Sam took in the smooth black walls, the gold-lined doors, and added every step of the labyrinthine layout to his growing mental map.

Up ahead, hovering at shoulder height and already fading, was a glowing white arrow of light that indicated Gabriel had gone this direction.

Sam turned left by the marker. Three yards. Another marker. Left turn. Ten yards. Marker. Right turn. One, two, three, four—

"Sam!"

Gabriel's voice, full of alarm. It came from far ahead. Sam sped up.

Step one of their rescue plan, if this hasty and ill-researched act of desperation could even be called such, had been to let Gabriel lead the way into the den of the succubus with Sam following behind. Gabriel knew what the demon was—though he had yet to say outright—and he had a sense of how to track her (supposedly). The angel would engage first, doing his best to weaken the mystery monster while positioning her back to the door. When she was in range, Sam would strike hard and fast from behind, hopefully killing her so they could rescue Dean and Cas.

"And you'll be back together singing kumbaya before bed," Gabriel had bragged.

Sam hated this plan, not least of all because it relied heavily on Gabriel. The torment that "Loki" had put him and his brother through held a special label in his memory marked, "the worst." It was a moniker Sam also gave to Loki a.k.a. Gabriel himself, but the younger Winchester had to concede that if both Dean and Cas had fallen under the succubus's might, Gabriel had better take the lead. Like it or not, it was the sensible option.

Five minutes into their search, the pitch-black halls, and gold-lined doors led on without variance. If the constant downhill slope was real and not imaginary, Sam guessed they were two stories underground by now. So far, there had been no visible or audible hint of Cas, Dean, or any telltale signs of torture. If it weren't for the breadcrumbs of glowing arrows that Gabriel had conjured at his every turn, Sam would think he was alone down here.

All he heard were his footsteps and heavy breaths. A few more minutes like this, and he might begin to fear that this endless maze of nondescript halls and doors was a trap he had fallen into and would never escape. But then Gabriel called for him.

"SAM!" The voice boomed like a bomb dropping, and Sam broke into a dead sprint.

FiveSixSevenEightMarkerRight—

Sam pulled up short in the open doorway. His eyes wouldn't close, too many visual enigmas.

This room was wrong. Dead wrong. It looked, and more than that, felt like a garden shed in the middle of a forest. The ground was packed dirt with hints of grass. Colors of sunset shone through the cracks in the rough-hewn wooden walls. Garden tools covered in rust and grease and earth, the scent of fresh air, the heat from a ray of sunlight, it made no sense. Yet here it was. Underground. Inside.

"I didn't scream your name because I needed a replacement door," Gabriel growled from a kneeling position against the far wall.

Sam hurried into the room—shed?—glancing up to note a hanging lightbulb and cobwebs before realizing that Gabriel sat hunched over a figure.

"Cas," Sam breathed, feeling the ground rush up to meet his knees as he sank down. "No."

The huddled angel's skin was practically translucent, blue veins shining through. Bruises marred his under eyes. Naked except for his pants and tie (the latter of which was pulled so tight it seemed to have been used to strangle him), Sam counted at least ten stab wounds on Castiel's torso. A gaping hole, one that Sam would bet ran straight through Castiel's body, shone bright red on his right shoulder.

Bile rose up Sam's esophagus, along with a fiery rage.

"Hold his legs," instructed Gabriel. "He might kick."

Sam pressed both hands down over Castiel's ankles.

"Close your eyes."

Even with his lids screwed tight and his face tucked into his shoulder, the light from Gabriel's grace was almost unbearable to Sam. Then it was gone.

Castiel had not kicked.

"Okay, Boyscout, you're safe."

Sam opened his eyes and saw Gabriel turn to gaze at him. His voice was breathy, but he wasn't sweating and didn't appear scared.

"This is bad," he said.

"Is he dead?" Sam blurted, guts in a knot.

"No, but he would have been soon."

Sam stood and backed up toward the door, adrenaline spiking, jaw clenched. He raised the angel blade.

"You stay with Cas. I'll go—"

"No." Gabriel shot to his feet. "We're close. When we find Dean, we'll find her too. We go together."

"And what about Cas?" Sam challenged.

Gabriel furrowed his brow. Then his mouth curled into a smirk, and he met Sam's gaze with glee.

"I have a brilliant idea that everyone is going to hate." He scooped Cas up and hoisted him over his shoulder before hurrying for the open doorway.

Sam bit back numerous replies and followed.

One, two, three, four—Gabriel jogged ahead. Cas was like a scarecrow. Boneless, lifeless. Five, six, seven. The air smelled of mold. Gabriel's head twitched to the right. Eight, nine yards. Right turn into another corridor, identical to the rest. Gabriel stopped at the first door on the left side. With care, he lowered Castiel to the floor. His hand lingered over the other angel's heart.

"Don't hate me, bro." Gabriel's voice was so soft that Sam wasn't sure he heard correctly. Then Castiel disappeared from view.

It happened in an instant. A blink. When Sam's mind caught up with his eyes—and by then Gabriel was standing—Sam hissed, "What did you do?"

"I'll explain later."

"Like hell." Sam stepped up to the angel. "Explain now."

"Can't." Gabriel grabbed Sam's forearm and swung him with surprising strength at the door on the right side of the hall. "You have to fight now."

The door burst open, and Sam hoisted the angel blade.

Basement. Mildew. Knives. The copper stench of stale spilled blood. Here was the torture chamber. Sam's eyes narrowed. The monster, clothed in a black dress and kneeling over the figure of his brother, spun to face the door.

Heart in his throat, Sam shouted, "Dean!" In the dim lighting, he wasn't sure—couldn't see well enough to know if he was alive or not. "Dean, answer me!"

No sound came, but Dean moved, and Sam could have slumped against the wall in relief. So many other thoughts should have been in his head, but all that Sam could register was, "He's alive." And furious. He emphatically mouthed for Sam to leave.

Fat chance.

The angel blade caught light from a work lamp overhead, and Sam tightened his hold as the demoness marched forward.

"Well, Sam Winchester," she purred, her voice smooth and sweet. Her hair seemed to be darkening from red to brown, and she plucked something from her temple before tossing it to the ground. It clattered as she said, "What obnoxious timing you have."

"Get away from my brother!"

Sam rushed the bitch. It was close, but she was fast and escaped his blade unscathed. He tried again. She was just too fast. Sam saw Dean mouth, "Come on, Sammy." He took a sharp breath and punched up the pace. Yes! He had sliced her arm. The demon bled reddish grey.

As he fought, other thoughts flooded in. Why the hell had he and Gabriel come up with a plan if the jerk was going to ignore it? But then Sam caught a flash of something behind the succubus—a moving shadow cast by nothing—and he realized that Gabriel was in the room.

Now he understood. This was still the plan, but with the roles reversed. Sam would make sure the succubus's back remained facing Gabriel and Dean.

The world grew warm and fuzzy. It staggered Sam. Heat flooded his body, starting at his groin and spreading to his extremities. The basement faded into soft, hazy clouds, and his eyes magnetized to the enchanting figure of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was gorgeous. Dainty. Lightly tan. Her large, brown eyes regarded Sam as if all she wanted in life was to spend forever by his side, loving him.

No. That was wrong. This was a trick.

Move, Sam commanded himself.

Stay, he heard in his mind. And why not? The woman was coming to him, and she was a wondrous thing. A miracle. Sam had never felt such a pull to another person. He had to have her. The angel blade—why had he been holding it?—felt wrong in his hands. She belonged there, underneath his touch, not the unfeeling weapon.

A hard thud pulled Sam from his daze and sharpened the basement to its former, stark angles. The stench of blood struck hard, and Sam latched onto the fact that it was Dean's blood. Cas's blood. Sam focused his eyes and sought out his brother. The older Winchester lay face down and unmoving, a curved blade in his hand and stretched out toward the fray. Even after all this torture, he was still fighting.

Sam lifted the angel blade.

"You two are the most stubborn men I have ever encountered," said the demoness as she stood relaxed across from Sam, a hand on her hip. "But between you and me," she pointed over her shoulder and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "he's a little more stubborn."

Sam huffed, "I know."

A shadow fell across Dean's body. It rolled him onto his back. Gabriel.

"What are you?" Sam demanded, as much to know as to hold her attention while Gabriel, hopefully, got Dean to safety. "No lies."

The succubus smiled. "I'm the best lay you'll ever have, baby."

And her magic returned, suffocating all sense with the heat of desire, the pull toward her body, and this time, Sam's dick stiffened. Across from him, she giggled. Her gaze drifted downward.

"Very impressive."

Sam wanted to kill her, yes, but he needed to fuck her. His traitorous body lurched toward her.

He bit his lip so hard it drew blood. It was enough to break the spell.

Weapon raised, Sam struck out at the demoness.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she dodged. Another strike, this one closer to her body but still missing by an inch, gave Sam enough momentum to spin and thrust again.

"Fucking Winchesters," the demoness barked, skirting out of the way of Sam's continued attacks. "I'm offering you the best death you could ever hope to have. You get that, right?"

Ignoring her, Sam flipped the blade around his palm and held it backward. He would stab her in the heart, vampire style.

"Hunters all die horrible deaths," she continued, "it's inevitable. But how many can do it while experiencing the most incredible feeling of their lives? None. I could give you that gift if you give yourself to me."

"You think very highly of yourself," Sam replied. He shifted his gaze to where Dean lay, peering into shadow and seeing very little.

Gabriel had some unknown scheme, and Sam hated it, but he did trust the angel to keep Dean alive. The rest, they could figure out later.

"I am the best," she stated. It was an odd tone, both confident and sad. The next time she spoke, her voice held a dark promise.

"When I am finished with you, Samuel, you will accept your death. Just like Castiel has done. Just like Dean will do."

Sam's hand shook from the strength of his grip. "You're wrong."

The demoness smiled. Her eyes flashed dangerous truths. "No," she replied. "I'm not."

The monster's certainty chilled Sam. She spoke as if she had seen the future and had nothing to fear.

Sam raced forward with his arm outstretched, hand and blade raised to chest height. The demoness dodged to the left as predicted. Sam tossed the knife to his left hand and thrust straight down.

Satisfying and horrifying, the sensation of stabbing through flesh reverberated up Sam's arm.

He had done it. The blade had pierced the unguarded space between the succubus's collarbone and shoulder blade. It went straight down in the circle of her rib cage. The demoness gave a tiny gasp and looked at Sam through her lashes. He withdrew the blade to stab again, this time in her side between her ribs.

Her eyes widened. The soft 'o' of surprise that her mouth had slipped into at being stabbed the first time shifted into a tight line of rage the second.

"Fucking Winchesters," she repeated.

Sam didn't have time to be afraid as her hand shot out and gripped him by the neck. The force was crushing. His vision danced with black spots. He kicked out—his feet were off the ground—and she threw him against a wall. He landed on mercifully steady legs but no longer held the angel blade, (it stuck out of her side), and the monster advanced with murder in her eyes.

He was going to die. The succubus didn't want to toy with him. There would be no more offers of fucking him to death. It looked like she wanted to eat him alive starting with his testicles. But all of that was okay because Sam had seen the shadow behind her crouch over Dean, and Sam had seen Dean's body disappear.

He still didn't know what that meant, but he did know that his brother wasn't here. Gabriel had put him somewhere safe. Nothing else mattered.

The demoness reached out with both hands.

A white arrow of light materialized between the two of them, pointing upward.

Puzzled, the she-demon shifted her gaze to the ceiling.

Sam froze, breath held in his chest.

Gabriel appeared in place of the arrow, his back against Sam's front.

A gurgling sound came from the succubus as Gabriel stabbed her heart with the angel blade he had taken from her side.

Hope filled Sam with excitement that sent his heart racing. A faint hum reached his ears, and in the next instant, he realized it was muttered words.

"Go," Gabriel breathed. "Go, go, go, go, go."

The angel used his body to force Sam backward toward the door, all while keeping his eyes on the stunned she-demon and repeating, "Go, go, go, go, go—"

A great, heaving breath came from the succubus. Glowing red pools spilled from her pupils and spread to her irises. Her mouth parted, splitting wide into both sides of her head like a demonic Pez dispenser. She howled, but not in pain. In rage.

"LOKI!" came the cry from her forked tongue. "LOKI!"

Gabriel shoved Sam into the hallway and sprinted ahead, dragging the longer-legged man by his forearm."GO GO GO GO GO!"