AN: Thanks as always to Manda, LovinJackson and Deb for their help with this chapter!

Lawrence, Kansas.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Mary. It's just...so damn hard. I keep letting you down."

The sun was flitting through the trees above him as John sat beside Mary's grave, his wings curled around him as he sat with a bottle of whiskey at his feet. There'd been a time after Mary's death that alcohol had been a crutch for John to lean on to get through the long, lonely nights. But getting blind drunk wasn't going help anything. This wasn't a time to be running from his problem. John needed to face them head on. His sons needed him.

Sons? You're already down one. He's taken your place, remember?

John closed his eyes as his own thoughts damned him. He'd failed Dean and now he was failing Sam too. It was all too obvious to John that his son was slipping away from him, slowly losing his mind to grief.

"I wish you were here, Mary. I could really use some advice right now. You always knew how to handle this sort of thing better than me." His fingers brushed the top of the bottle for a moment, flirting with the idea of opening it. With a sigh, John tipped the bottle over and pushed it away with one foot. He couldn't bring himself to drink here, of all places. This was his safe haven, the one place that John had come over the years to just sit and talk to Mary. It didn't matter to him that she wasn't actually here, that the grave was empty.

There was something about the serenity of the place that made John feel closer to Mary when he sat here. It allowed him to lower the walls for once and just admit that he didn't have all the damn answers.

"Sam's not coping with Dean's death. I'm not sure he ever would have, but it's scaring me to see him like this. He's not eating right, he won't sleep...I don't know what to do, Mary." John's vision blurred with tears but he smudged them away roughly with a calloused thumb before they could fall. The simplest answer was to find Crowley, but that was proving to be anything but simple. John felt like he was living through some strange case of deja vu. Chasing a damn demon all over again and Azazel was still behind all this pain. Still laughing at them, the bastard.

Sam was pinning everything on them bringing Dean back without looking at the possibility that it might not happen. John knew escape wasn't impossible from Hell...but what were they bringing back?

His body was gone. Skye had insisted they salt and burn Dean after he had died and had scattered the ashes here, over Mary's grave to let him be at rest with his mother. Without that body, what would Dean return as? Some sort of twisted thing like John? A half winged freak?

Reaching out, John placed his hand to the grass in front of Mary's gravestone, letting his fingers sink into the soft blades before they dug in sharply a moment later. Dirt ground in under his nails, the damp earth feeling coarse and uninviting. The cold stark reality of the grave beneath him.

This feeling of utter helplessness wasn't something he wore easily, taking John back to those dark days after Mary was gone and he had been left to fend for himself with the boys. Crowley had to be out there. John wasn't doing enough to find him. He was letting Dean down, letting Mary down by not looking after their sons.

John got to his feet, bending over to pick up the bottle of whiskey before he threw it as far as he could, watching the bottle arc through the air and shatter against a tree in the distance. No more booze. John was done with that and he was going to make sure Sam was too.

"I'll see you again soon, Mary. And this time I'll bring the boys..." It was a promise to his wife's memory that John wouldn't break.

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Evening was starting to crawl across the Auto yard, bathing everything in shades of grey and black. From her seat by the nursery's window, Skye could see right out across the crumpled stacks of broken cars and pick up trucks. Right across to where the Impala seemed to lay in wait for her owner to return and soothe her wounds.

It was a task that was expected to fall to Sam, now that the muscle car had been left for him. But nobody had any illusions of that actually happening. Not now. Maybe not ever.

And so instead the Impala sat quietly in the yard, her wounds exposed for all to see as a sharp reminder of what was lost.

Skye didn't need any such reminders. There was no escaping it for her. The strange, restless feeling that she was somehow incomplete. As though some important part was missing from within and without it, she would never feel whole again. How the hell was it possible for someone to make her feel that way? How could someone crawl under your skin so easily until you felt like it was hard to breathe without them there? The sense of peace that Skye had always known around Dean was gone now and it wasn't ever coming back. No matter how much she wanted it to.

There was no sound in the nursery, save for Ethan's soft snuffly breathing as he slept in the crib across the room. Skye checked on him quietly, watching her son sleep before she let her gaze travel up the wall beside the cot, taking in all the secret runes and protections that guarded her little boy through the night. Protections that Dean had put in place before he had died to ensure his son would be safe from the evil out there in the darkness.

Reaching out, Skye traced a rune with one finger, a sad smile slowly appearing. Maybe if they had placed these runes over the Impala, he would still be here? Why couldn't the same protections and sigils have guarded the father like they did the son? It wasn't fair and Skye hated the way it made her feel deep inside. She wanted to love the nursery and all the work that Dean, Bobby and John had put into it. But now it was only another painful reminder of how much they had lost.

From downstairs, Skye could hear the sound of dishes rattling, pots clanging, as dinner was being served. She placed a kiss to the tip of her fingers and gently touched Ethan's forehead before leaving the room, closing the door behind her and heading downstairs to eat.

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Dinner had seemed like a good idea at the time. A chance for them to all come together and just sit down as a family once again. Casual conversation, good food – it was all so simple in Elise's mind. Of course, simple ideas in theory often proved nightmarish when put into reality.

The tension in the room was stifling. Cutlery screeched across plates without a word of conversation. Nothing but the odd glance and awkward look was shared amongst them. Okay, so maybe telling everyone that there would be no "shop talk" at the table was a bad idea. What else could Bobby talk about other than cars if he couldn't discuss hunting with Sam?

Not that Sam was being any sort of conversationalist. He was picking at his food and pushing the rest around with his fork. His eyes were blank and almost lifeless as he sat slumped in his seat, a picture of exhaustion and defeat.

Skye refused to meet anyone's gaze, her eyes flitting to the empty chair beside her at regular intervals before she would return to slowly slicing through her mash potato with her fork.

Add John's absence to that mix and Elise was starting to think she deserved an award for creating the world's worst dinner gathering.

"So...um...has anyone heard from John? Is it worth me putting his tea in the oven for him?" Elise looked around the table, trying to engage someone in conversation.

"Tea? John's not much of a tea drinker there, Elise." Bobby offered, trying to enjoy his meal as he washed it down with a shot of whiskey. The food was fantastic and deserved a better drink to wash it down than the cheap whiskey Bobby had managed to get his hands on, but he'd been happy for anything to take his mind off things.

"Not that sort of tea, Bobby...dinner! I meant is it worth me putting his dinner in the oven?" One of these days Elise would remember that she spoke a different language sometimes compared to everyone else. At least, it felt that way.

"How the hell should I know? I ain't his freaking wife, go ahead if you think he'll be home in time to eat it before it becomes a science experiment." Bobby shrugged, pouring another drink for himself. There was no saying how the man was truly dealing after the death of his eldest boy. Mary's death was still a wound that bleed and crippled the man after all these years. How much more was he hurting now with Dean in Hell? How hard was he pushing himself to find answers that weren't there? "Sam, you heard from John at all?"

"No. Nothing." The words were ground out sullenly, his eyes never leaving his food. Sam didn't want to be here. Sitting at this table, playing happy families as if they hadn't lost Dean. One glance at Skye was all that was needed to tell Sam that she was on the same page here. She didn't want to sit with that empty chair any more than he did. But Elise had asked him and Sam had agreed to spare her feelings. He knew she was worried about him after the nightmare he'd had earlier. Nightmare...yeah, if only that was all it was.

His fork skittered across his plate as Sam found his hands clenching into fists. Dean was screaming and dying in his head again. Over and over...every damn time he closed his eyes. Sam couldn't escape it.

A soft hand folded over his knuckles, easing his grip as Sam saw Elise watching him, fear and concern playing across her face like a movie at an old fashioned drive in movie show. Nothing needed to be said in that moment. Sam knew exactly what Elise was saying – that she was there for him. He didn't have to deal with this alone.

Skye could see the pair out of the corner of her eye and wished she could push away the surge of jealousy that rushed to the surface like an oil slick, tainting her thoughts and feelings at that moment. How was it fair for them to do that in front of her? Playing happy couples. Skye wanted to scream and knock over the empty chair beside her. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and just release all the anger and hurt within. Lash out and just make someone else know what she was feeling right now.

But even as those dark poisonous feelings were crawling through her veins like serpents, Skye knew they were wrong. Sam was struggling with Dean's death too. They all were. How could she be jealous of Sam reaching out for the life preserver that Elise was able to offer him with her love? Skye pushed her plate away from her a little, too sick and disgusted with herself to eat now.

Even Connor had picked up on the mood in the room, staying unusually quiet as he ate his dinner, dropping the occasion morsel of food down to the puppy beneath his chair. Every so often he would sneak another bite of food off his plate, his blue eyes flitting to each person at the table to ensure he wasn't caught before he did it.

A bite of potato.

A slice of steak.

A sliver of carrot.

Each smuggled treat was secretly slipped off the plate and under the table, Connor pleased with each success until...

"Connor, stop feeding that puppy."

Connor sat up and looked solemnly at his mother, his eyes wide and apologetic. "He's hungry."

"Well he can be fed after dinner. Not from your plate. Eat." Skye's words were clipped and sharp as she spoke, feeding off the mass of anger and pain that seemed to have Skye's chest tighter than a drum skin at that moment. The matter seemed settled until another small cut of steak was slipped surreptitiously to the pup a few minutes later. "CONNOR!"

The little boy jumped in his seat, his plate banging as it skipped a few inches across the table. Tears welled in his eyes as Connor was confronted with his mother's temper.

"What did I tell you?"

"Not to feed him."

"Exactly. You ignored me, didn't you?"

Connor nodded, his bottom lip quivering. "Yes..."

"Go to your room and stay there. In fact, go to bed!" Skye demanded angrily.

"Skye, simmer down. The boy didn't mean anything by it."

"Stay out of this, Bobby. Connor needs to learn to behave."

"He's four!"

"He's not yours!" Skye rounded furiously, slamming her hand down on the table. " I know this is your house, Bobby, but Connor's my son and he'll do as he's told." She turned back towards Connor and pointed towards the doorway. " I mean it, Connor. Get into bed! Now!"

Connor leapt down from his chair and ran from the room with the puppy at his heels, the sound of crying filtering back down the hall in his wake a minute later.

"Skye..." Elise broached cautiously, trying to soothe frayed tempers.

"Not now, Elise. I don't need to hear it! I don't need...just..just don't. Leave it alone. Just leave me alone. Everyone! I can't do this. I can't deal with this, right now." Skye pushed her chair away, her words starting to topple from her lips, faster and faster as panic set in. God, what had she done? Lashed out at her son because he was feeding a puppy? What was wrong with her?

Bolting from the dining room, Skye picked up her pace, taking the stairs two at a time and all but running down the hallway until she got to her room where she slammed the door behind her. Her knees buckled under her, slowly sliding Skye down the door until she was sat on the floor in a heap.

Across the room, Dean's jacket was hanging on the back of a chair, the books he had been reading before he died still lying open on the desk. Books about Hell and crossroads and ways to beat the devil at his own game.

Skye's lip trembled as her defences shattered. The jacket disappeared from her sight in a watery haze of tears that spilt down her face as a sob was torn from her throat. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked gently as she allowed herself a moment of release, sobs wracking her body. Her world was falling apart, piece by piece and Skye didn't know how to hold it all together any more. She was fighting so hard to be strong for the boys... to be that rock for them. But the one person Skye had grown to rely on was gone now and she felt like she was tumbling into endless darkness with no way to stop herself.

Downstairs in the dining room, Sam slowly pushed his chair away from the table, getting to his feet. "I need to go out for a while.."

"What? Wait...I'll come with you." Elise offered, getting up out of her own chair to follow. It felt as though it was hard to breathe in here now. A quick glance towards Bobby as he poured himself another glass of whiskey told Elise she wasn't the only one feeling it. All dinner had achieved was to open the wounds in this family even further.

"You can't. I'm meeting someone who can lead me to Crowley. They won't see me unless I'm alone." Sam's voice held no emotion. It was as dead as his eyes...as the rest of him seemed since the accident.

Elise could feel her throat closing up as she nodded. "O-oh...okay. I'll um, hold the fort here then, I guess? Bobby and I can crack some books." It was killing her, seeing Sam like this. Knowing that the only time she saw any sort of real life in him...was when he was dreamwalking with his brother. How was that fair? How much longer could Sam do that before it destroyed him?

Folding her arms around herself, Elise tried not to show how hurt she felt as Sam quickly kissed her on the top of the head and left, the screen door banging a moment later behind him.

"You want to crack some books, huh?"

Elise turned, looking over her shoulder at Bobby's raised eyebrow. "Not really, but what else am I supposed to do, Bobby? I can't sit back and watch Sam coming apart like this. I've got to try and help him."

"You don't want to get involved in what Sam's doing, Elise. You don't want any part of this...believe me." Bobby drained his glass and slapped it back down on the table. His eyes were red and watery from trying to hold in his emotions. "That boy's hanging on by a thread...and that thread is you. You're something in his life that's not tainted by everything around him. Keep it that way. Go and see to Skye. I'll see what I can find to help Sam and John."

"But..."

"That ain't a request, girl." Bobby growled as he got to his feet and stormed away to the Den. Sure, he could have handled that a lot better, but Bobby was tired and he was hurting as much as the rest of them. Keeping this family together was like trying to play pick up sticks with boxing gloves on. Every damn crack that appeared was another knife in Bobby's heart. Another wound to try and heal. Bobby had buried so many people he cared about over the years and he was done with it. He was done watching the evil in the world gutting good people. Each day seemed to bring more and more weight to his shoulders, but Bobby would keep fighting, because what else could he do?

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"Skye?"

"Go away." Skye tried to tuck her knees in tighter against her chest. Just curl up into a ball and shut out the whole world right now until she was able to breathe again. Until it didn't hurt with every beat of her heart to face the reality of what had happened. It wasn't death if you didn't accept it. Skye had read that somewhere once and now it was all she could hold on. No death. No acceptance. Dean wasn't gone. He wasn't. Any time now he would walk back into the house with that cocky grin and smart mouth of his. The more Skye thought about it, the more fervent her wish became. She could hear his voice in her head and swore she could smell his aftershave. Was she losing her mind?

"Skye, come on, mate. Open up...please?"

Skye didn't want to open the door. If she opened the door and let Elise in, then she had to face up to Dean being dead again. It was too much right now. It hurt too much. Couldn't they just leave her alone up here? Was that too much to ask?

Elise's persistent knocking was enough of an answer. With a sigh, Skye dragged herself to her feet and opened the door, stepping back to let Elise into the room. "What?"

"Nice. Thanks for making me feel welcome there." Elise shot back as she entered the room and sat down on the bed. " I brought you something."

"You brought me something?"

"Look, I wasn't meant to give these to you until it was the right time, but judging by the meltdown you had earlier? It's definitely time you saw them." Elise held a DVD out towards Skye.

"What is it?" Skye reached towards the DVD before she hesitated and withdrew her hand again.

"It's not going to bloody bite you, Skye. It's from Dean. Just...watch it. Okay?" Elise pushed the DVD into Skye's hand and turned to leave.

"Elise, wait. I'm sorry. About before. I didn't mean to snap like that."

"I know. Things have been shitty all round lately. It's okay, Skye. Just watch that DVD. I'll be downstairs if you need me." Elise gave Skye a brief, tight smile and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her but not moving away just yet. Elise wanted to be sure that Skye was going to be okay before she took herself downstairs.

Back in the room, Skye hadn't moved. She felt rooted to the spot, staring at the disc in her hand, her mind racing with thoughts of what would be on it. "Come on, dammit, snap out of it. You can do this..." She berated herself quietly. Her old laptop was sitting on the desk along with Dean's books and Skye found herself letting her fingers sink in and bury themselves amongst the folds of Dean's leather jacket as she pulled the chair back. If she closed her eyes for a moment, Skye could still recall the feel of that jacket on Dean's shoulders.

The disc was slipped into the laptop and Skye held her breath as it began to load, unable to look away from the screen before her.

"Skye...hey...uh..."

Dean's face filled the screen and in that moment, Skye felt her throat lock tight, her chest filled with an ache that threatened to crush her heart inside her. He looked so alive, a nervous smile on his face that quickly brightened into the grin she knew all too well as he chuckled quietly.

" I'm kinda hoping you'll never have to see this, cause if I get out of that deal? I've got plans for me and Sam to use this disc as target practice. But...well, in case I manage to screw things up somehow and I don't escape the pit? " Dean looked away from the camera, running a hand over his face as he composed himself again. He snorted softly as if he found the whole thing amusing in some way, but his eyes told another story as Dean looked back at the camera. "I figured that I needed to tell you a few things. You know I've never been the sorta of guy who deals with all that touchy feely chick flick stuff..."

Skye's face was awash with tears now, her lip trembling in a mirror of how Connor's had been earlier.

Dean paused again to clear his throat and looked past the camera to whoever was filming him. "You uh, you think I could maybe film this part alone?" His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Skye heard a soft voice she recognised as Elise agree to leave and then a door close.

"Okay, uh...where the hell do I begin? I guess I should start by saying that I never meant for this to happen. But I'm not sorry for it panning out like this either. Not if it means your here to watch this. I can deal with what's coming...but I need you to do a few things for me..."

Skye reached behind her and slid Dean's jacket off the chair and over her shoulders, wrapping it around her closely, burying her face in it and drawing in that scent of leather, smoke and gun oil that was everything Dean. Fresh tears escaped as Skye closed her eyes and let go of the pain inside her, surrounded by Dean's voice, his scent. Her face crumpled completely as Skye started to sob, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. The jacket could never replace the feel of Dean's arms holding her and the security that had always offered. The emptiness inside was never going to go away...

Outside in the hallway, Elise's hand hovered over the door handle as she contemplated going back in to sit with Skye. But what could she say right now? Or do to make any of this better? Skye was finally allowing herself to really grieve and Elise didn't feel right walking in on that. Instead she headed back downstairs to the kitchen, deciding that she'd have a look in the pantry cupboards and see if Bobby had left any of that cheap whiskey behind. Just one small drink to calm her nerves was all she needed. Bobby would be holed up in the Den for hours and Skye wasn't likely to emerge again from the room tonight. That left Elise with nothing but several hours of crap TV to watch until Sam finally came home.

Elise found the whiskey and poured herself a small measure before she topped it up with some Coca Cola from the fridge. Nursing the glass in her hands, she looked out the kitchen window across the now darkened auto yard, wondering where Sam had actually gone? Maybe this time he'd find what he was looking for?

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Failure. One small word that seemed to be suffocating Sam more and more with ever passing day. Failure to save his brother. Failure to find an answer to getting Dean back...failure at being honest with the people who loved him, about just how far he was willing to go to get his brother back.

His gaze slid from slide to side, hiding beneath the long, untidy bangs of hair that framed his face. His fingers tapped the glass they were nursing ever so lightly. One small concession to the nervousness that was churning his stomach like a washing machine. What the hell was he even doing here? It looked like any other bar you would find in small town America. Smoky, inviting and infinitely forgettable.

Sam had been to hundreds of bars like this over the years with Dean. They'd hustled pool, tried to drown memories of hunts that had gone wrong, drank with other hunters. It all felt like a lifetime ago now and Sam took another mouthful of his bourbon as he wondered what Dean would think of his little brother, if he could see him right now?

What Dean would think if he knew the company Sam was keeping now?

Sam already knew the answer to that. It was enough to have him drain his glass and order another right away, sliding his money along the bar without meeting the bartender's eyes. He didn't want to draw attention to himself in here. Not when he was the only human...or at least, the most human out of any of the patrons here.

Demons, shapeshifters, even a few vampires could be seen filling booths and sitting at tables. It had begun the day that the Devil's Gate had opened. The world had shifted – the lines between human and what had once lived in the dark blurring to the point where it was almost impossible to know who was what any more. The world tried to turn a blind eye to what was happening around it, choosing to ignore what it couldn't explain and understand.

It was like an apple. On the surface, it looked normal, wholesome...perfect. It wasn't until you cut into the skin and looked beneath the surface that you found the worm there and by then, you'd usually eaten half of it.

The world was evolving and Sam had evolved with it. He could sense everything around him, every demon and unworldly creature breathing the same air he was. It should have unsettled him that he was able to blend so easily...that not one of them had confronted him about his presence here. But Sam couldn't bring himself to care any more.

This was where he needed to be. This was where he would find the answers he needed.

"Well, well, well. I wasn't sure if you were going to stand me up..."

"Ruby." Sam didn't look up as he spoke, gently swirling the amber liquid inside his glass. "I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind." Sam swallowed the last of his drink, savouring the burn in his throat as the bourbon rolled over his tongue. He looked over at the pretty brunette behind him, pulling away from her slightly as she ran a hand over his shoulders. "Don't do that..."

"Don't be such a prude, Sam. You can't blame a girl for trying..." The brunette clicked her fingers at the bartender. "A House special and a double scotch over here, Ray."

"Look, I'm here like we arranged. You said you could help me...so let's do it." Sam moved to stand up, swinging around on his bar stool.

"Slow down there, Hotshot...have a drink with me first."

"I don't have time for this." Sam argued, feeling dirty for being in here.

"Make time. You want Dean out of the pit? You need me...and right now? I feel like having a drink, so sit." Ruby placed a slender hand on Sam's chest and gently pushed him back down onto the bar stool.

Right there and then, Sam knew he should have just walked out of that bar. It went against the grain to sit there and be told what to do. But what choice did he have? Leave Dean in Hell and watch his family disintegrate around him while Sam lost his mind every time he slept?

Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Turning back to the bar, Sam picked up the drink that had been placed in front of him, his gaze shifting to Ruby as she lifted her own glass and knocked it gently against his.

"Here's to the start of something beautiful, Sam..."