got up, and started the long walk back down the aisle. He'd been away from Sam long enough.

"Can I help you son?"

Dean turned to see the Father standing to his right, his face loaded with sympathy, reading that he was troubled.

"You wouldn't have happened to have seen a guy around here, trench coat, blue suit with loosened tie, rumpled hair. You know, tax accountant on the edge."

"No, I haven't seen anyone like that. We're you supposed to meet him here?"

Dean frowned. "Apparently not." He continued walking, exiting the cathedral to spend what could be his final moments with the only family he had left.

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"So where have you been?" Ruby snarled, as a dejected Dean shuffled into the room.

"Tipping back a few wet ones and banging bar flies." Dean made his way over Sam's bedside, taking the chair on the opposite side of Ruby. He looked at the monitor, a small part of him clinging to the hope that whatever miracle he hoped for would happen. Nothing had changed. "Unlike you, I've been working on a way to save Sam."

"I see you didn't have any luck either."

"Yeah, well I left a message."

Ruby scoffed. "Angels aren't very good at checking their machines. We've got bigger problems anyway. That bitch from legal was looking for you. I guess there are some papers for you to sign. They don't need anymore tests. They're ready to pull life support."

"Perfect," he said, grabbing the back of his neck. "When?"

"Out of respect for his brother and wife, they're giving us until tomorrow morning."

"So why aren't you out there, finding him a life line?"

"Because there isn't one. You were in Hell Dean, you know what happens to drifting souls. How many of them got your extra special attention on the rack of torture?"

Dean wished that looks could slay the demon, because if his could, Ruby would be dead right now. "We have no reason to believe that's what Sam is going through."

"Sure Dean, a human/demon hybrid that both heaven and hell see as a menace. Nobody is going to be kind to him out there."

"Maybe he can fight off the reaper."

"Oh that's a great plan. Then he'll become a disembodied spirit left to fester with all that anger that's within him already. You or another gung ho do-gooder would be hunting him before you knew it. Face it Dean, he's screwed."

Dean shot up, anger flaring in his eyes. "Get out of here!" He ordered, with clenched jaw and firm tone. "Sam doesn't need to be hearing this from us, not in this state."

"Fine," Rudy said, getting up and heading for the door. She stopped a step short, turning her head and taking long pause of concern over a doomed Sam. This could be the last time she'll see him.

"I thought you were leaving," Dean said, not happy she wasn't gone yet.

She turned and left in a huff.

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"You're quiet Sam."

Sam and Jess had been walking for a while now, and even though Sam enjoyed the serenity, it also had an eerie feel. "I really don't know what to say. This is all a little too surreal for me."

"This place doesn't feel right, does it?"

Sam sadly smiled. "No place ever has. I'm sure I can adjust."

Suddenly Sam spotted a man in the distance, pale white with pock marked skin, dark circles under his eyes, and old worn clothing. He froze in fear, as he knew that man. He was a reaper. "No."

"What do you see Sam?"

"You don't see that?"

"See what?"

The man began shaking violently, his body turning into a gray blur. Sam instantly wished he had rock salt, or a weapon, or use of his abilities for he knew this wasn't good. His inner anxiety escalated with each passing second. He groaned as he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his stomach, causing him to drop to his knees, clutch his sides and double over.

"Sam?"

"What's happening to me?"

"Your judgment."

"How can I be punished?" He asked in between hard gasps. "I've always done what I thought was right. I did the best I could."

"I know Sam, but did he think it was right?"

"He?"

"God."

Sam's head started spinning next, along with more stabbing pain. He fought to stay steady on his knees, avoiding any urge to fall flat on the ground. "I prayed my whole life Jess, I never got any answers."

"Yes, you did Sam. You weren't listening."

Jess leaned over, gave him a soft gentle kiss on the forehead and took a few steps backward. "God bless you Sam. I'll pray for your soul." She looked forward, as did Sam, as something bright fast approached from the distance.

A burst of white light appeared, knocking Sam backward like a tidal wave.

Everything faded to black.

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He hadn't slept in over 24 hours, and considering most of those were emotionally draining, fighting his fatigue was a lost battle. The nurse even brought in a comfortable recliner for him to rest after seeing how weary he was.

While sleeping Dean's sixth sense suddenly kicked in, the one he always got when he knew he was being watched. His head jerked up toward the opposite side of the room, and his suspicions were confirmed.

"Hello Dean."

"Cas. Man am I glad to see you."

Castiel's head titled slightly as he fixated on Sam's hollow frame. He'd seen so much suffering in his years, but it'd been a while since he'd seen such an affliction. Human medicine had indeed changed.

"What are you waiting for? Do your angel thing and fix Sammy."

"Dean, there's nothing I can do."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Wha…then why are you here?"

"I'm here as a…friend."

"A friend? You're an almighty being with super-healing mojo and you're here for caring and sharing? You often show up in rooms of coma patients and taunt their loved ones like this?"

"Sam must find his own path to salvation."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Castiel stepped glumly over to Sam. He reached out, placed his hand on top of Sam's, and closed his eyes. His face filled with deeper sorrow a few seconds later as he opened his eyes and removed his hand. "His battle is far from done."

"Yeah, well in the meantime these butchers are just itching to haul him to the morgue so they can get their bed back. There isn't much time."

Castiel came over to Dean next, gently touching his shoulder and making solid eye contact as if he was offering sincerest condolences. "I'm sorry Dean, but the Lord has commanded it. Sam must die."

Dean snapped awake with a gasp, hearing the alarms on the monitors. Sam was crashing.