Disclaimer: I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

Author's Note: Alright, so I'm gonna be completely honest with you all here – most of the time when I start a story, I get so caught up in the thrill of the introduction that I don't actually take the time to create the rest of the plot. Terrible fault, I know. At any rate, that happened with this story. After the first two or three chapters I just dreaded to update cause I didn't know where to take it.

But alas, fear not! I've rekindled my love for this story and now know exactly where the road leads. Just thought I'd get that off my chest and reassure you that this is not going to be left sitting dusty anytime soon haha. Without any more of my rambling, please enjoy!!

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Chapter Eight

Dean visibly trembled, his eyes scattering frantically around the room as he looked over each and every demon. They all stood in that same posture, proud and semi-slouched, staring him down viciously. The hunter swallowed hard, feeling like he was now naked in the middle of a huge crowd – he may as well have been. At last Dean directed his hazel eyes back towards Flauros, who was just bubbling with excitement over his apparent bewilderment.

"Flaura, who are all these demons?" he spat, his voice coming out a lot more needy than he would've preferred.

"Well," Flaura sighed, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "I could take the time to name each one of them, but I highly doubt you'd remember. You always did make it a habit to forget."

Dean's upper lip quivered as he bit back a vicious reply – the last thing he wanted to do was make a remark that would insult each and every thirty-so demons that crowded around him. Gritting his teeth me muttered, "Tell me just what the Hell is going on." He glared daggers at Flaura, feeling heat beginning to radiate to his cheeks.

"Oh feisty, I like that," Flaura laughed obnoxiously, "but see, if I told you than all the fun would be over. And we don't want that, now do we?" As she spoke, her human eyes disappeared as vicious black poured over them like spilt ink.

Dean could feel his anger rising even further at her lack of information – Keep it cool, he thought to himself, exhaling wearily. "Oh, believe me, I'm laughing inside," he retorted sarcastically, "Can't you just give me a hint or something?"

Flaura stared him down for a moment. Even though Dean couldn't actually see where she was looking, he could tell that she was intently focused on him – debating, which was of course a good thing. She spoke at last, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Fine, I'll let you in on a secret. How does that sound?" Dean nodded silently leaning in closer to Flaura as he directed him with a single slender finger. The demon bent her head close to the hunter's ear whispering ever quietly, "We're throwing a dinner party, and you're the main course there, Dean."

Dean's brow creased in further confusion. "What does–,"

"Not so fast, I don't mean literally of course," Flaura snickered devilishly, placing his earlobe between her teeth and biting down hard.

Dean felt a stinging pain surge through him. It wasn't immense, but it did hurt quite a bit. "Agh, you son of a bitch," he growled under his breath.

Flaura pulled away, lifting a hand to wipe away the tiny smear of blood which had collected on her bottom lip. "Funny," she muttered, licking the irony liquid from her fingertips, "I was going to say the same thing about you."

Dean's jaw tightened automatically – he didn't have a problem with demon's calling him names, he could live with that, but when the slumped to dissing his family then there was a problem. He was just about to cough up some smartass reply, when Aamon decided to step in. "I hate to interrupt this little gag fest," he cleared his throat, "but I think we ought to give the boy some rest – don't want him all worn out before his time comes."

Flaura obeyed and took a step back to rejoin the others, that sickening grin still plastered across her face. "If you think for a second I'm gonna sleep, well you better think again there pal," Dean mumbled, now directing his gaze at Aamon who stepped forth.

"Oh, I actually I count on it," Aamon retorted smugly. With that, he raised a fist high into the air, before smashing it down into Dean's face with impeccable force. In an instant all went black and Dean was out.

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Sam's eyelids flickered open slowly, the world coming back to him is one rushing flurry. He blinked a few more times, his vision changing from a splotchy blur to crystal clarity. Raising his body from the mattress upon which he lay, he grunted in slight pain. He lifted a hand to feel the back of his head, a large egg-like lump throbbing there.

"My apologies," Balthial smiled sheepishly, coming into Sam's view.

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, eyeing the man before him suspiciously. He had absolutely no clue who this guy was. "Sorry uh, do I know you?" he asked, sliding his legs off the bed and placing them firmly onto the floor below.

"You may call me Balthial," the angel replied, taking a step forward, "We met earlier, but our confrontation was, how should I say, heated."

Sam's eyes widened as realization finally dawned on him. "You're an angel, aren't you?" he asked, almost groaning as he spoke.

"Indeed I am," Balthial said, ignoring the irritated edge to the young hunter's voice, "You punched me in the face. I felt nothing, but your hand should regain its throbbing right about now I believe." Almost instantly Sam felt an almost overwhelming pain spike in his fist. He gasped slightly, clutching his close to his chest, cradling it similarly to an infant. The hunter went to take a step forward, stumbling somewhat as his legs still felt unsteady. "Careful, we don't want you falling again," Balthial mumbled gently, immediately at Sam's side.

Balthial led Sam over to the nearby table, his hand placed firmly aside his ribs for support. Slipping the hunter into one of the seats, he then took a seat beside Sam clasping his hands lightly upon its top. "Thanks," Sam murmured, looking Balthial over almost suspiciously.

Balthial nodded silently, acknowledging Sam's appreciation. "Robert went to collect an assortment of provisions for me. He should be returning shortly," he stated, as if reading Sam's mind as the hunter glanced around the fairly empty motel room.

"Oh," Sam replied in a hushed tone, "What do you need?"

"Salt, rosemary, white vinegar, and a pinch of black pepper – but only a minuscule amount, we don't its darkness to overpower the otherwise pleasant effects of this ritual."

"And what is it you plan to conduct exactly?" Sam frowned, slightly perplexed. He'd never heard of such common ingredients used to perform an angel ritual.

Balthial smiled faintly to himself. "It's of my own concoction, I believe it may help in locating your brother," he cleared his throat in response.

Sam's eyes widened, now really and truly interested in what this angel had to say. "You know about Dean?" he asked breathlessly.

"But of course," Balthial responded simply, not quite understanding Sam's astonishment.

"So why haven't the angels pitched in to help through any of this?" Sam snorted somewhat, shrugging his shoulders.

Balthial licked his lips delicately, "Last I recall you and your brother weren't exactly willing to help the heavenly host. You do remember Castiel concealing you with your rib carvings?"

Sam sighed, he honestly hadn't taken all that into consideration. "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his eyes apologetically.

"Do not take it to heart," Balthial replied, "If it is any consolation, I'm here to help you now, which increases the chance that you will find your brother."

"The demons took him," Sam said.

Balthial nodded, "I am aware."

"Do you have any idea what they want with him?" Sam asked, leaning in a bit closer to the angel.

"I do not, unfortunately. Though I don't believe killing Dean is on their agenda if it brings you comfort," Balthial answered, catching Sam's gaze.

The two just sat there in silence for a moment, staring at one another ever longingly. Sam watched how the rich chocolate and mahogany of the angel's irises seemed to swirl together in a luscious embrace, realizing that there was definitely something he liked about Balthial. So far, with the exception of Cas, Sam's opinion of angels had been pretty low especially with their tactics, so on and so forth. But Balthial, he was kind – comforting. It seemed that even if dooms day was going down, he still would find a light at the end of the tunnel. Optimism, that's what Sam liked. It reminded him so much of himself, how he used to be…

"There is hope, Sam," Balthial whispered, his gentle voice allowing reality to reclaim the hunter once more.

Sam blinked vigorously, now realized that he and Balthial were only inches from each other – he could feel the angel's breath lightly against his face, and it sent shivers down his spine. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when just then the door opened. Bobby came rolling in swiftly, baring a large paper sack upon his lap. Immediately hunter and angel sprung away from each other, making for the door to help Bobby.

"Did you get all of my requirements?" Balthial asked anxiously.

Bobby glared at him somewhat – he'd just spent the last hour or so looking for the very specific requirements Balthial had asked for. Damn angel, Bobby thought miserably to himself. "Yeah, yeah, I got'em. Now get outta my face boy," he muttered, swatting both Sam and Balthial away from him.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he overlooked the ingredients. "So how exactly does this work?" he asked, puzzled as Balthial began to examine the articles carefully.

Balthial had crouched down, lifting the dried rosemary herbs to his nose in which to smell. "Using a specific combination of Latin and Enochian, a large sigil must be drawn," he explained standing back up, "Larger than anything you're likely to have seen before. It requires one further ingredient."

"But I just ran out and got all you're damn knickknacks!" Bobby retorted, feeling frustration bubble up towards the angel.

"I realize, and I appreciate your help Robert," Balthial smiled sheepishly, glancing downward at the hunter, "but there is one material I did not ask you to collect on purpose. I must go by special means to get it."

With that the angel swiftly glided over towards the door, slipping out a thin silver knife in which he tried to keep concealed. Never the less, Sam had caught a glimpse of the blade and this made him gravely concerned. "Wait!" he called after Balthial, "Let me go with you."

"No Sam, I'd prefer it if you didn't," Balthial replied simply, not turning to face the hunter with his hand still clutching the door knob.

Sam swallowed hard, feeling panic begin to churn in the pit of his stomach. "Please, what are you going to do?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Balthial sighed wearily, "I shall return shortly." And then, much to Sam's surprise, the angel was gone in a whoosh of feathers. Way to make a speedy exit…

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Dean's eyes flickered open slowly, the spinning world finally coming to an abrupt halt. He took a deep breath, coughing almost instantly as the cold air entered his lungs. This wasn't right, the air in the warehouse had been fairly warm. Sitting up, Dean realized that he was no longer chained to a steel table, but lying on moist grass – in a forest. His brow creased in confusion as he stood up, overlooking his surroundings. An assortment of tall pine and other evergreen trees towered above him, shading his gaze of the presumably starlit sky. Surrounding the hunter there appeared to be no sense of direction what so ever, it was all the same scene. Except in front of him – there lay a thin dirt trail which led to what looked like a clearing.

Dean shivered slightly, the chilly night air really beginning to take a toll on him. That's when Dean realized it – he'd been stripped of his heavy jacket and his t-shirt, leaving him only in a bare chest and jeans. Fan-freaking-tastic! Dean thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest miserably.

Huffing and puffing from the ever persistent cold, Dean kept strictly along the path hoping it would lead him to some kind of civilization. A paved road at the very least, that's all he was praying for. Suddenly, he jerked his head, hearing a loud snapping of branches to his right. There came a flutter of wings from escaping birds as the flew into the twilight. Dean swallowed hard, seeing a shadow move amidst the woodland. There came another unexpected pop from behind him, and so the hunter turned feeling frantic like a caged animal. He wasn't about to get cornered though – bolting forward, Dean jogged along the narrow path, keeping his eyes fixated on the ground. Someone always trips, Dean thought to himself, thinking back to the countless horror movies he'd seen with similar scenarios. Someone was always running and somehow always managed to fall. Always.

Lifting his eyes above, Dean stopped abruptly, feeling his heart threaten to burst right out of his chest. He panted wildly as he caught his balance, just in time to keep from falling off the edge of what was apparently a cliff. Where had the ledge even come from?! Before him, a misty fog clung over what lay below the jagged rocks, which was presumably water. Feeling a bit more stable now, Dean leaned forward just an inch or so to see how far he would've fallen. He whistled lightly, seeing as it was a good twenty or thirty foot drop to the next ledge. He felt undeniably grateful, but suddenly something caught his eye.

Dean crouched down close to the ground, to get a better look at what was linger on the cliff. Not what, but who – it was a person. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to identify them. Dean's eyes widened, his heart stopping cold. It was Castiel – Dean was sure of it, seeing the angelic innocence glowing in his ocean blue eyes. The sparkled glossily as the angel gazed up at Dean, an unsatisfied frown upon his lips. Castiel mouthed something silently, but Dean couldn't quite make out just what he had said.

"Cas! Cas, stay there! I'm gonna get to you!!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs – but no sound came out. All he could hear was the now ever present sound of crashing waves below. As if he'd heard nothing, Castiel turned away from Dean to face the edge upon which he stood. "Cas, no! Cas! Cas!" Dean hollered desperately, looking around for any way to get down there. To no avail, no entry was provided. Dean watched in unbearable horror as Castiel stretched his arms out to either side of his body, allowing his body to fall forward into the misty abyss.

Feeling every muscle in his body jolt, Dean's eyes flew open, shivers flying down his spine. He blinked vigorously, trying to regain his eyesight seeing as the bright light above him had just blinded him. He panted, feeling nerves still twisting and wrenching in the pit of his stomach. Grunting somewhat, Dean tried to stretch, finding his arms and legs still secured tightly in place.

"What were you dreaming about there, Dean?" Gaap asked casually, picking at his fingernails.

"What?" Dean gasped, jolting his head around frantically, still lost in utter confusion.

Gaap sighed, leaning forward on the tiny fold out chair in which he sat upon. "Was it Hell?"

Dean's face fell, feeling suddenly irritated at the demon's presence. "What's it to you?" he snapped, glaring viciously at Gaap.

"Ouch," Gaap said sarcastically, "PMS much?"

Dean said nothing in response, remaining silent for a moment longer as to allow his anger time to cool off. "So where'd the other lugnuts scamper off to?" he mumbled, looking around to find the warehouse empty once more.

"Oh, they're in the next room, but don't worry they'll be back soon," Gaap beamed widely.

Dean cleared his throat, redirecting his view up towards the ceiling. He muttered, "Fantastic."

Gaap continued on his cynical stroll, "I know, isn't it? Not much longer now." With that, he sighed contently, cracking the tab on his beer can.

"Not much longer 'til what?" Dean asked, swinging his head around to face the demon once more.

"See Dean, that's one reason why I chose such a wonderful host," Gaap chuckled somewhat, glancing over Castiel's body before sipping a bit from his can, "I like you. Or, should I say your naivety, more or less."

"Ah, screw you," Dean growled somewhat, yanking slightly at the restraints which held his wrists. He certain was not pleased with Gaap's lack or response to his questions.

"Well, if you insist," Gaap retorted smugly, placing his beer can lightly onto the concrete floor below. On that note, he strode purposefully over to the table upon which Dean lay, hopping up, and spreading over the hunter. Dean's body instinctively jolted, his breath increasing swiftly causing his chest to bob up and down. "Now if you would've just been able to convince your angelic fuck buddy in here to go with the flow back at the motel room, truth be told you wouldn't be in this mess right now, Dean," Gaap leaned in closer to Dean's face, whispering in a hushed tone.

"What?" Dean spat, surprised at how quiet his own voice was coming out, "What are you even talking about?"

The demon sighed, flicking his eyes to black as he examined Dean lustfully. "Dean, Dean, Dean," he murmured, lifting up the hem of the hunter's shirt to playfully stroke the soft skin of Dean's stomach, "It didn't have to be like this. If Castiel would've just consented you wouldn't be here, strapped to a table." Gaap chuckled somewhat as he spoke.

Dean wriggled uncomfortably beneath Gaap's body, feeling oddly turned on by the way the demon caressed him so tenderly. "I wouldn't?" Dean asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. The last thing he wanted was to fall into an awkward silence which could lead to other things – many other things.

"Okay, I lie," Gaap confessed, sighing wistfully, "You'd still be here, but in better circumstances. See Dean, nothing just happens anymore. It's all, how should I say, part of a bigger picture."

"Now you're just sounding like Cas," Dean muttered, exhaling deeply as Gaap began to licentiously run his hands over the hunter once more.

"And is that necessarily a bad thing?" Gaap snickered somewhat, arching an eyebrow suggestively, "I mean, can you picture it Dean? Angel and demon combined – sounds a bit kinky, don't ya think?"

Dean's brow furrowed in almost disgusted confusion. He responded hesitantly, "I honestly never gave it much thought."

Just when Dean thought Gaap's smile couldn't get any wider, guess what? It did! The demon leaned in so close to Dean, that the hunter could feel his steaming breath against his ear. Gaap whispered, seduction thick to his tone, "Oh but I have. And believe me, Castiel has too. But you know, I just wish he'd shut up for one stickin' second. Freaking angel, he drives me insane!"

Dean jolted somewhat at Gaap's sudden outburst close to his ear. Shaking it off, he continued asking, "Cas talks to you?"

"Oh yeah, twenty-four fucking seven!" Gaap shouted, waving his arms around frantically in the air, "I don't think he likes me very much. He's constantly thrashing and shrieking against my soul in this tight space. Quite frankly it's all getting a bit tiresome."

"So why don't you just go ahead and smoke right outta there, then? Huh, find a new body to play dolls with?" Dean urged, finally feeling that he was getting the answers he wanted.

Gaap chuckled, "Again Dean, back to the naivety? You really are about as dumb as you look. But let's go back to what I was saying, shall we? Nothing just happens, there's all a reason behind it – a focus, a gain, call it what you will. When I crammed myself into Castiel here, which wasn't an easy task by the way, I had a point. Reasoning. That reason, Dean, was you."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief – what was that supposed to even mean?! Before the hunter caught a second to sort out his thoughts, he found Gaap's lips pressed firmly to his own in some kind of distorted yet passionate embrace. Unconsciously, Dean could feel his member hardening deep in the bowls of his jeans as Gaap continued to rub and tenderize all the right places on Dean's body. Abruptly though, Dean turned his head away from the demon – he still had questions he wanted answered. "Wait," he gasped, "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gaap gazed down at the lovely hunter, sighing in dismay. Things were really just starting to get good. "What does what mean?" he retorted.

"Me being your reason, don't try to pull that sentimental crap on me," Dean spat, seeing the look of disappoint glistening in the demon's still black eyes.

Gaap tried to avoid the subject, just wanting to get on with the action, "Dean–,"

"Spill it," Dean interrupted firmly, "There must be some reason why you want any of this lovin' so badly."

The demon licked his lips delicately, "Causa est vero secundum os." With that, he flicked his eyes back to Castiel's signature cerulean.

"Come again?" Dean frowned in bewilderment.

"Reason is indeed behind the mask," Gaap clarified, "There is a motive as to why I want to screw you to no end – corruption of the innocent."

Dean openly laughed at Gaap's statement, "Look pal, innocence is not a word used to describe me. In case you don't realize, I lost that a long time ago."

"What do you think I am, stupid? Wait, don't answer that," Gaap cleared his throat awkwardly, "Of course I know you're not a virgin, idiot. But Castiel is – thanks to you, he almost lost that, but alas he is still pure."

"What's your point?" Dean shrugged, trying to disguise the dread that was now beginning to bubble up inside him.

"Castiel can help," Gaap retorted, smiling once again. On that note, he promptly lifted himself from Dean, walking across the floor to collect his beer can.

Dean spat, "How?" His voice sounded much more needy than he would've like it to, but that mattered little at this point.

Gaap turned to face Dean once more, drinking some more of his beer before answering. "He can help us win, that's how," he said punctually, "Castiel can help us reach our goal and get Lucifer into a more, how should I say, deserving body."

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The clock played a low musical jingle as it struck the hour. Balthial had been gone for a least two, if not more by now, and quite frankly Sam was getting pretty annoyed at this point. This better work, Sam thought to himself. He sat in one of the motel room's many chairs, shaking his leg anxiously.

Bobby huffed in annoyance, "Damned idgit. If doesn't get back soon, I'm gonna be using his little ingredients to roast a chicken." A light grin flickered across Sam's lips, somehow Bobby's insults seemed to make the best humor.

Then, almost as if on cue, Balthial appeared with a sound of rushing feathers. He placed a clay jug, similar to that in which to bear holy oil, light on the table before clearing a large space on the floor by moving objects with his feet.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, immediately jumping to his feet.

"There must be a large space provided for the sigil, as I explained earlier," Balthial replied simply, "Time is short and so we must hurry."

Sam's eyes widened as Balthial lifted the container from the table and began to poor a thick red liquid into a puddle formation on the floor. The angel then crouched down, dipping his entire hand into the liquid, and began to paint mismatch symbols in a circular pattern. "What is that?" Sam gasped breathlessly.

Balthial's eyes never left his work, his voice monotone as he spoke, "Blood."

"I can see that, I mean where did it come from?" Sam urged, feeling panic begin to well up inside him.

"A newborn lamb, I slaughtered it," Balthial explained quietly, feeling just slightly guilty as the words rolled off his lips, "Rosemary." Bobby was quick to hand the angel the herb, watching in fascination as he spoke an Enochian chant while sprinkling it amidst the lamb's blood. Balthial continued with his orders until at last only the salt and black pepper were left. Tilting the bag of salt downward, the angel drew a perfect circle around the large and bloody sigil. At last he took a miniscule amount of black pepper in his fingertips and muttered the words, "Zamran ollog oiad lama." (show me the path.) He then cast the condiment into the center, watching as the whole circle burst into pure white flame.

Both Sam and Bobby had to shield their eyes from the blinding light, cowering back as Balthial took a fearless step forward. The angel's lips moved stealthily, but no sound could be heard. Suddenly, with his arms outstretched wide, Balthial threw his head upward his expression blank in awe. There came a soft whisper of almost choir-like voices emulating from the sigil, comforting to the ear. And suddenly, a blood curdling scream shook the very walls of the room, filling both of the hunters with unrest. Finally, with a single flash, all was silent and the flames vanished into shadows.

Balthial allowed his head to droop, appearing dead if only for a moment. Sam was instantly at the angel's side, gripping his shoulders in support. "What did you hear?" the young hunter murmured quietly, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

"Dean, he is alive," the angel managed to sputter, still very much out of breath.

Sam felt as if a tremendous lead weight had just been pulled from his shoulders, such relief. "Where is he, do you know?" he urged lightly, leaning in just a little closer to Balthial's ear.

"Fond du Lac," Balthial choked, directing his head upward once more, "Wisconsin, you're brother is in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin," Bobby echoed in disbelief – that was a quarter-way across the freaking nation! Why'd the demons take him there? The elder hunter thought silently to himself.

Sam, meanwhile, helped Balthial into a nearby seat offering the angel a glass of water. Balthial accepted it with much pleasure, gulping the refreshing liquid down with remarkable speed. When Balthial had finished, he slammed the cup down on the table and laid his head in his hands. "Are you alright?" Sam asked, concern clearly evident in his voice.

"I shall be, soon I hope," Balthial smiled, allowing his eyelids to slip shut.

With that, Sam arose swiftly from the table, making for his bag which lay on the nearby bed. "We should be making for the road then," he said quietly, beginning to pack loose knickknacks into the duffle.

"I would teleport us," Balthial explained, "but I feel rather strained for the now."

"Yeah you better get to it," Bobby agreed, wheeling a bit closer to both angel and hunter.

Sam creased his brow in semi-confusion. He asked, "But what are you gonna do, Bobby?"

"Eh, Rufus still has some sorta showdown going on in Jersey. I'll give'im a call and see what I can do," the elder hunter replied simply, shrugging.

"Bobby, thanks. For everything," Sam smiled, placing a hand on Bobby's shoulder.

"Yes Robert," Balthial thanked the hunter also, arising from the table, "Your kindness is very much appreciated."

"It's nothin'," Bobby smiled in return, his eyes darting between the two, "Well, you better hit the road, gotta a lot of driving ahead of you."

Sam sighed wearily – if there was anything he hated more than sitting in the passenger's seat for an extended amount of time, it was sitting behind the wheel for an extended amount of time. But it was for a good reason, they were going to save Dean after all. And so Sam shoved down any groans of complaint he felt bubbling up within him, this was for his brother's sake and so he'd just have to deal.

Bobby watched solemnly as Sam and Balthial exited the motel room, closing the door lightly behind them. He was now left in solitude with his three best pals – Me, Myself, and I.

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Woo Hoo!! I am on fire! Haha, don't expect an update this quick for a couple of days ^___^

At any rate, I suppose you could say this was sort of a filler chapter, but I just thought it was important to get some of these details out of the way. In the next chapter we'll dive more in depth with just what the demons have up their sleeves. Until then, thanks for reading!!