Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews, D! I was pretty giddy with happiness after reading them. XD And I'm glad you like my Az. I know he's a baddie and all, but he's the guy you love to hate. He's too badass not to be just...ugh. I mean. Go to Hell, Az. XOXO. XD I digress. I wrote the wrong number. What I was trying to say in my blathering (which happens when I get giddy in my author notes XD) is that this is my version of S7, and I already have plans for a S8 that will be posted as episodes as separate stories (but still the same storyline). Cas/Crowley are in this, obviously, but I'm holding off on their POV until I can watch S6 and see what's happening in S7. Which should be fine, cause I have plenty in store for Winchester&Co. XD Ah. I just sneak-peeked at the Death-ep since I needed to know what went on for the story. It's so emotionally turmoiling. ANYWAY! And Cas' hug attempt on Sam...'Cuz it would be awkward'...XDDD ANYWAY AGAIN! So I added a quote to this one. I thought it was Shakespeare but I guess it's Dean Koontz? Either way, it fit the chapter. XD

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The low rumble of the speakers playing ACDC and the metallic gyrations of the Impala were the only ambience to an otherwise somber car ride. Dean returned sometime in the late hours of the night to a 'sleeping' Sam. Come morning, they'd barely spoken as they made their way in the Impala. The ultimate destination was back to Singer Salvage, but they'd planned to scope out any cases in the meantime.

Sam's gaze was fixed on the rather redundant landscape outside, his mind focused on his last conversation with Azazel, or rather, the freaky figment that he imagined to be Azazel.

It started two days after Purgatory popped, after he had gotten his wall broken. Azazel appeared to him and kept the worst of his demons at bay. But all the while he taunted and prodded at Sam as an invisible spectre, a figment of his mind, apparently. Sam wanted to confide in Dean and knew that he should, but things like that never turned out well. He and Dean had managed some shaky sense of peace and comfort, and he didn't want to damage that by giving Dean a reason to look at him funny. Like he'd used to when he found out about Sam's psychic abilities.

Pain. Torment. Agony. Screams. The flesh tore from his bones and he heard a scream. He would have thought it was his own if he hadn't screamed so hard his throat bled. Was there sound left in him? He couldn't cry anymore. Couldn't breathe. Dean's face no longer appeared in his mind, there was only pain. Only-

A hand slid through Sam's hair and grabbed it roughly as his head was jerked up and a man tsked. "Sammy-boy...there's no point in crying over spilt blood. And torn flesh. And leaking entrails. It's just part of life, you just gotta...go with it.."

Sam's visions of torment faded as he regained cognizance enough to recall that he was free. He was at Singer Salvage, and he'd been supposed to be asleep. "You-"

"Me." Azazel cut him off mockingly.

Sam jerked away and stumbled to his feet. "You're dead." His tone was almost accusatory, but there was a flicker of fear, of doubt.

"Don't worry, you're not in Hell. This isn't an illusion. Well, I might be, but who's counting? You're too crazy to know the difference these days." he chuckled.

"What do you want?"

"Want? What? I can't stop in and see how my favorite boy is doing?" Azazel asked innocently.

Hatred flared in Sam's expression even as his mind raced to attempt to piece together the situation. Azazel couldn't possibly be alive, nor could another demon be possessing the now-rotted corpse-not when it looked unscathed. So was it-

"Slow the gears there, turbo. I'm here because you called me here. You need me, and like a good father, here I am."

"You're not my father." Sam spat.

"Oh? I gave you life-by making sure Daddy dearest lived to see another day...and thus screw your darling mother enough times to get you all cozy inside. Then there was my blood, mother's milk, Sammy-boy. We share blood, and what's thicker than that? I made you stronger, Sammy. That little blonde piece would have ruined you, I saved you from her too. So see? I looked out for you."

Sam wasn't sure what was going on, but he'd heard enough. He charged past Azazel, if he could get the Colt- "Dean! Bobby!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as he headed for the door.

Dean must have been on his way in already, because the names barely left his lips before the door opened to reveal an alert, tensed Dean. "Sam? What's going on?" he barked quickly.

"Dean, it's him! It's-" Sam saw Dean's eyes on him, tense and hesitant, like he was the one with the problem.

There was a hand on his shoulder as Azazel stood beside him and waved a hand in front of Dean's face. "He can't see me. Can't hear me. I exist only for you."

"So you're not real." Sam whispered and Dean's brow furrowed.

"You...alright, Sammy?"

"Look at him, Sammy-boy. He thinks you're crazy. Off the deep end. How long, y'think, before he puts you down?"

"Shut up."

Dean blinked. "Sam?"

"Get him first, why not? Do him and you a favor and put him out of his misery before he puts you out of yours-"

"-I said shut up!" Sam shouted and Dean took a step back.

Azazel simply gave Sam a lazy half-smirk before he disappeared and Sam found himself facing a troubled, uneasy looking Dean.

"Dean...I..." Reality came crashing back around Sam and his brother cut him off as Dean's expression went carefully quiet.

"You're tired, Sammy. Let's get you back to bed." Dean said lowly even as he helped the other to his bed.

The fact that Dean didn't ask about it, seemed to accept it, only made Sam feel worse. Did his brother really think that he'd gone crazy?

And what if he had?

"Sam?"

Sam jolted and looked over to his brother with a start. Dean was looking between Sam and the road with a mixture of what-the-Hell and are-you-okay in his expression. Clearly Dean had said his name more than once, given his tone and expression.

"I'm fine." he replied thickly and he swallowed hard against a faintly metallic taste in his mouth.

Dean was silent for a moment before he spoke. "You were mumbling."

Sam tried not to wince. "More tired than I thought, I guess."

"Right." Dean let the matter drop for the moment, to Sam's relief, but he could tell that his brother was unsettled and Azazel's, or rather, the figment-Azazel's words haunted him. He was still so unsure. Memories of Hell flitted in and out, though he was spared the full brunt of them by Azazel, apparently. Which he didn't understand, but at the moment, he had little choice but to deal with it. Neither possibility that came to mind to explain Azazel was comforting though. Either Azazel was real and floating around somehow, or he was a figment-which meant that Sam had truly gone off the deep end.

Silence seemed prepared to reign supreme in the car again, and while Sam wasn't exactly in a sharing mood, he didn't want an excuse to keep his current thought-train. "So how was she?"

"'Scuse me?"

"How was she? The girl?"

"...Girl?" Dean drew the word out into a drawling question and he lifted a brow at Sam as though he were crazy until realization seemed to dawn on Dean's face before it shuttered. "She was great." he said dismissively. A drop it, or else tone.

"You weren't with a girl last night, were you." It wasn't a question, not really. Sam eyed his older brother as he reviewed the possible reasons for his absence. Part of him instinctively considered that perhaps it was his brother's way of trying to avoid Sam, but that wouldn't make sense...he'd put the amulet back on, and taken care of Sam. He'd saved him.

"Did I say I was with a girl?"

"Yes...?"

"Then I was with a girl." Dean's tone suggested that that was to be the end of the conversation, and Sam might have argued, would have-in the old days. But he was tired, and so was Dean. He could see it in the other's expression, in the faint but weary droop of his eyelids and the grim creases around his lips. They were both suffering, and arguing about little things didn't seem like something they needed right then.

"If you say so." Sam muttered, and Dean cast him a quick, almost puzzled glance like he'd expected an argument before he looked back to the road and at a street marker that read 'Granston, 12 Miles'. Singer Salvage was still a long ways off, and Dean wasn't sure Sam was in a condition to pull a night-shift drive. Dean supposed that he could, but as it was, he was tired as all Hell and the idea of a little break and some food didn't sound half bad. They weren't exactly in a hurry. It wasn't like they had any leads on how to gank 'God'.

"Hey, Samm-shit!"

A flash of a white, a screech of tires, and the scent of burning rubber.

All to avoid one little white rabbit as it scampered across the road. "Dean! What the Hell?"

Dean cursed again as he tried to get his heart rate down at the sudden adrenaline rush. He'd swerved his car on instinct and he was damned lucky he hadn't gone off road. If he'd have hurt his baby... "Rabbit."

"Huh?"

"The rabbit. Ran into the damned road." Dean growled as gazed around irritably, but there was no sign of it now.

"You almost killed us...for a rabbit?" Sam asked slowly, and Dean shot him a withering glare.

"One more word, Sammy. Just one." there was a warning in his tone as he begrudgingly started the car back up to head into town.

Damn rabbit.

...

"Tut, tut. You know the deal...you get off if someone else gets on...so bleed the bitch, or I'm afraid I'll have to put you back."

"No." A hoarse whisper.

A whip was passed into Dean's bloody, trembling hand by Alistair who leaned in close to murmur by Dean's ear. "C'mon, Dean. Make us proud."

Dean's eyes shot open and he found himself staring up at a motel ceiling. A flickering neon light outside fizzled as a large insect slammed against it. In the bed beside his, Sam lay asleep. Memories of the night before, the near miss with the rabbit, and then pulling into town to grab a motel for the night came back to him. It was a dream, it had all been a dream. A bad memory.

Dean's gaze slid to his sleeping brother beside him and he relaxed slightly until he noticed Sam's hand clenched around a fistful of blanket, his breathing heavy. A nightmare? "Sammy?" Dean's voice sounded gruff to his own ears and he shook his head as he lumbered to his feet and headed to Sam's bed. "Sammy, wake up." he shook the other lightly. Dean knew from personal experience that a little less sleep was better than rolling around in a nightmare.

"Nnn...Dean...it hurts..." Sam whimpered and Dean was alert in an instant as he scanned the other quickly.

"Sam? What's wrong?" The other had to be awake, but why was he in pain? Sam clenched up a bit and then moaned.

"It's hurting, Dean...make it stop...please...Dean!"

"Sam! Hey! Sammy!" Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders and hauled him up into a sitting position. "Sammy, look at me. Hey!" he shook the other a bit and blood began to drip from Sam's lips as a few tears fell from his eyes. Dark, red tears.

"Sammy." a horrified whisper.

Sam's eyes slowly opened, pained and blood-shot as Sam's hands suddenly lifted to clench Dean's shoulders painfully. "Why didn't you save me, Dean? Why'd you leave me down there? You let me go to Hell!"

"No...No, Sammy..." Dean's voice was weak. "I didn't...I never wanted-"

"You left me there...with them...the things they did...they tore me apart piece by piece and you let them." Sam accused.

Dean swallowed hard. "Sammy-"

"Don't 'Sammy' me." Sam's voice suddenly turned hard. "It's your fault, Dean. Your fault I died and went to Hell. Your fault Jess died, you took me away from her...your fault I became this!" Sam shouted as his eyes flashed yellow and he suddenly plunged a dagger deep into Dean's throat. It didn't occur to him to wonder where the dagger came from, he was a bit busy choking on his own blood as Sam gazed down at him coldly, those familiar, yellow-eyes mocking and cruel.

"You're the monster here, Dean. You made me this way."

"Dean...Dean!"

Dean was startled awake but he wasn't aware as he jerked away from the hands shaking him. His hand flew to his throat and he found it fine, no knife. Sam stood above him, looking down at him with concern and Dean stared up at him. But there were no yellow eyes, just Sam's, worried and confused as he gazed back down at his big brother. "Dean?" it was softer now, tentative like one might speak to a wounded animal.

"Sammy." Dean croaked and he swallowed hard to clear his throat as he let his gaze fall on the room, lit by a dim light beside the bed. The motel. He was in the motel. It had been a dream, just a dream.

There was a hand on his shoulder and he could feel the warmth of that hand as it squeezed. "Dean...you alright?"

Dean swallowed hard again before he lifted his gaze to...Sammy. Just Sammy. Not soulless, or yellow-eyed, or hopped up on demon blood. Just his brother. "M'fine." the word sounded less reassuring than he intended and he shrugged Sam's hand off. Sam had enough to worry about without fussing over him. "Relax, dude. Just a wet dream gone wrong." Dean dismissed it.

Sam frowned. There Dean went, lying again. And this after having lectured Sam on not lying, on how keeping secrets between brothers was a bad thing. He got that Dean was probably trying to protect him and do the whole 'tough guy' slash 'big brother' bit, but why couldn't he seem to understand that being brothers was a two-way street? It was his job to look after Dean as much as it was Dean's to look after him. Dean had been convulsing in bed, shouting his name and repeating 'no'. Was it a dream about Sam being soulless? Was that what was plaguing him?

"Quit lookin' at me like that." Dean growled as ran a hand through his hair and Sam noted something.

A hand snaked out and caught Dean's wrist as he turned it over and frowned. Half-moon crescents like nails were imprinted lightly into Dean's skin, as well as faint burn-marks like hand indents. "What is this?"

Dean's hand was pulled back and shoved by his side. "Who knows? Probably got it when I wrestling that Amex or whatever Hell he was called."

"Ammut. I didn't see him grab you."

"Yeah, well, what else would it be?" Dean challenged.

"You tell me." Sam returned and Dean's green eyes were steely and irritated as he pulled away. Sam scowled faintly before he grabbed Dean's shoulder and forced the other to face him again. "What's going on with you? You spent the first few days walking on eggshells around me, and now all of the sudden, literally, you're...lying and pushing me away? I don't get it, Dean."

There it was, the familiar clench of Dean's jaw, the uncomfortable shift, the faintly annoyed look. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. Then tell me where you went last night. Why there's a hand print burned in your arm. And why you were shouting my name in your 'wet dream'."

Dean flushed faintly at that before he rose and glared up at his little brother. "Drop it, Sam." he growled.

Sam didn't like to pull the intimidation card, (not that it worked right on Dean anyway), but he did stretch himself to his full height and gaze down at Dean, nonplussed. "Then tell me."

"Screw you." Dean tried to move past him and Sam blocked his way. "Sam, I will deck you. Get outta my way."

"Then do it, Dean. If it'll make you feel better, go ahead." Sam held out his arms in a gesture of defenselessness that only agitated Dean further.

Dean and Sam stared each other down for a moment before Dean turned away and seemed content to ignore the situation.

"What did I tell you, Sammy-boy? Dean doesn't trust you. He thinks you're playing with a half-deck." Azazel taunted and he clucked his tongue as Sam shot him a venemous look before he turned his gaze back onto his brother.

"Dean..." he tried a softer approach. "Please. Look, man...You want me to be straight with you, that goes both ways. I need my brother."

Dean stiffened before slowly he tilted his gaze back to Sam and stared hard at his younger brother a moment. Finally, he inclined his head slightly. "I went to see a woman last night."

"Dean-" Sam started, disappointed that his brother was going to keep that up.

"-Shut up, Sam." Dean interrupted before he continued. "I met her while I was hunting for the next piece of croc-bait. The man that thing killed was her fiance. I figured they lived together so I went to the address on the I.D. I didn't talk to her. Came back to the motel. End of story." He didn't bother explaining about the flowers and the scrawled note. That was private business.

Sam's expression softened. "Dean..."

"Dude. I don't wanna talk about it, which is kinda why I didn't tell you to begin with. Not everything needs to be on Oprah." Dean said gruffly.

Well, that made him feel a bit guilty about pushing Dean. But what else was he supposed to do? "And the marks? The dream?"

"...Hell." And Sam knew from that one word he meant the dream. "And that's all I'm gonna say, damnit, so quit asking. So next time I say 'drop it', here's a clue, drop it."

Sam didn't like that he still hadn't really gotten an answer. It wasn't even the wound so much that concerned him as Dean's unwillingness to talk about it. He'd gotten a little something out of the other though, typical Dean tough-guy crap that enticed him to cover up something as simple as checking on a...victim, of sorts.

"Get dressed. It's almost seven, something'll be open. I want pancakes." Dean said decidedly, and suddenly, as he began changing his clothes. Sam hadn't even realized that he'd been playing space cadet until he'd snapped back.

"Pancakes?" It was so out of the blue that Sam had to be a little taken aback.

"Uh, yeah? What, you got somethin' against pancakes now?" Dean gave Sam a hard look.

Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or to call his brother an idiot, but he was relieved. Dean's nonchalant, more charismatic behavior was something akin to an apology and a 'let's move on'. He'd been worried that Dean might spend the rest of the day sulking. "Nothing at all. Pancakes it is."

Dean flashed him a faint look of triumph, like getting Sam to agree to pancakes was some victory on Dean's part, and there was a little flourish in his step as he murmured some rock song or another and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Pancakes? Is this how 'heroes' spend their freetime? Munching pancakes and arguing about who's got the nastier 'wet dream'?" Azazel drawled.

"Be quiet." Sam hissed under his breath, his lighter mood ruined by the presence of the dem-figment. He was losing his mind, surely, despite all of his rational explanations to explain the figment of Azazel, he was on a decline and he knew it. The sane thing would be to banish the figment, but if did that-all of those memories would come rushing back and then...then he wasn't sure that he could take it. For now, until he could find a way to banish the illusion and hold his mind together, he had to put up with it. Because the alternative...hurting Dean...that was too much more to bear.

...

"I'll have a stack of pancakes, bacon, and a piece of 'razzleberry' pie." Dean ordered as he flashed a casual smile at their waitress who promtply turned her attention to Sam. She collected his order without a second glance at Dean as she left, much to his amusement and Dean's chagrin.

"What the Hell is a razzleberry anyway?" Dean asked as he frowned slightly.

"It's a mixture of berries...why did you order it if you didn't know what it was?"

"Dude. It's pie. You have to ask?"

Sam lifted a brow but chose not to comment, meanwhile, Dean began examining the paper he'd swiped from the front when he he noted an insert that had fallen out.

"Lessee...missing girl, Alice Townsend, age eleven...missing..." he trailed off before he passed the paper to Sam with a grim expression.

Sam examined it and then shared his brother's look. "Missing the night Purgatory popped."

The girl in the picture seemed slight for her age, with soulful blue eyes and a mess of straight black hair.

"She went missing here in town...our next case?"

Dean didn't seem exactly eager to jump on that bandwagon, but he nodded slightly anyway. "Why not? Might as well."

Sam eyed his brother. "You don't want to?"

Dean was silent a moment before he shrugged. "What do you think our chances of finding her alive are?" When Sam didn't respond, he smiled grimly. "S'what I thought."

Sam understood his brother's attitude then, and fell silent as he looked back down at the ad. She was likely dead, and if they did find her...it wasn't going to be a happy ending, that was for sure. But if her death was related to Purgatory's opening...well, it was still worth looking into.

"Son of a bitch."

"Dean?" Sam noticed that Dean's gaze was fixed on the window, or rather, on what was beyond it.

"It's her...dude, it's the girl!" Dean slid out from the table and darted out of the diner.

"Wait, what? Dean!" Sam cursed and then followed after his brother. He didn't bother with apologies to the servers, it wasn't like they'd eaten and run anyway.

Across the street from the diner was a large patch of forest-land, and it was there that Dean chased the girl. He'd seen her staring at him and then she'd started to run, hence his giving chase. "Hey! Alice!" he called after her. No way he'd made a mistake.

Sam pounded rubber against dirt as he chased after his brother and finally caught a glimpse of the black-haired girl who they were to be chasing. She was alive then? Or was she- "Dean, wait!" but Dean, whether he heard Sam or not, continued to run. They'd just been discussing the missing girl, and all of the sudden she showed up and ran from them? Some might call it coincidence, but Sam knew better.

It was never coincidence.

Dean rushed into a clearing of the woods with a small lake where he'd seen her go, but it just figured, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Damnit." he muttered.

"Dean!" Sam joined the other and took a glance around. "She's gone?"

"Looks like." Dean exhaled heavily. "You saw her too, right?"

"Yup. But I'm not sure she's-"

"-Alive? Yeah, I kinda got that vibe too."

"So a ghost, maybe?"

"Could be. Or something disguising itself as her."

"Or it could be none of the above. Not that it is my concern." a voice remarked casually.

Dean froze, and by his side, Sam stiffened. He knew that voice, and he knew that if he was hearing it...he probably wasn't going to like what it had to say. Dean turned to face the new arrival. "Gotta say, wasn't expecting you."

"Despite the fact that I am the most inevitable constant, you'd be surprised how many people say that. Particularly those for whom the fault in their sudden death lies." Death, in all of his regal if elderly glory, stood before them.

The Hell...? Death. One of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Tessa's boss. The sneaky bastard who'd told them to 'keep digging' and brought back Sam's broken soul.

Yeah. No such thing as damned coincidence.

"Right. Well Sam and I aren't dead yet, last I checked, and I don't think you dropped in to say 'hi', so what do you want?"

Death's eyes narrowed slightly. "Shall we discuss manners again, Dean?"

Dean's jaw clenched slightly but he eased up a bit. He knew he couldn't take Death on, and he didn't want Sam caught in any crossfire. If Death wanted to talk, he didn't have much choice but to sit back and listen.

Death seemed to approve of his silence and continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"Say what now?" The surprise in Dean's voice was obvious and Death gave him a long-suffering look.

"A proposition. It means I've come to offer you a deal."

"Yeah, I got that part. So again. Say what now?"

"Dean." Sam's voice was a low warning as he watched Death and felt an unfamiliar anxiety rise inside of him. The other had replaced his soul, something that he was glad of now, but the other still terrified him. More than just what he represented, it was who he was...Death emanated a chill that sent shivers down his spine, and he was honestly surprised that his brother seemed so well able to tolerate it. But then, his brother had a knack for exceeding expectations in the strangest ways, as others had noted.

Death tilted his gaze towards Sam and a flicker of a faintly mocking smile curved his lips. "Your brother has more wisdom than you where I'm concerned."

"Wisdom's never really been my thing. I'm more of a wing-it kind of guy."

Death gave no indication that he'd heard other than a faint, unamused glance at Dean before he spoke again. "I have something you want, and would be willing to part with in exchange for your assistance."

"Okay, I'll bite...what is it you have that I'd want?"

Death's smile was mirthless, and chilling. "A way to save Castiel."

Dean and Sam both fell silent before Dean found his voice to speak again. "Come again?"

Death lifted a light brow, unimpressed, apparently. "I assume that you don't wish to kill the angel, and frankly, his assistance in keeping you alive and hard at work is convenient. His current...state of being, however, is not. In exchange for your assistance in ending his so-called 'god-hood' and that wretched Crowley's 'reign', and returning the souls to Purgatory, I will give you the means to keep him alive. Are you with me so far?"

Sam didn't really key into the part about keeping them alive. "We're useful to you, so you'll keep him alive...for us?"

"Not for you." Death corrected him. "You're occasionally useful to me, so I'll keep him alive, to ensure that I don't have to continually be cleaning up your self-sacrificing messes. As Dean well knows, messes in relation to death can be..."

"Hell." Dean finished grimly.

"Not the word I would have used, but strangely appropriate." Death conceded.

Sam looked between the two and was certain that he was missing something. But now was not the time to ask about it.

"Alright, shoot. What's the deal? How do we defuse a god-nuke? And how does Crowley being in charge piss you off anyway?"

Death gave him a dry look. "That is not your concern. As for...defusing Castiel, you'll require assistance and a few...things. The assistance comes first. You'll need a pair of them, for starters, an angel, and a demon."

Dean's expression flat-lined as Sam's began to look agitated. "Whoa. Back up. You want us to partner up with...not one, but two assholes? How does this help us?"

Death's faintly narrow-eyed look effectively cowed Dean and he gave a similar look to Sam before he spoke. "You'll get more information in time. For now, it is enough to know that they are necessary to save Castiel's life as well as divert the souls back into Purgatory...Crowley is more easily dealt with. You will need to recruit the pair."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean said begrudgingly. "Fine. Let's say we're going with this, where are these guys?"

"The demon is in Heaven. The angel is in Hell."

Dean and Sam simply stared before Dean took a few steps forward, his jaw clenched as he addressed Death. "How the Hell does that work? And when you say 'recruit', you mean we gotta go get these bastards?"

Death's expression soured but he didn't have to move so much as a finger before Dean got a confused look on his face and then collapsed to his knees, making the expression of trying to breathe and finding it futile.

"Dean!" Sam knelt down by his brother and it didn't take a genius to figure out that Death was causing him to asphixiate somehow. "Stop! Please! Please!" Sam addressed Death with a 'please', the guy seemed to like manners after all and he wasn't sure if Death honestly intended to kill him or not.

Death's expression relaxed from faintly sour to blank and he didn't move as Dean suddenly gasped in air and Sam pulled his heavily breathing big brother to his feet.

"I trust I have made my point?"

Dean's gaze spoke volumes of his dislike of Death, but there was a new caution there as he nodded slowly. Don't mouth off to Death. Check.

Death seemed approving again. "There is an item in Heaven that one of you would need to retrieve, it contains within it a very powerful, very...unusual demon. In Hell, in a very modest version of the Hell Cage, there is an imprisoned angel of similar qualifications. One of you would need to venture into Hell to retrieve him."

Dean's and Sam's eyes widened at that little revelation. "You want one of us...to go downstairs?"

"I believe that is what I said."

Heaven was one thing. It was crazy, but it was one thing. But Hell?

"There's gotta be another way." Dean's breathing had mostly righted itself and he shrugged away Sam's grip as he stood on his own.

"There is." Death said simply and Dean's continue expression seemed to amuse Death faintly, and he clearly took some small satisfaction in being able to reply. Death slipped something from his jacket, a small reaver scythe which he held out to Dean. "This is the other way."

Dean stiffened as he stared down at the scythe before his gaze slid back up to Death who accordingly sheathed the weapon, knowing full well that neither Dean nor Sam would take it. "No."

"Then you'll recruit the others?"

"I'm not going back to Hell. Neither is Sam. And no one is killing Cas. We'll find another way."

Death didn't seem surprised, but nor was he pleased. "I don't make the same offer twice. Think hard before you turn it down over something as trivial as-"

"-Trivial as what? Hell? 'Cuz that's a pretty damned big deal to me." Dean snapped before he fell silent as Death frowned. "Look. I, uh, appreciate the offer. But it's no deal. Sorry."

"I have seen the beginning, and I will see the end long past it's conclusion. I have no reason to lie, and I know the possibilities. What I offer is your only option for saving Castiel, I can guarantee that. Even so, you'll still turn it down?"

Dean hesitated, and at his side, he could practically feel Sam's similar hesitation. But there was no way he was letting Sam revisit Hell, and no way that he would either. If Death wasn't gonna yank them out, then going down would be literally going down and he couldn't...there was no way. He and his brother had had enough from Hell. "Me and Sam have pulled off the impossible before. I think we'll take our chances."

Death pursed his lips but faintly inclined his head. "Remember, Dean. I don't make the same offer twice." He withdrew his Horsemen's ring from his pocket and slipped it on, and disappeared.

Sam looked around as if he might find Death still lurking about, but Dean simply stared hard at the spot he'd disappeared in. There was an uneasy feeling in his gut and he wondered briefly if he'd spoken too soon. But how could he have said 'yes'? Heaven was one thing, he'd broken in before, sort of. But Hell?

"You really think there's another way? If Death himself said there isn't?"

"There's gotta be, Sam." Dean had to believe that.

"...I know you don't like it, Dean...but if it could stop everything...I could-"

"No." Dean whirled around, his expression furious as he stalked toe-to-toe with his brother and glared up at him. "Say one more word, just one, and I will kick your ass." he growled. "You came out of Hell in pieces, Sam, you're still not all there and-" he trailed off as he saw Sam flinch and realized what he'd said. Dean's expression relaxed slightly, and he clenched his jaw in agitation. "Neither of us is going back. You got that?"

Sam was silent and he prodded. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"From the mouth of babes. 'Not all there'. Not that I'm an expert, but isn't that kind of Dean's way of saying you're an unreliable basket-case?" Azazel mused, having appeared by Sam's shoulder.

Heedless of the devil whispering into Sam's ear, so to speak, Dean felt the need to add a little something. "Look...Sammy...I'm counting on you, man. We'll get through this, but we gotta be in on it together. And I get it, Hell's not something you just...get over."

"That's not what you said when you got out." Sam said, a bit quietly.

Dean wasn't sure if he'd hurt Sam's feelings, or just disappointed him, but he didn't like it either way. He didn't like the situation and he was still pissed the Hell off. And he didn't like having to offer up emotional crap, especially at a time like this. But Sam...he'd spent a century in Hell, and for what? To save the damned world? To come back and be tortured and told to go back to save the world again? Dean's protective hackles were proverbially raised and he wanted to erase it all from Sam. The nightmares, the pain, the memories...but he couldn't. So the least he could do was not be an ass, sometimes, right?

Dean sighed to himself as he slipped a hand onto Sam's shoulder and his brother regarded him with silent, faint surprise as Dean squeezed his shoulder. "I need my brother too, Sammy. Okay?"

Those little words were all it took. Genuine surprise flickered into Sam's expression as he stared down at Dean. Just a few words, but rife with meaning and the fact that Dean had bothered to say them. If not for the fact that Dean was watching, he might have been tempted to shoot a triumphant expression at that prick-figment. He was wrong. Dean trusted him, Dean might not have thought that Sam was alright-but not because he was crazy. It was because he'd been to Hell too and he knew what it did to a person. It was because Dean gave a damn even if no one else did. Them against the world.

A ghost of a smile curved Sam's lips as he nodded. These days, getting Dean to so much as admit he was sick was a hurdle, so for him to offer up a bit of 'chick-flick moment' spoke volumes. From Dean, that was a pure expression of love from his big brother. He didn't need to hear the exact words, he knew what Dean meant. And Sam knew his brother knew the same. "Okay. We'll find a way." An agreement, a simply spoken pact between the Winchester brothers, a mantra against everything else.

"Damn straight." Dean agreed with a faint smile of his own as he released his brother's shoulder and turned away. And only then did he let the smile fade and the grim doubt enter his eyes.

Death himself had declared it impossible, and honestly, Dean had no idea how he could possibly prove him wrong.

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"And why you were shouting my name in your 'wet dream'." I'm sorry, but I have to give myself props for the unintentional setup that allowed me to say that line. XD Oh Sam, being too clever and Dean, being...Dean. XD I laughed. And the little pie scene. XD I digress! I have the day off today and the S6 DVD! Anyone wanna guess how I'm spending my day? XD *excitement* Hey, you people reading, just saying...If you wanna click that button and leave me some review action and such, it would totally make my existence bright and happy and I know that being such nice people...XD I don't normally ASK for reviews (hint sometimes XD), but I'm concerned by the lack of them for this story. It makes me nervous. ;-; XD But you don't have to. Just keep reading. I can make myself happy watching the visitor count go up. XD By the by, I was tempted to stop the story at 'A way to save Castiel', nice dramatic little ending. But-the next two chapters are the Wonderland chapters, so I had to squeeze everything into this one chapter. XD And some faint brotherly fluff at the end to ease the angst and pain. XD