Only in my dreams will these characters be mine…

Supernatural

Driving for the better part of the day, Dean pulled into a gas station's parking lot. He pulled up to a pump, turning his car off. He headed to the back and filled the Impala up. Dean headed into the station, stopping at the counter. Behind the counter was a tall, bald man. He was tinkering with a watch, one that looked clearly beyond repair. He looked up when Dean stopped, his brown eyes sweeping briefly across Dean's face.

"Just the gas," he asked in a deep, calming voice. Dean nodded, just not in the mood for talking. He watched the guy ring him up, letting his eyes drift to the papers. The front page made his heart start to hammer in his chest. He grabbed one and threw it on the counter.

"Such a shame," the bald man said slowly, "what your brother's doing." Dean's head snapped up looking into, not brown eyes, but a pair of beetle black eyes. He jerked back, tripping over his own feet. Dean fell to the ground, landing on his back side.

The demon walked around the counter, laughing darkly. Dean crab-crawled backwards, fumbling in his pocket for his flask of holy water. Before his hands could wrap around the familiar silver, he was yanked to his feet and thrown into a wall. Like a fly to a spider web, he was stuck and unable to move.

"I always wondered when that brother of yours would embrace his destiny," the demon said, a smirk on his face. His eyes were still black, like his pupils had just taken over entirely. Dean glared at the demon, breathing heavily.

"What, did you honestly think you could stop this? I mean, it was inevitable. The angels aiming for it, the demons aiming for it, it was going to happen. It was definitely going to happen. And now, the apocalypse is in full swing."

"I really hate demonic monologues," Dean muttered trying to fight the demon's hold on him. The demon rolled his eyes muttering, "Fine, no more talking." He moved his head to the right, sending Dean into a rack of chips. Doritos, Cheetos, Funyens, Fritos, and Dean flew all over the floor.

Dean rolled onto his back, extracted the one weapon he didn't want to use, and fired. The demon crumpled to the ground, dead seconds after the bullet pierced the middle of his forehead.

Dean shakily got to his feet, putting the colt into the inside pocket of his jacket. He took quick stock of himself, checking for non-existent injuries. Once he was sure he wasn't hurt, he felt a sinking sensation when he realized he had used one of the four precious bullets he had. If I keep using bullets, I'll have nothing to stop Lucifer and Castiel will have gotten this gun for nothing, he thought

"I've gotta get out of here," he murmured realizing that the cops would eventually show up. "There's an apocalypse going on and you are worried about cops," a voice that sounded like his brother said.

"Yeah, I am," Dean answered his inner voice not caring how crazy he sounded. He collected his paper and hurried out of the store.

"Dean, I think the end of the world is worse than a bunch of cops finding a dead body," the voice continued sounding weary.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot. Dean could almost see his brother roll his eyes. "I am a figment of your imagination and you still tell me to shut up. Unbelievable."

Dean ignored the voice, concentrating on driving. Like the real Sam, the voice would not be ignored. "Can you kill me? Honestly? Because you couldn't when I was possessed by Meg, you couldn't when I was infected with that demonic virus, you just can't kill me."

Still ignoring-what Dean was now guessing was a sign of going crazy-his voice he gripped the steering wheel tighter and put his foot to the floor. "Besides, dude, with three bullets left you can't go around shooting any old demon."

"I know," Dean snapped no longer incapable of ignoring the voice. He half expected Sam to appear in the passenger seat, scrolling through the countless articles he had already found on his computer or reading the paper Dean had-for all intents and purposes-stolen.

"The last thing you want to hear, while driving, is all the crap Lucifer is doing," his voice said.

"It's better to know the enemy than be in the dark," Dean muttered stopping at a stop sign. He looked both ways, looking for anything barreling down on him, and continued driving. Even in a hurry, he kept a look out for other vehicles. Since the semi accident he wasn't taking any chances.

"You and your unhealthy obsession with the Impala." Dean could almost see his brother roll his eyes, again.

"Hey, this car's saved your ass a couple times, so stop being such a dick about my obsessions. This is our home, our sanctuary, our…"

"After twenty-six years of hearing this damn rant, I gotta say it gets old."

Dean fell silent, deciding to go back to ignoring his inner voice. He glanced at the map on the dash, making sure he kept the directions precise, unable to handle the crushing blow if he got lost and Lucifer killed more people.

He heard the paper rustle and a voice say, "He's takingmost of the east off the map." Dean nearly crashed the car, turning to see Anna sitting in the passenger seat. His heart was thumping a hundred miles a minute, his eyes snapping back to the road.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," Dean muttered listening to his heart slow down back to the normal number of beats.

"I'm sorry. Bobby told me what you were going to do," Anna said softly. She continued to scan the paper, Dean hearing every intake of breath as she came across another world ending story.

"Don't tell me, an area has started raining down toads or something," Dean tried to joke. Anna didn't answer and when Dean looked over he found her gone, the paper fluttering back to the seat.

"I am sponsoring a 'buy a bell for the angels' fundraiser," Dean muttered irritated. His voice didn't reply, which made him wonder if the sight of the red headed angel snapped him out of his moment of insanity.

He continued driving, every so often checking the map. He kept wondering why his voice-his 'craziness is overtaking me' voice-wasn't talking to him anymore. Maybe like the real Sam, the voice got all bitchy when Dean was being stubborn.

Dean drove past a sign announcing his arrival into Lucifer's "hideout" around six. He wasn't a big fan of Ohio, always tried to avoid the state if he could. He drove past crumbling houses and broken establishments, trying to find out any area that Lucifer could be in.

The town had definitely seen better days. Some cars sat, abandoned on the side of the road. A couple had bodies hanging out the broken windows, blood dripping from their unmoving appendages. Dean had a fleeting image of a very bloody bread crumb trail, almost like Lucifer was expecting him. The only thing missing was a sign hanging over the town saying, "TOLEDO WELCOMES DEAN WINCHESTER."

The bloody trail stopped at a dilapidated shack, right on the outskirts of town. Dean knew a trap when he saw one; had more than a feeling that Lucifer was expecting him. It was like the fallen angel was watching his every move.

"Well, this just plain sucks," Dean muttered getting out of his car. He pocketed the colt, kept his holy water at a hands reach, and quietly shut the door. He headed toward the shack, wondering if an army of demons were about to attack him.

The door had peeling green paint, the chips scraping across Dean's hand as he pushed it open. The hinges creaked almost inaudibly, but loud enough to make Dean cringe. He waited for the demons to attack, for them to just kill him.

The shack had one room and one room only. The furniture had been moved out, except a table, leaving the place lonelier than the outer appearance. On the table, which was sitting in the middle of the room, was a silver cell phone.

"What the hell," Dean muttered raising his eyebrows in curious confusion. Before he could dwell on it even more, the thing started ringing. Dean crossed the room in seconds, picking the plastic thing up. He flipped it open, the caller ID revealing a number he knew well, and said, "Where are you, you freak?"

"Oh, Dean, mind your tone," a familiar voice said. Dean felt his heart clench at just hearing Sam. He knew it wasn't Sam, but growing up with the voice was enough to make a feeling of dread settle over him.

"Where are you," Dean growled clutching the phone so tight he was sure it would break. He was shaking, whether with anger or anguish he wasn't sure.

"I'm around," Lucifer replied sounding mildly amused.

"When I get my hands on you…"

"Letting that sin take over you, anger, is very unhealthy. I had a feeling Castiel would make you come after me. How is that angel anyway?"

"A lot better than you'll be," Dean snapped turning when he heard the door creak. No one was standing in the threshold, but it was slightly ajar. Dean was sure he closed the door. "What, sending your demonic lackeys after me?"

"Oh, why would I do that? They have free reign on any hunter that stumbles upon them. They hurt you, they're just doing their job," Lucifer said, a laugh in his voice. Dean heard a floorboard creak and spun around to see nothing. That's when he felt the arm wrap around his windpipe.

"Bye, Dean," was the last thing he heard before he dropped the phone onto the wooden floor.

SUPERNATURAL

One phone conversation changed everything for Sam. He had heard the exchange between Dean and Lucifer, then the choked sound coming from his brother, followed by Lucifer saying good-bye to Dean. He knew it was no use to fight against Lucifer, that the fallen angel had more power than Sam could ever imagine, but it didn't hurt to try.

"You can't hurt my brother," Sam tried to say, practically pleading with the fallen angel.

"Sammy, I'm not doing anything to him. He walked into that shack; he's the one that has to suffer the consequences. I am glad to see you trying to fight me, you're attempt is frivolous, but I respect it nevertheless."

Sam held onto hope that his brother would kill the demon and then come and finish Lucifer off. How, he wasn't sure. Especially after Lucifer already announced nothing human made could kill him, but there had to be something. There just had to be.

"If threatening Dean was all it took to make you fight, then I should have done that a long time ago," Lucifer said sounding nearly amused. "But, honestly, what are the odds of Dean getting out of that situation alive. Slim to none."

He obviously didn't know Dean. Sam had seen his brother get out of some very tight scrapes before, and still have enough energy to banter Sam the entire walk back to the car or the motel or wherever they were staying or going.

"Everyone can be taken down somehow."

"Not Dean," Sam tried to say. He kept forgetting that he had no control over his voice, that he was just a vessel for something so bad that the world had to suffer for it.

"Something you brought on Sammy," Lucifer reminded him. "Besides, your brother is just as human as everyone else. Just as weak and pathetic as every single human out there. He'll fall, no doubt about that. And when he does, well that'll just be one less abomination I have to deal with."

Lucifer went silent, no laughter filling Sam's head that time. The young hunter shrank back into his dark prison, wishing there was a way he could end it all himself. He would pray, but God didn't answer the prayers of demonic scum. And that is what he was, just another demon; another demon that should be taken from the world and buried deep in the bowels of Hell.

And just as his will to fight suddenly sprung up it was quickly doused. All hope he had felt was lost, and he was once again wishing that someone would hurry up and just end it, take him away where he couldn't hurt anyone else. A part of him wished his father had just left him in his crib, all those years ago, and let him perish in that fire that took his mother. Then none of this ever would have happened.

"Too bad Doloreans didn't exist, eh Sammy," he could almost hear Dean say. Yeah, Dean, too bad, Sam thought bitterly and let his despair wash over him again. That was all he could do, bask in self pity until someone killed him. And that is what I'll do.