Sooo...about tenses and perspective. I write this as if Sam's thoughts are narrating, but John and Dean are writing in the journal, since I think that's how things would be recorded in their individual minds. Thus why Sam's first-person present-tense and John and Dean are past-tense third-person.


John Winchester was a very intelligent man. He knew his way around every supernatural creature he'd ever encountered, and quite a few he hadn't besides. He could read and react to damn near any situation, and he had an uncanny ability to tell what needed shooting wherever he was.

He found it very suspicious that 'Sam' had shown up so injured that his family wouldn't push him for anything, said everything just right to keep them from being suspicious, and then bailed before any explanation could be given. It was also very suspicious that Sam had disappeared to fight an extremely powerful demon without asking for any backup. An extremely powerful demon that had apparently involved him in its 'psycho end the world plot.' That part John was pretty sure was true.

Once the 'Sam' thing was gone, the first thing he did was to call the morgue.

It didn't take much searching to find out that his youngest son was dead.

Sam's last living action had been to call his brother. He'd probably gotten involved with this thing, realized he was in too deep to possibly get out, and called Dean to warn him about the upcoming apocalypse. Then the thing killed him, stole his body, and stopped by to make sure Dean and John didn't suspect it.

According to the hospital report, Sam had simply dropped dead not thirty seconds after he'd hung up the phone. No medical reason for it, he'd just…poof. Dead. Heart stopped. All those wounds Sam had had when he'd gotten to Michigan? Not enough to kill him, apparently, and there were no weapons nearby that could have caused them. Of course not, since Sam had panicked and gotten himself out of Palo Alto and into someone's lawn in the middle of Suburbia to die. Sam had done more extreme things to soothe his 'bad feelings' about something, and was usually right to do it, but John couldn't help thinking Sam had been running from something.

Of course, there wouldn't be a medical reason for his death. It was supernatural. Whatever was out there right now wearing his son, it had made sure Sam was good and dead first. That night it had stolen Sam's body from the morgue, just in time to stagger in and bleed all over the hotel room.

'Sam's' confused babble when he'd arrived…it made sense, now. Sam had been killed, and therefore Dean had been rendered a non-threat. John had presumably also been rendered unable to fight whatever kind of monster it was. Sam would have been able to take out at least one of whatever this thing's allies were, John was sure of it. His son may have been retired, but Sam was one clever sonovabitch. The rest could be planned out to make it seem like it really was Sam.

The problem was that if he intended to kill this thing walking around in his son—and oh, John intended to kill it—he would become a target himself. As soon as it realized he wasn't fooled, everyone around him would be put in danger. If Dean didn't believe this thing was really Sam, he'd become a target, and knowing how well Sam had done against it, it probably wouldn't end well for Dean.

This wouldn't be a problem, usually. Dean was always in danger. But apparently this thing was big.

Once he'd been certain it had been demon-level big, bigger even, he'd researched everything he could involving Hell. Every hint of lore regarding demons and the afterlife that seemed remotely credible and accessible passed through his hands. He'd caught a crossroads demon and tortured it for information. He'd talked to hunters he would normally never interact with, because they were just the kind of paranoid bastards that just might know something.

What he gathered was that he'd have no realistic chance of keeping Dean safe if he chased this thing.

He knew that Dean didn't believe that his brother was dead. Dean just didn't give up on Sam; it was one of the pillars of the Religion of Winchester. But if he pretended that he believed Dean when he said he wanted revenge, sent him on what amounted to a wild goose chasing the monster but kept him from getting too close, Dean would be safer than he'd ever been. He'd be busy enough to keep his head down, but not close enough to be a threat. It was a delicate balance to keep, but John was certain Dean would never be able to catch up if he still thought the thing was his brother. In this one case, his devotion would blind him just enough that he'd be kept out of the way.

Yes, that was one way to keep Dean safe. Backhanded enough that Dean would never realize what was happening, too. He'd be too busy trying to convince John that it was revenge he was after and not his brother, it was almost realistic. Almost realistic was possibly the best John's plans had ever merited.

Once this thing wasn't carting Sam's body around, he would find the thing that killed Mary. Right now, he had two vengeance quests to go on, and he just knew Mary would want him to make sure their son was at rest. She'd never forgive him if it turned out Sam was still trapped in there somewhere, watching his body as it did whatever it was doing—apparently, climbing the ranks of Hell at an astonishing rate.

John called in every favor he was ever owed. He researched. He hunted stronger and stronger things, making sure he had the knowledge and skill to go up against the King of Hell in a one-on-one fight. His only chance was to get this thing alone and kill it. Salt and burn the body, and he could be sure that Sam was at peace, at least. It was the least he could do for his boy, his precious youngest child who had never been meant for hunting.

Daniel Elkins died, and John got the Colt.

A woman he didn't recognize died on his doorstep, and he got a knife that could kill demons. Suspicious, very suspicious, but he was so close. He couldn't turn away help from even the shadiest of his contacts.

John was going to track this thing down and kill it dead.


"So. Heaven is evil and Hell is mediocre. Great."

Sam looked up. "Thank you, Dean. Did you come to my office just to tell me that? Because I do have an intelligence service, you know. They tell me things like that too, except it's their job."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Sam. Your sense of humor never fails to astound me. Any idea what we're gonna do about the evil Heaven and mediocre Hell?"

Sam sighed. "We should probably have Cas and Gabriel here for this. You're here now, we need to adjust some of our planning."

"I heard my name!" Gabriel was abruptly there in the way that Castiel could sometimes be, and Dean startled. Sam didn't seem surprised, though.

"Gabe, Cas." Woah, Cas was behind him!

"Personal space, man, I thought we went over this," Dean hissed. Cas nodded and ignored him.

"You are making your plans for the future?" He asked, fixing Sam with that same intense look he always had. Sam didn't think it was a challenge, or just didn't care, since he shifted his paperwork to the side to show a completely blank page.

"Right. Here's Hell," Sam said, drawing a sloppy circle with an 'H' in the middle. "Here's Heaven,"—a smaller cloud-shape with a little winged stick figure in the middle—"and here's Earth. Presumably Purgatory is out there somewhere, but we really don't care."

"Wow, gorgeous." Gabriel muttered dryly.

"Shut up, Gabriel. Everything I touch is beautiful. So Heaven's making noises that I don't like, and Earth is unfairly biased against us. That means the only chance we've got to win this war that's coming up is to act fast and act mercilessly. The only place that gives us a huge advantage is Hell, but we don't ever want to let the enemy in the gates. Hell is somewhere we retreat to when there's no other option. Earth gives us a bit of advantage, since there are more available vessels for us than there are for the angels, especially if we go for the angel vessels first. Cas, can you tell who is and isn't a potential vessel?"

Castiel nodded a little warily. "Perhaps ordering the mass possession of hundreds of innocents would be counter-productive?"

"We'll do what we have to, they're only a couple of people. Better to get them possessed and not suffer massive losses because we were too slow," Sam decided.

When he said it like that, it almost sounded logical. Still…

"Sammy, that's hundreds of people and you know not everyone survives demon possession. Find another way."

Sam smiled a little, like he'd been expecting that.

"There is one other way. Castiel, Gabriel, this could be the least damaging to your family ultimately, but it might be a little bit painful for you. Are you okay with hearing me out on this? I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Warily, Castiel nodded, and Gabriel just kept looking at Sam, not bothering to blink.

"Heaven's dependent on having a leader. They've always had God, until he disappeared, and now that he's gone…Michael."

"I know you're not suggesting I kill my last sane brother. No offense, Castiel." Gabriel cut in coolly.

Sam shook his head. "Look, we all know we aren't gonna survive gracefully if it comes to us versus them. There will be losses on both sides, but especially on ours. We're not ready for a full-on war, and I'm not taking the risk that there could be more Winchesters hanging around to kill us all off—you do remember the last showdown between Heaven and Hell, right? Dean's on our side, but my dad isn't. I'm not going to let this drag out so I can underestimate human influence and get us all killed. The fastest way to get this over with is to make the first move, kill Michael, and make it a quick takeover. It's the only way to avoid killing everyone."

"It nicely avoids involving humans, as well. What do you intend to do when the Host proves capable of functioning without Michael?" Castiel asked.

Sam smiled confidently, charmingly. "They won't. If we can publicly kill Michael, they'll fear us. They'll be putty in our hands after that."

Dean didn't like the way his brother was planning, here. Sure, he was all for killing monsters, and you couldn't win a war without casualties, but…where was the boy who wanted to know if monsters really had to be evil? Where was Sam-of-the-moral-grey-areas?

Still, the plan sounded good. Tactically, it was the best thing they could possibly do—cut the head off the giant. It didn't have to feel right to make sense.

"This is the only way to get through it without unimaginable loss. This is the only way it can happen. Michael has to die." Sam leaned forward. "Any questions?"


I didn't mean to snap. I'm sorry about it, and if I could think of a way to apologize, I would do it. It's just…can't they see it? Killing Michael is brilliant. Get rid of the leader, strike fear into the ranks, make it clear that Hell is not to be trifled with. It takes care of Heaven without ever having a full-out war.

Besides, Michael wanted to wear Dean like a suit. Probably still does. I'm not letting that happen, and this way me and Dean don't have to go through the betrayal and the blood because no one will be rooting for the apocalypse. Without Michael, our lives will become so much better. He can never try to control us or make us hurt each other and my brother and I will never have to fight each other, so long as Michael just dies. One life instead of the whole world? It doesn't even compare.

Once Heaven's taken care of, Cas can probably take over. He's a hard worker, determined, and well-liked. He'll take care of it, and there won't be any worry about him attacking us. With Heaven and Hell working together, everything can be peaceful, no fighting, just peace and love. Heaven and Hell aren't so different, after all. I've got the wings, haven't I?

I'm going to make sure Heaven isn't a threat. After that, hunters will have to be reassured that we aren't a threat, to make sure none of them get any bright ideas about killing the King of Hell, and maybe after that, we can take care of the rest of humanity. I can almost imagine it…peace. At last.


How's everyone liking it? We doing okay?