Measure of a Man

by nej47

Sequel to Deanzilla! On top of demons, angels and even Sam, Dean must also struggle with his new giant powers. To add insult to injury, the key to controlling them is an affront to his no-chick-flick-moments male pride.

10. Done

Measure of a Man (continued)

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

A/N: ::Ducks frozen trout pitched in her direction:: Yeah, I know, it's been forever, but real life has made me its bitch for the last few months, and this difficult chapter did NOT HELP. I've been working on it for over 5 months, with countless rewrites and many nights of lost sleep as I tossed and turned, trying to think of a way to make it work. With the incredible and patient help of bevarshi, alcorandmizar, and bakura, it's finally, FINALLY right. I only hope it was worth the wait. Peacejojo was also kind enough to make some of her awesome manips for the story. You can see them in my profile. Off we go!

---

Chapter Ten: Done.

The last time Sam had felt this anxious was just as the clock struck midnight and Dean's deal came due. But at least that night he had known what was coming; it's the dread of the unknown that makes tonight so much worse. He has no idea what he'll find when he sees his brother again for the first time in over three months.

Tyler had said in his phone call that he feared Dean was dying. Unfortunately for a Winchester, "dying" can mean far too many things. Add in the Dean factor and the possibilities grow exponentially. Is he deathly ill or gravely injured? Is he suicidal, his inner demons finally dragging him so low that he wishes for death? Is he not eating or drinking or speaking or blinking? Has he gone missing, and Tyler is assuming the worst? Sam had wanted to press the kid for information, but he didn't—not when he knew he could spend that interrogation time in the Impala, driving to his brother's aide.

So off he went, determined to make the 11-hour drive from Singer Salvage to Carbondale, Illinois in nine or less. The Impala was all too happy to help, her engine purring louder than usual, invigorated by the fact that she'd finally be reunited with her Dean. The few times Sam had to coax the car back under the speed limit, she grumbled at him, and he apologized. Out loud. He wondered if he should be worried that he now treated her as a sentient being, just like Dean. He also wondered what it meant that the car seemed to handle better than ever for him now that he'd changed his tune about the not-so-Old Girl.

Now as Sam spots a cop and has to ease off the gas again, the car actually whines, like it's physically painful for her to put off seeing Dean any longer. As he opens his mouth to apologize again, a small hand appears to his right and soothes its fingers over the dash.

"It's okay," Tyler says. "We're almost there. Dean really missed you."

Sam bites his tongue so he doesn't ask what he's scared to know, but Tyler, always so perceptive, answers Sam anyway. "He missed you, too. He said he missed everybody, but he missed you the most." Sam nods his thanks, unable to speak due to the frog that had leaped into his throat. "'Course, that's while he was still talking to me," Tyler adds, sounding sad.

"Why'd he stop talking to you? Did you get in a fight?"

"No, he just stopped talking. I don't know what I did…"

Glancing at the kid sitting shotgun next to him, Sam finds the 10-year-old looking very small, knees drawn up to his chest, toes of his shoes sticking out over the edge of the bench seat. "I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong," Sam reassures him. "Dean adores you."

"He does still let me come see him," Tyler reasons, brightening a bit. "Nobody else though."

Sam thinks about what happened just minutes ago, when he'd arrived at Tyler's grandparents' country estate south of Carbondale. Just as Tyler had let him inside, both parents and grandparents greeted him and then accosted him with their worries about his big brother:

"He's not himself…"

"You HAVE to help him. He barely eats, never sleeps…"

"…only lets Tyler visit. We're so worried."

"Dean hasn't smiled or laughed in weeks, and now this!"

Sam couldn't get a word in edgewise until Tyler reappeared with his backpack and told him they had to get going. Dean was apparently holed up somewhere in, appropriately enough, Giant City State Park. Tyler's grandparents' extensive property shared a back border with the park, but the boy had insisted that they drive there instead of hiking. Now as they pull past a driveway marked as the Park Superintendent's residence, Tyler points up ahead.

"Turn left after the next curve."

Sam scans for a road but doesn't find one. "It's a service trail," Tyler fills in. "Slow down or you'll miss it."

The driver does as he's told and sure enough, the headlights shine on twin gravel pathways. Sam guides the Impala in as the thickening forest canopy blocks out the setting sun.

"I don't get it," Sam admits. "If you can walk to Dean, why are we driving there?"

"So he can see the Impala," Tyler shrugs. "She'll give Dean a reason to get out of the cave."

Sam's eyebrows reach for the sky. "My brother is living in a cave? Why?"

"We found it a while ago, while Dean was looking for a new place to train. It's a REALLY great cave. We explored all over, cos it's really deep, and one time, we had a campout there, and Dean taught me some constellations. It was cool."

Sam smiles, thinking back on the first time he and Dean had taken comfort in their wretched lives by looking up at the stars. It was a cold and clear winter's night, and they were hiding out in this crappy old cottage in Montana. Their dad had been gone on one of his 'business trips' for longer than he said he'd be, and Sam, only six, was missing his daddy and couldn't sleep. Dean hadn't been able to get him to settle down, so he got up, dressed Sam in his coat and mittens, and led him outside. Then he set a huge blanket out on the ground and told Sam to lie down on his back.

But I'm cold, Dean!

I know, Sammy, but trust me, okay? You'll see a lot better if you're on your back.

Once Sam complied, Dean sat down next to him, and as he reclined, he rolled the rest of the blanket over them until they were wrapped up like a Winchester burrito. Only Dean's arms were free, and he pointed up at the night sky.

See that, Sammy? That's the constellation Orion.

What's a consulashun?

Con-STA-lation. It's a picture in the stars. Kinda like connecting the dots in your coloring book, only you use the stars instead. And that one there's really famous. That's Orion, the hunter.

Sam's little face had scrunched up as he tried to spot what his brother was pointing out. Where? he'd finally asked.

Right there! Here, I'll show ya. Burrowing in real close, he held his arm slightly over Sam's line of sight, still keeping his finger pointing upward. You see those three really bright stars in a row?

Um…yeah! I see 'em!

Those make up Orion's belt, Dean explained. Now follow up from there, he guided Sam's eyes with his index finger, to that super bright star up there. That's Orion's armpit. You know what that one's called? Sam shook his head no, and Dean answered with a grin, Betelgeuse.

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! Sam had cheered—the cartoon was a favorite of both of theirs at the time. Dean had then traced out the rest of the constellation, and when Sam saw the great hunter in the sky for himself, his tiny world of motels and long car rides ballooned into something huge…and beautiful.

I wanna see more, Dean! Who else is up there?

Well let's see…ooh, how about Gemini, the twins? They're close by…um…yeah, right there. Again, Dean guided Sam's sight up and to the left of Orion. Brothers standing side by side, forever.

Little Sammy had looked over at Dean and found the freckled face lit up by the moon and stars. Dean?

Mm?

Can we be like Gemini?

Huh? We're not twins.

Noooo. Sammy kicked at Dean's foot. Just…don't go away, like Dad. Say you'll stay and stand by my side, forever, like Gemini.

The green eyes turned to face Sam's hazels, sparkling with what the kid had thought was starlight at the time, but adult Sam now realizes were tears. A-all right Sammy. I wasn't plannin' on goin' anywhere, y'know… Dean kicked Sam's foot right back, signaling the end of the touching moment. And don't kick me. Sam naturally kicked him again, and Dean grinned. Oh that's IT!

"Sam? Did you hear me?"

Tyler's question brings Sam out of his memories, and he glances at the boy. "Sorry, what was the question?"

"How does Dean know so much about constellations and stuff?"

Sam smiles and replies, "You know what? I have no idea. I never asked him." And I should have, he thinks with a soft sigh. And when I asked him to stay, I should've told him I'd stand by his side, too! But I didn't. I left, over and over, and when I WAS around, I stabbed him in the back instead of watching it! Fuck… The whirlpool of guilt starts churning inside him, but he swims away for now; Dean needs him, and that is so much more important than his own issues. Sam looks back to the road and returns to the point of the conversation. "So how long has Dean been living in the cave?"

"A week—he was staying with me and my family before that. But that night, when he came back from his hunt—"

"Wait—Dean's been hunting?"

Tyler nods. "He was training all the time, too, sometimes for hunting stuff, and other times with his size powers. And he's really good with 'em now, but…" The kid fidgets with the zipper on his jacket, and Sam looks at him.

"But?"

The small hands drop in defeat. "Dean's always pushing himself too hard, and I don't know why. When I tried to get him to stop, he told me he had to keep going—that he didn't wanna get rusty." Tyler makes a face of frustration. "I don't think that's the real reason."

Sam sighs, not surprised and not happy. "You're right, Tyler. That was just Dean being Dean. But thanks for trying to get through to him." He looked at the boy and added, "I'm really glad you were around to take care of my brother."

Tyler smiled a little. "It woulda been better if you were here, or Bobby or Meesh. Are they coming here, too?"

"No. I told them I had to see Dean alone," Sam answers in a quiet voice.

"What about Castiel the angel?"

Sam gives him a half smile. "I haven't seen Cas in two months. No one has. I tried praying a few times, but he never showed up." And I don't blame him, he thinks but does not say. After the shit I pulled, I wouldn't answer my prayer, either.

"Maybe he was super busy?" Tyler offers and smiles at Sam, but gets a headshake in return.

"He was probably just keeping his distance from me."

"Why? What happened?"

The surprise registers on Sam's features. "Dean didn't tell you?"

"Mm-nn, just said that he had to stay away from you—guys," Tyler adds after an awkward beat, "you guys. All of you guys." The boy avoids Sam's hurt gaze by pointing up ahead. "You can park over there. We'll have to walk the rest of the way to the cave, but it isn't far."

The Impala creeps up by a low, rocky hill and comes to a stop. Sam kills the lights and grabs his flashlight, while Tyler retrieves his own from his backpack. They are now deep within the forest, and the temperature has dropped significantly; Sam is glad he decided to wear his jacket. The boy leads the hunter forward, heading southeast from the front of the car. The terrain is rough, rocks and razor-sharp underbrush sticking out of the soil, and Sam mentally thanks Tyler for sparing the Impala's tires.

"So Dean's been living out here a week?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. He didn't go straight here from the hunt—he went to my Gramma and Grampa's house first. I stayed up late so I could see him, and he called me to let me know he was on his way back. But then when he got there he wasn't in a good mood like normal. He was sad. Really, really sad."

Sam frowns, not liking the sound of that at all. "Did he say anything? Did the hunt go badly or something?"

"No, the hunt went fine." Tyler stops and grabs his phone from his pocket, and he sifts through the pictures in his inbox until he comes to what he's looking for and then holds it up for Sam to see. It's a photo of Dean's boot resting on the chest of…something. Sam scrolls down and finds a caption that reads, 'DW 1, troll minus 1 head.'

Dean was hunting a troll? Sam shouts in his mind. Until now, trolls didn't exist outside of mythology, and yet here was picture proof of their existence. And Dean just killed one, Sam marvels on, looking at the beast in the photo much more closely. There's something clenched in its claws, and Sam zooms in to find a camping trailer—and a tiny one at that, at least compared to the fingers crushing it. The scale hits Sam like a smack to the face as he realizes just how big this thing was, and how big Dean had to be to defeat it. Sam is impressed, and more than a little envious; what a hunt that must have been! He could just see Dean's smirk as he posed with his huge boot over the fallen creature. But Tyler said he was sad when he got back, Sam recalls, and he looks down at the boy as he hands him his phone back. "I don't get it. If he was happy enough to send you that picture after the hunt, why was he so down when he got back to your place?"

"I don't know! I asked him over and over again, but he wouldn't tell me why. All he said was that he was going to live in the cave, cos that's where he belonged now. Then he packed up all his stuff and left." Tyler points to the hill they are approaching. "He's been in there ever since."

Ivy hangs over the mouth of a cave, and Tyler walks in while Sam ducks down to follow. He shines his flashlight all over the stone room but doesn't find any sign of humanity. "This is just the front door," Tyler explains, shining his own flashlight toward a small tunnel at the back. "Dean's in a way bigger cave. Come on."

The tunnel opens into a connecting cave and the ceiling vaults up as the floor tilts down, allowing Sam to stand up straight as he walks. Mini stalactites hang from the ceiling, and the echoed footsteps from the two spelunkers ricochet around the walls. Sam smiles—this IS a cool cave, and he can picture his brother's joy as he explored it. "Dean always wanted to be Indiana Jones," he confides to Tyler, "but he didn't want to learn all the archeology stuff that went with it. He just wanted to do the exploration and the cool action stuff. And I argued that he'd never get to GO on any of those expeditions without the archaeological expertise, so he said he'd bring me along: I'd be Dr. Henry Jones, and he'd be Indiana Jones, and it would be, as Dean put it, the most awesome thing ever." Sam chuckles at the memory. "Can't argue there."

Tyler stops and turns around. "But you guys ARE the most awesome thing ever! You're the Winchester brothers! You hunt ghosts and fight monsters! Indiana Jones only dreamed of doing stuff that cool!"

Sam smiles again, considering Tyler's vehement compliment. "We made a great team," he agrees, though his smile fades when he realizes he said "made," not "make."

"You'll be a team again," Tyler swears. "Deanzilla needs his Sasquatch Sam."

"I think Sasquatch Sam needs his Deanzilla even more," Sam replies softly.

"You better tell him that. He said you made your choice, and it wasn't him." Tyler drops his flashlight as his hands fly up to his mouth and clamp tight, but it's too late; the words are out, and Sam definitely heard him. But Tyler tries to cover it up anyway, picking up his flashlight and shining it ahead. "C'mon, we're almost there—"

Sam gently snags the kid by his shoulder when he tries to run off, and he turns him around to face him. Crouching down, Sam peers into Tyler's face, noting the shame at once. "Tyler, what aren't you telling me?"

Tyler bites his lower lip as his eyes search for an escape route. "I shouldn't…"

"Did Dean tell you not to tell me?"

"He doesn't even know you're here!" Tyler reminds him rather loudly, and they wait a few seconds for his voice to echo away.

"Well I am here," Sam says at length, "and I can't help Dean if I don't know the whole story." A tear escapes Tyler's eye, showing Sam just how conflicted the boy is by whatever he knows—and God how Sam can sympathize with that.

"I just don't want you to think he's bad!" Tyler whimpers, prompting more tears to flow. "I've told him he's good, over an' over, but he doesn't believe me!"

Sam pulls the kid into a hug, and Tyler fights it at first, but eventually breaks down and allows the comfort in. Sam squeezes his arms around the small, shaking frame, absorbing the pent-up frustration and fear. When Tyler finally pulls away, he scrubs the tears off of his red face, looking so much like Dean (in both gesture and defiance of his own feelings) that Sam has to study the cave floor a moment as he speaks: "I swear I won't judge you or Dean." Composure regained, he glances up at Tyler again. "I just want to help my brother."

Now Tyler looks to the floor to ground his trepidation. He takes a deep breath and the exposition begins. "Something happened about a month ago. I don't know what and I don't know why, but Dean started acting weird. Like, some days he'd train ALL DAY, not even stoppin' to eat. And other days, it was totally opposite, and he'd just sit around in the cabin, drinking beer and watching TV. Only he wasn't really watching…it was more like the TV was on, and he was just staring at it, cos he didn't know what else to do. Then he'd have one of his new nightmares and he'd be…" Tyler trails off when he sees Sam's stricken reaction to "new nightmares" information, and he nods. "Yeah, he wasn't screaming or crying at night anymore, like he usually did. Instead, he was yelling at someone to shut up and leave him alone. And whenever he had one of THOSE dreams, he'd get up the next day and do the crazy training thing. He'd run and weight lift and size shift and work out until one day, he passed out. Just…dropped on his back, right behind the house. Mom was so scared that she nearly called the ambulance, but Dean woke up in time and told her not to bother—that he wasn't worth the trouble." Tyler sighs through his nose. "Why's he always sayin' stuff like that, Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam utters, hating it just as much as Tyler. The Guilt Whirlpool is spinning again, energized by the awful news about his brother. Dean's still having nightmares, and I wasn't there. And whatever's troubling him now was making him work himself to death? Jesus, Dean, what the HELL? Sam shakes his head at his thoughts and then looks back to Tyler. "Okay, so what happened next?"

"Pretty much the same till a week ago and that troll hunt. Now he's stopped talking, and he stays big while he's in the cave. And I think that's bad, cos of the heart thing."

Sam's alarm bells ring through his ears. "Oh crap, he's having heart problems again?"

"No, no, I mean like that thing Meesh's son talked about…um…you know, where the bigger they are, the more mushy they get cos their hearts are so big?"

"Oh yeah, I remember now—Big Heart Syndrome."

"Yeah! Only now it's kinda reversed, cos he isn't wanting to hug everything. He's sad ALL the TIME." The kid blinks, looking very sad himself, and he adds in a very low voice, "Whatever happened after that hunt broke his big heart, and he doesn't wanna put it back together."

The kid's eyes lock onto the adult's, the words "It's all your fault" glared instead of spoken, before Tyler breaks his gaze and walks on, leaving the younger Winchester to fight the strong currents of the Guilt Whirlpool. If he was scared before, he's damn near terrified now, and only his hunter's instinct to chase what lurks in the dark forces his long legs on to follow Tyler through the rest of the cave.

"Did he say anything else?" Sam asks, dreading to know but needing to all the same. He gets shushed instead of answered, and Sam's flashlight finds Tyler at the end of the cave.

"We're here."

Sam looks around but only finds a rock wall, no big cave with his big brother inside. "We are?"

"Secret entrance—Dean's idea." Tyler reaches into a hole just slightly larger than his own arm, and moments later, Sam hears a clanking sound. "Doorbell made of cans on a string," Tyler explains. "MY idea."

The cave begins to shake as a curved crack of light emerges to their right. What looked like part of the natural wall is actually a big boulder, and something even bigger is pulling it loose from the other side. Tyler walks forward but motions for Sam to stay put. "Let me tell him you're here first," he whispers, and then he walks into the light. Sam listens in but doesn't look inside.

"Hey Dean! How are you?"

No answer at all.

"Anything good on TV?"

TV? Sam wonders. He has a TV down here?

"Do you have a headache?" Tyler asks, and after a beat says, "You look really pale and your eyes are all squinty. You sure you're okay?"

Still no answer, but this time, Sam hears movement: clothes shifting with the limbs they cover. "You smell him, don't you," Tyler announces. Sam looks at his shirt, wondering for a moment if he stinks, but when the light from the inner cave vanishes, it makes him look up...and into a huge green eye where the boulder used to be. He jumps back, no longer used to Dean's sheer size with three months gone.

"Dean?"

The eye stares…then glares…then disappears. Sam walks into the cave and watches his 30-foot brother crawl back across the room, reaching the other side in just a few sweeps of his knees. He sits down in front of a large screen TV, though to Dean it's more like a laptop screen, and he rests his back against the cave wall and pretends to watch whatever is on the tube. Two sounds hit Sam's ears once his brother has settled down: the hum of a generator, and the rush of river water. He looks around for their sources and finds another connecting cave near the back. Underground stream maybe? he wonders as he takes a step forward—and almost slips off the ledge he didn't know he was on.

"Use the stairs," Tyler calls from below. Looking left, he discovers a hewn staircase created by large, flat stones sticking out the side of the ledge—Dean's doing, no doubt. Sam spies more of his brother's clever handiwork as he descends to the inner cave floor: big balls of tangled Christmas tree lights strung up along the stalactites as hanging lanterns, an entire magazine rack from some convenience store serving as, well, a magazine rack, and huge movie posters taped to the walls, giving the whole place a homey, basement feel.

A man cave in a real cave, Sam thinks with a little smirk, complete with towers of empty pizza boxes and a floor of empty beer bottles. He kicks one such bottle as he passes by, and it rattles into another. There are a lot of empty beer bottles in here. A LOT a lot. He frowns but otherwise keeps his disapproval to himself; he doesn't need to start a fight over this. I'm sure we'll be arguing before long anyway—IF Dean even feels like speaking to me…

Sam's eyes drift up to look at his brother, but he has his back to him, all attention on little Tyler at his feet. "Please don't hate me," the boy is whispering, though the cave amplifies the soft plea. "I just want you to be okay. So does Sam." The giant flinches at the name, making Sam flinch in turn. Tyler wraps his hand around Dean's pinky and tugs it, urging him to follow. "He drove all day to see you. Arencha even gonna say hi?" Nothing from Dean, not even a blink. Tyler sighs and looks at Sam as he steps up.

"It's okay," Sam tells both of them. "You warned me Dean was on radio silence. If Dean wants to watch," he glances at the TV, "Home Shopping Network instead of talking to me, that's fine. Weird, though…I mean, dude," now he points at the TV, "they're selling spritz cookie makers. You planning a tea party?" The attempt at levity fails when, as per the new usual, Dean does not respond, but Tyler sends Sam a smile for trying.

"My Gramma makes those," Tyler says, crawling onto Dean's right knee to watch TV with him. "Maybe she'll make some for us if I ask. I know how much you love cookies, Dean…"

The boy keeps talking, giving Sam a chance to move closer and give his brother a thorough once-over. Tyler was right: Dean is suffering in his silence. His skin is as grey as a tombstone, for crying out loud, warmed only by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. Though he hasn't lost any muscle mass, his sagging frame conveys weakness, like the cave's ceiling is crushing him, even though it's several heads higher than his own giant noggin. Sam moves around so he can get a better look into his brother's face and finds…no one. That glimpse of Dean he saw when the big eye spotted him is long gone; what sits before him now is, as Lennon and McCartney so succinctly put it, a Nowhere Man. No purpose. No drive. No identity. It's as if the he only exists because the two people in the room have yet to forget him. The sight breaks not only Sam's heart but his entire being.

"I did this to you," he thinks out loud, unable to keep the guilt inside any longer. "You left because of me, and now you're lost cos of me, too." Tears threaten to spill out with each word of culpability, to the point where Sam has to turn away and shut his eyes tight. "I shouldn't have come," he croaks. "I'm only making everything worse!"

A weight falls on his right shoulder, but not an unwelcome one; Sam finds an enormous fingertip there, offering careful comfort. His eyes track up the long arm and land on Dean's face. His eyes are on him, too, and they're focused…and concerned. They watch each other a few moments, no wordless conversations, and no emotional stares. Just two sets of eyes connecting two brothers who have been apart for far too long.

"Tyler," Sam says at length. "Think you could give us a few minutes?"

Tyler nods and, standing up on the giant's knee, looks at his hero. "I'll be right outside if you need me. I love you, Dean."

Dean curls his left hand around Tyler and hugs him to his belly before setting him on the floor. Then he ruffles the kid's hair with his finger, and Tyler swats him off, laughing. With a wave, he runs up the steps and out of the cave, leaving the Winchesters alone.

"I'm glad you've been with Tyler all this time," Sam tells Dean. "He's a great kid."

Dean nods and reaches toward the TV. His hand shrinks down so that his index finger is small enough to push the Power button on the console, and as the set shuts off, his hand grows back until it matches the rest of him. Sam lets out a "woah!" of amazement.

"He said you were good with your abilities, but that's incredible!" Sam waits for his brother's cocky grin to open up at the praise, but instead, Dean just shrugs and settles back against the wall. His knees rise up to his chest, and he rests his arms over them and folds his hands. Only then does he look down at Sam, sending so much world-weariness at his brother that Sam has to take a step back to keep from crumbling. Dean—the real Dean, Sam's Dean—is back from the void, but it's clear that he doesn't want to stay. That I'm So Tired look has been part of his brother's complexion for years now, but never to this degree. There is no hope in those great green irises—none.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asks in near whisper. To his surprise, Dean answers him:

"Nothing." It's rasped out, voice rough from not being used, and Dean has to cough before he can continue. "Nothing happened," he follows up. "Nothing's changed. That's the problem."

"Nothing's—wait. Do you mean me?" Sam's question makes Dean look away, and Sam frowns. "I HAVE changed!"

"Clothes, maybe," Dean mutters. "Where is she? Waiting out in the car?"

"Who?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Ruby. Who else?"

"Ruby isn't here, Dean."

"So she's back at the hotel."

"What? No! She isn't anywhere. I told her to leave me alone!"

"Until you need your next fix," Dean grunts, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "I get it."

Sam blows out a sigh but stands his ground. "I don't do that anymore."

"Bullshit!" Dean leans forward until his face is right above Sam. "I saw you with her one week ago. I saw her feed you!"

Tyler's words speak up from Sam's recent memory: "Whatever happened after that hunt broke his big heart, and he doesn't wanna put it back together." Sam's mind reels as all the pieces fall into place. Ruby. The demon blood. Dean saying Sam made his choice. "The motel," Sam breathes. "You were there that night?"

Dean nods. "I was big cos I just killed a troll and I was walking back here, using the highway to guide me. And what did I hear coming down the road but the sweetest sound in the world: my baby's engine." He smiles as he remembers. "You zoomed by, and I thought hey, what the hell, let's see how Sammy's doing."

Sammy! Sam thinks with joy, only now realizing just how much he missed the nickname. He catches a glimpse of fondness on Dean's face, too, before the giant gets back to the story. "I followed you to the motel…gave you a few minutes to get your hair up in your curlers, and then I crept around the building and looked in your window." His face grows fierce, and he hisses, "That's when I saw you and Ruby. She was feeding you blood—"

"NO! Dean—"

"—and that's when I realized that nothing had changed. Fuck…I thought for sure you would've at least TRIED to quit the stuff…" He thumps his back against the wall, making the cavern shake, and he lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Guess that's what I get for getting my hopes up, huh."

"I DID quit," Sam states. "And if you would've stuck around that night for two more seconds, you would've seen me spit the blood back in her face!"

Dean's face clouds, and he drops his gaze. "You're still lying to me, too."

"I am NOT lying! Smell me!"

"Whuh?"

"Your sense of smell is much stronger when you're big, right? So take a sniff and tell me if I still smell like blood." Sam holds his arms out to either side and shuts his eyes. "I'm waiting…" He holds still for a while, and just as he's about to give up, he hears a loud intake of air at the exact same time something—the tip of Dean's nose, he guesses—nudges his chest. Sam allows Dean a moment to move off again before opening his eyes. "Well? Still think I'm a liar?"

"I think you don't smell like blood," Dean allows. "Jury's still out on the rest."

Sam nods, understanding now just how easy this isn't going to be. "That night was the first time I'd seen Ruby since you left. And when she tried to tempt me again, I told her to fuck off. I worked so hard to get clean…spent two WEEKS in the panic room detoxing, and then another two just getting my head screwed on straight. After that I started hunting again, almost nonstop. And when I wasn't hunting, I was out looking for you."

"And now you found me, which means I gotta find a new hideout." Dean pouts as he looks around the cave. "And just when I got the lighting the way I wanted it. Figures."

"But you don't have to hide anymore." Sam smiles up at his brother. "You can come back to Bobby's now. Back home…where you belong."

Dean chuckles and shakes his head no. "Where I belong. Good one."

"I…wasn't joking."

"It's comfy here." Dean holds out his arms to present the room. "A lot better than the rat-infested crapholes we've stayed in, right? No rats, for one."

"Dean…"

"Actually, make that two—it's so great, it's worth two points."

"Dean!" Hazel eyes lock onto green ones. "What are you saying?" Hazel eyes widen as green eyes drop.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean mumbles. "I'm done, Sam."

Sam can practically hear the clank of heavy armor hitting the floor as the spoken words disarm his heroic brother. "Done? With what?"

Dean shrugs and quotes Brando: "Whaddya got?"

To say Sam is floored is the understatement of the year. He'd expected anger from his brother—vitriol, even, but this? He never, ever thought he'd see the day Dean Winchester gave up, much less gave IN, and he peers up into that big face with a good amount of fear. "You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack," Dean murmurs.

"But the seals…the Apocalypse! The world is gonna end!"

"Then LET IT END!" The booming voice rumbles through the cave, causing the walls to shake again. A small stalactite breaks loose from the ceiling and crashes down on Dean's shoulder. He doesn't twitch, doesn't brush it off, doesn't even look at it. His eyes are going vacant again, staring at some random patch of floor behind the little man at his feet. Sam realizes he's losing him and kicks Dean in the shin. Focus and ferocity are back in the big greens at once. "OW! What the hell?"

"That's my question! What the HELL, Dean? You can't just be done!"

"Oh yeah? Says who?"

"Me, for one." Sam gets laughed at for that, but it's filled with so much hurt, Dean might as well be crying. He starts to argue another point, but Dean glares at him.

"Save it. There's nothing you or anyone can say at this point to change my mind. You made your choice…I made mine. All that's left to do is make like Artax and sink into the Swamps of Sadness." Dean notes Sam's confusion. "The Neverending Story? Artax, the horse, when he sinks? That scene always made me cry. Still does. But I get it now." He nods at his own words as he speaks. "I get why he just couldn't follow Atreyu anymore: he saw the truth. He was born a work horse, and he'd die a workhorse, slogging through the stinking muck on this impossible quest. What was the point?" Sam still seems befuddled, so Dean sighs, "Fine, want a more recent reference? How about Frodo falling at the foot of Mount Doom? When the burden he'd carried all that way finally got to him and cost him…everything? Didn't even leave him with one happy memory—somehow, the bad guys got that, too. He couldn't go on. It was all too much."

"Frodo had Sam."

Dean looks up at the uttered statement and finds Sam a bit bashful, but still standing his ground. "When Frodo just couldn't go on," Sam continues, "when he'd used up his absolute last ounce of strength, Sam carried him the rest of the way. He knew Frodo didn't want to give up, and he wasn't about to give up on Frodo, either, so since he couldn't take his broth—friend's burden from him, he carried Frodo himself."

One of the giant eyebrows quirks up as Dean leans forward. "You really think you could carry me?"

"W-well, not like you are now, obviously, but if you shrank down to normal—"

"Then what? I get out, and it's back to fighting to keep the world around for one more pointless day. Back to demon bitches and dick angels, back to the lies, the secrets, the damn expectations, back to being kicked around, left behind, back to giving…EVERYTHING…and never, ever giving enough." He looks at Sam with a ghost of a smile. "You really want to escort me back to all that, Sammy?"

Sam swallows hard but doesn't answer. He can't. Dean seems relieved at the silence, and he settles back against the cave's wall with a sigh of contentment. Sam frowns and asks, "Do YOU really expect me to walk away and leave you here?"

"It's never stopped you before," Dean answers coolly. "Only difference now is that I'm in a cave instead of a motel room." Sam plunges back into the Guilt Whirlpool, and when he looks up at Dean to pull him out, he isn't surprised to find a stone wall instead of a life line. "I always knew you'd choose her," Dean murmurs. "I'd lie to myself all the time just to keep going, but deep down, I knew you'd already made your choice, and it wasn't me. And I don't blame you, Sammy. Hell, I wouldn't pick me either."

All Sam can do with his brother's confession is slowly shake his head back and forth to deny it. As much as he wants to argue that he did not pick Ruby, he also—selfishly, and he knows it—craves comfort from his big brother to combat all of the hurt inside him. But he won't allow it: said hurt is from being the cause of putting Dean in this cave in the first place. The last thing he can do is ask Dean to give up even more, especially for him! So Sam summons up what's left of his inner strength before turning his eyes up to Dean yet again. Dean, to his credit, looks upset; that's SO much better than defeated, and Sam will take what he can get right now.

"I never wanted this," Sam tells him.

"Well that makes two of us."

"I can't just leave you in another hole in the ground, Dean! You're not dead…you're not even dying, but if I go out there without you, I'll…!" He trails off, emotion getting the better of him, and Dean shifts, uncomfortable and worried. Sam regains his composure and speaks in a low voice: "I won't make it. I am not strong enough to walk away from your grave again. I can't go back out there alone."

Dean puts a finger on his little brother's shoulder and replies, "Yes, you can."

"Well, I don't want to," Sam says, echoing Dean's words from so long ago. Dean's face softens as he remembers, too.

"You don't need me, Sammy. You haven't for a long time. You're strong, you're smart—"

"No, I'm not." Sam laughs at the very idea. "God, Dean, I'm not. The demon blood made me think I was, but it was just filling the void you left behind."

Dean snorts. "Careful, Sam, we're heading into Very Special Episode territory."

"I'm serious, Dean. I have wasted…SO much time thinking I know better than everyone, and where did it get me? I nearly lost you. Again! The truth is I'm only strong when you've got my back. I'm only smart when you're there encouraging me. You put me up on this pedestal, when you should be looking down at me from YOUR pedestal. It's higher than anybody's!" Dean starts to pull away, so Sam claps his hand over the big fingernail. "If I go out there alone, I'll be done, too," Sam tells him. The corner of his lips curls up and he adds, "Besides, your car will run me over if I show up without you.

"Baby's here?" Dean asks, perking up a little.

"She misses you," Sam nods, "almost as much as I do." Dean sighs, breaking contact with Sam and leaning back once more. Sam in turn fights a grin: that particular Dean sigh only comes out when he's getting through to him. "I don't want to drive back alone," Sam goes on, "I want to ride shotgun and yell at you to turn the AC/DC down, and then glare at you when you turn the volume up another notch. I want to stop at Biggerson's and wince when you order extra onions. I want to get back to Bobby's, Rock-Paper-Scissors for dibs on the TV remote, and smile in triumph when you pick scissors for the billionth time!"

"I might pick paper…"

"You WON'T pick paper." Sam smiles as Dean sulks. "I may not have much of a life, Dean, but it's so much better with you in it. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to appreciate what I've got, and all that you've given me. I guess you really do have to hit rock bottom before you realize what you've done and what you need." Walking forward, Sam reaches out and puts his hand on the huge knee. "And I need my big brother—more than ever."

Dean looks at Sam and finds his brother looking back with the kind of faith Dean hasn't seen since before his time in Hell. He licks his lips, struggling to come up with the right sarcastic remark to scatter all the damn feelings from the room, but he can't. That big heart of his wants to climb out of his throat, jump out his mouth, and starfish Sam, and it takes several coughs and swallows to get the mushy organ back down where it belongs.

Sam in turn can tell that Dean is beset by his little brother's admission, so he bumps his fist against the big kneecap in manly support and takes a step back. Dean runs a hand through his hair, clears his throat, hunches over, bobs his head a few times…anything he can think of to delay what he has to say. When he finally looks up, Sam, fully tuned in to Dean FM, knows at once what his answer will be. Face and heart plummeting, he shakes his head no. Dean, sadly, gives a slight nod.

"Sorry, Sammy," he whispers. Sam's head shaking gets more vigorous, like he's trying to ward off any further hurt with wind power. Dean finally reaches out and cups a hand around him to still the movement. "Don't break your neck over this. I'm not worth it."

"Stop SAYING shit like that!" Sam yells, pushing free of the gigantic hold. "You are too fucking worth it, Dean!"

"Then why don't you ever treat me like it?" Dean roars back. More stalactites shake loose from the ceiling as the cave shimmies, but this time Dean smashes them all away mid-drop with a sweep of his hand. They hit the far wall like darts against a board. Sam untangles his protecting arms from his head and chances a look up at his fuming brother, watching the huge chest heaving in and out with a lifetime of pent-up frustration. His face, however, is a different story, eyes wide and shocked; he's just as surprised at his outburst as his brother. But he recovers soon enough and pushes Sam toward the stairs.

"Go. Now."

"No!" Sam jumps to the side and then ducks and fakes right when Dean tries to grab him. "I won't leave you here!" Sam shouts.

"You have to, I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I'm staying!"

"I don't WANT you to stay!" Dean grouses. He reaches for Sam, but his little brother dodges him, and Dean slams his fist into the floor. "Dammit, Sam, leave me alone!"

"Not gonna happen," Sam promises. Dean's head rolls back in aggravation while Sam folds his arms across his chest. He waits for Dean to look back before he asks, "So now what?"

"Now," a third voice answers from behind, "it's time for Plan B." Sam and Dean find a man in a dark, expensive suit descending down the stairs into the cave.

"Zachariah," Dean seethes, and Sam glances up at Dean again.

"You know him?"

"I'm Castiel's superior," Zachariah replies, walking up to them both. "And you are Sam Winchester, Boy Wonder." He extends his hand to the younger brother, but Sam doesn't take it. Zachariah brings it back to his side with a flippant flourish and looks upon Dean. "Nice to see you in person at long last, Dean. Invading your dreams every night was getting to be a chore."

Sam remembers what Tyler told him about Dean's new nightmares and glares at the angel with disgust, but Zachariah takes no notice, smiling at Dean as he looks him over. "I hear you've finally thrown in the towel." The angel chuckles at the giant. "It's about time; watching you fail over and over was getting embarrassing. Talk about the Little Engine That Couldn't…"

Dean shrinks back to normal at once and gets to his feet, glowering at the unimpressed look on Zachariah's face. "How did you find me?"

"Your little friend Tyler got spooked by the mini earthquakes coming out of the cave, and he sent up a prayer to Castiel to help you. Since Castiel is…unavailable at the moment—"

"Unavailable how, exactly?" Dean asks.

"—I came in his stead, introduced myself—"

"What did you do to Cas?" Dean demands, and Zachariah pauses to glare a moment.

"Will you please stop interrupting me?" The angel waits a moment to ensure he has Dean's silence and then goes on. "Castiel is in detention. Yes, he is fine, and no, he will not be released. Not until he admits that questioning Our Father's great plan was wrong." He smiles at the cold stare Dean aims at him. "Don't give me that. It's your influence that got him locked up in the first place. You want to be mad at someone, Dean, just look in the mirror. You have a bad habit of ruining lives by being in theirs."

Zachariah snaps his fingers, and two younger angels come in, dragging a struggling Anna with them. Her pearlesque skin is covered in bruises, and her fiery hair has been yanked out in several places. They cast her down at Zachariah's feet, and Dean rushes forward and kneels down to help her back up.

"You okay?" he asks, brushing long, red tendrils out of her face. She takes one look at him and her lower lip starts to tremble. If not for the angelic grace, her cheeks would be covered in tears.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," she whispers. "I stayed hidden but they still found me—"

Dean brings her into his arms. "It's all right. They found me, too. Can't hide from the Paparazzi anywhere." Anna laughs once, grateful but still miserable. Then Zachariah snaps his fingers again and the two cronies pry the friends apart.

"Remove your mark," Zachariah orders her. Anna gives Dean another look of apology and then holds her fingers in the air above the Enochian symbols covering Castiel's handprint. A warm glow emanates from the symbols, and they lift off of Dean's skin like flaking paint and vanish back into her fingertips. The cronies seize Anna again, and white light erupts around them all, forcing Dean and Sam to look away. When it dies down, they find Anna gone.

"What's going to happen to her?" Dean asks, and Zachariah shrugs.

"Anna's been taken back to boot camp for some discipline. A little reprogramming here, some torture there, and she'll be back in the ranks, fighting the good fight." He sees Dean fume at the news, and he smirks. "Like I said, Dean, you ruin the lives of everyone you know. Just ask Sammy here, he knows what I'm talking about."

"It's Sam, and you can stop putting words in my mouth. My brother doesn't ruin lives, he saves them."

"Once upon a time maybe," Zachariah concedes, "but nowadays, he'd rather wallow in this Home Sweet Hole than face another day being Dean Winchester."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Just ask me to be your Champion so I can say no for the bajillionth time and we can get on with our lives."

Zachariah laughs. "Who said I was here to talk to YOU, Dean? You're yesterday's news. Today," he spins around to face Sam, "is all about Sammy."

"Again, it's SAM," Sam snits. "And I don't give a rat's ass about anything you have to say."

"Not even if I could tell you that I know where Lilith is right this second?" The corporate smile returns when he gets their full attention. "She's out east, preparing to break the last seal."

"There's only one seal left?" Sam yells, incredulous. He looks at Dean, who is shaking his head in disgust.

"65 turnovers in one friggin' season…wow. I think you need to talk to Team Angel about why dropping the ball is BAD, Coach."

"You think this is funny?" Zachariah snaps. "Your world will end at midnight tonight, mere hours from now, and you're making jokes."

"And you're standing here telling us about the seal instead of doing something about it!" Dean shoots back. "If you know where she is, why the hell aren't you over there stopping her?"

"Because we can't; Lilith is too strong. So is the last seal, for that matter—that's why she's the only one who can break it."

"So stop Lilith and the seal never breaks," Sam muses.

"The world keeps on turning," the angel confirms, "and we crack open a few bottles of the best bubbly to celebrate."

Dean is dubious, to say the least. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that," Zachariah smiles, and he looks away from Dean and over to Sam. "All we need is the right tool for the job."

"Riiiight, SAM'S the tool in this scenario." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Are you saying you don't think your brother can do this?"

"No, I'm saying you're a tool, ya tool." Dean nearly rolls his eyes again, but when he catches a flash of doubt on Sam's face, he turns to his little brother. "I KNOW you can do this, Sam. I just don't want you to."

Zachariah scoffs. "You don't have a say in this anymore, Dean."

"Trust me, Chuckles, I've got PLENTY to say. And I'm just getting started."

"God chose you out of everyone else on the planet, but instead of embracing your destiny, you gave it the middle finger! Why my Father hasn't struck you down for your sheer insolence is beyond me."

"Yeah, well right back 'atcha, douchebag! This isn't about destiny—you're just crabby cos you're not getting your way! You don't give a damn about me OR Sam. You just want to use us so you don't have to get your manicured hands dirty."

"Now see here you insignificant pinprick—"

"Oh I'M the prick?"

"GUYS!" Sam yells, putting his large frame between them. "We don't have time for this." He turns to Zachariah. "How do we stop Lilith?"

"There is no 'we,' Sam, just you. You are the only one who can. Those special…talents of yours hold the key to everything."

"You are unbelievable," Dean seethes. "All year, you angels have been telling me to stop Sam from using his powers—that he was getting too powerful, too dangerous. And now you're the captain of his cheerleading squad?"

"Well since our quarterback is sitting out on the championship game," Zachariah throws back, "our back-up man has to save the day."

Dean doesn't buy it. "No, no. Something stinks here, and it's not just your douchey aftershave." He points at the angel with his thumb and looks to Sam. "He's been after me for a month to do this, and out of the blue, YOU'RE his Go-To Guy? He isn't even trying to talk me out of this cave, but he won't shut up about you going instead! Why the about, face?"

"You've left us with no other choice, Dean," Zachariah says, growing impatient. "You're the one who quit. You're forcing your brother into doing what you refuse to!"

"Why did you wait till the last minute to offer me the job?" Sam speaks up, catching a whiff of the same stench. "It's not like I was hard to find. You could have talked to me anytime at all, but you waited till practically the last minute. Why?"

"Because we were hoping Dean would man-up and do the right thing!"

"I AM doing the right thing," Dean insists. "Not doing what you say is definitely the right call. Same goes for Sam."

Zachariah pinches the area between his eyes. "If Sam doesn't kill Lilith, no one will."

"But I don't even know if I can," Sam argues. "I haven't used my powers for months. Not since Dean left."

"You mean since you nearly killed him." The pain that registers on both brothers' faces makes it plain that this is still a raw issue for them. Zachariah takes full advantage of it. "Let's revisit that, shall we?"

He snaps his fingers, and a series of loud CRACK!s cut through the air. Dean doubles over, clutching his chest as blood pools on his shirt. Sam moves to run forward, but Zachariah grabs his shoulder and holds him back. Looking at him, the angel begins, "Would you like to know what Dean was dreaming about nearly every time I visited him? You, Sam. This. Crushing him…leaving him behind…sometimes one after the other."

Dean opens his mouth, but only a wheeze escapes. "What's that, Dean?" Zachariah mocks. "Cat got your tongue? Good. Let's hope he keeps it..." Tears spill out of Dean's scrunched-shut eyes, and the angel sniffs in derision. "Take a good, long look at what's left of your brother, Sammy. The once-mighty Dean Winchester, Heaven's very own Chosen One, crying like a little girl in a grave of his own design. Pathetic." Another sharp CRACK! pelts out, and Dean drops to his knees in agony.

"Stop it!" Sam both begs and demands.

"Stop what? The damage is already done: YOU did this to him, not me. Alistair had to torture him for 30 years in Hell before he broke, but a squeeze and some choice words and from you, and he was finished." He snaps his fingers again, and Sam's voice echoes around the cave, torn from the brothers' memories:

"I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm strong. I'm fucking powerful. YOU'RE the one who's weak."

"I'm the one doing all the work, protecting the world and saving your pathetic, overbearing, righteous ass every time you fuck up. You don't deserve my help, that's for sure, but what can I do? You're my BROTHER, right?"

"At least I didn't torture souls for ten years. At least I didn't jumpstart the Apocalypse! And if you think I'm EVER gonna forgive you for what you did, you are DEAD wrong."

"Shut up, stay out of my way, and let me work. And if you don't like the way I'm handling things, then maybe you should've just stayed in Hell."

Zachariah whistles as the last statement fades into the background. "I'm impressed, Sam: that little tirade of yours hit every last note on Dean's personal Pain Scale. Honestly, you could've left out the crushing completely and just let the words do all the damage." His smile curls into a smirk. "But you do have a sadistic side, doncha Sammy boy?"

Another finger snap and another one of Dean's ribs snaps, too. Sam's entire body jolts at the sound. Zachariah claps Sam on the shoulder and stands next to him. "It's a pity you weren't in Hell instead of Dean. Alistair would've adopted you as his new favorite for sure."

Dean lets out a strangled cry, pained as much by what Zachariah is saying to Sam as what he's inflicting on Dean himself. His little brother is beside himself with shame, head ducked low so Dean won't see him, but he sees him anyway—always has, always will. His eyes are blinking rapidly, fighting tears. His back is hunched way over, like he's trying to fit into a hiding place two sizes too small. He's biting his lip and counting his shoe laces. He feels shame and wants comfort, but doesn't think he deserves it, so he tries to hide in plain sight. It's the same posturing Dean has seen countless times in his Sammy all these years, and it always means one thing: Sam needs him. Best of all, it's genuine: no lies to cover up other lies, no phoning it in just to make Dean feel better, just little bro needing big bro to be his hero again. Now if big bro could only answer!

C'mon, Dean, DO something, he coaches himself, but his body just sits there, unable to stand up, much less punch that dick angel in the mouth. His size starts to fluctuate, the control he worked so hard to build crumbling under the combined weight of helplessness and agony. His head hits the ceiling, and just as Zachariah looks over, he shrinks down to a foot, only to grow and expand again, over and over, just like he had done so long ago at Bobby's house. The frustration burns even hotter than the pain, fueling the size shifting to greater speed and extremes.

"Having fun yet, Dean?" Zachariah asks with a grin.

Dean forces air through his aching lungs just so he can grind out two words in answer: "Eat…me."

"I'll pass, thanks. Now how 'bout it? You two ready to cooperate, or do I have to get rough?"

Sam pushes away from the angel and glares at him anew. "That's some work ethic you've got. Whatever happened to saying 'please'?"

"Oh we're way past pleasantries. I was never Mr. Nice Guy to begin with, and if we didn't need a Champion to defeat Lilith, I would have struck down both of you the very second you dared to speak back to me. You are clinging to a very, and I mean VERY, fine thread of patience, gentleman. Do. Not. Push me." The angel looks at the brothers in turn, all stone-cold business, and the shadows of his invisible wings flex with menace on the far wall of the cave. The Winchesters keep their mouths shut for a change, and Zachariah gives them a small nod of thanks for it before setting his gaze on Sam. "Now what's it going to be, Sam? Yes or no?"

Sam looks up at Dean, still in pain as his broken ribs expand and shrink with him, and knows he has no choice. "I'll go."

Zachariah is all smiles again. "Excellent! I'll make the arrangements—"

"But only if you heal Dean so he can go with me."

"Done." The angel snaps his fingers, and instantly, Dean's ribs are back in place. Free of pain, he shrinks back to normal, looking himself over as he descends; only the bloodstains on his shirt give any evidence that he was ever out of sorts in the first place. But just as he's about to take his first step toward Sam, Zachariah waggles his index finger. "Ah-ah-ah. I may have healed you, Dean, but I'm not about to let you screw up our only shot at stopping Lilith. You're staying right here." Pointing his finger at the ceiling, Zachariah pulls his thumb down like he's shooting a gun, and a huge crack snakes across the ceiling. With a roar, it gives way, and part of the hill above the cave crashes in, trapping Dean behind a thick wall of earthen debris. Sam is already scrabbling at the rocks and dirt before the dust has settled, calling Dean's name as he works in vain to free him, but Zachariah pulls him away.

"Save your energy, Sam," he coaxes. "You don't have time to dig your way in, and besides, Dean's just fine, I promise."

Sam shoves him off. "You promise," he repeats flatly. "Why don't I believe you?"

Zachariah gives an exaggerated shrug. "I didn't HAVE to keep him safe…"

"You didn't have to bury him, either!" Sam yells. "Now free my brother or—"

"Or WHAT, Sam? Hmm? What are you going to do to me, exactly? I'm a high-ranking angel, you're a human with a taste for demon blood. I'd say 'bring it on,' but you've got nothing to bring." Sam's face sours at the truth, and it makes Zachariah smile in triumph.

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

The low sounds are coming from the other side of the new wall, and several pebbles fall loose from their positions. Zachariah turns to the cave-in site and raps his knuckles against a boulder. "It's no use, Dean. If you didn't want to be locked away for safe keeping, you shouldn't have quit on us in the first place!" The thumps sound out again, each one louder and more powerful than the last, as Dean tries to pound his way to freedom, but the angel pats the rock like he's consoling a fussy child. "Now, now, don't waste your air. Sam's already long gone."

"No I'm not—!"

Zachariah snaps his fingers, and Sam disappears with the third word out of his mouth. "Off to play his part," Zachariah continues, "and do what he was born to do. Just as you will do, when the time comes."

The entire cave quakes as parts of the cave-in wall bulge out; the angel just laughs. "Temper, temper, Dean. Remember that your little friend Tyler is still out there. Do you really want to chance hurting him during your break-out attempt?" A medium-sized boulder rolls free just as the shaking dies out, so Zachariah flies up and looks in. Dean has grown large enough to encompass the enclosed space, and when the angel taps him on the exposed shoulder, the giant shifts until a big, angry green eye is glaring right back.

"It doesn't matter how big you get," Zachariah says. "Our cause will always be bigger than you. It has taken millennia to get here, but we are FINALLY getting our Apocalypse." The big eye widens at the news and Zachariah beams. "That's right, we WANT the Apocalypse. We've wanted it for centuries! Well…Upper Management's wanted it; the peons, like your friend Castiel, had no idea. They worked so HARD, trying to stop seals we'd already given the okay to fall. I almost feel sorry for them. But hey," he snickers, "business is business. And tonight, our great Takeover begins."

"Sam will stop you," Dean states.

Zachariah is pure, hoity-toity snob as he replies, "No, he won't. Sam's job is to get the ball rolling, and roll, I assure you, it will." He puffs out a quick sigh and adds, "Too bad he won't live long enough to enjoy the results…."

The earthquakes start in again at once. Dean's fist punches through the hole, but Zachariah easily evades him. "A temper tantrum, Dean? Honestly. It's almost as pointless as you are." The fist slams out again, ensnaring the angel in its huge digits a moment before he teleports away. Out of reach, Zachariah brushes himself off and looks back at the wall. "We control this chessboard!" he yells. "You and Sam are just pieces. We'll use you and, if needed, we'll sacrifice you, too. We'll sacrifice everybody if we have to! As many as it takes until we win."

"You SON of a BITCH!"

Zachariah shoots a bolt of lightning into the small cage, relishing the cries as Dean is struck down to tiny size. Peering in through one of the newly made holes, he clicks his tongue at the pathetic sight before him. The wee form has jumped to his feet and is staring all the way up at him in defiance.

"I won't let you do this," Dean announces. "You hear me, asshole? You will NOT get away with this!"

Zachariah rolls his eyes. "That old cliché? Dean, Dean, Dean. Of course we'll get away with it—we already have!" Dean's six-inch body starts pounding at the rock wall, and it prompts the angel to laugh again. "Rage all you want, but it won't change anything. It's too late, and you're…well, you're not enough of a man OR a hero to do anything about it. You don't measure up, Dean. It's about time you stop trying." With that, Zachariah straightens his tie and stands back. "See you when the End is past nigh…"

He disappears, leaving Dean alone in the darkness…and fuming. His little body stands rigid, teeth bared as he plays over the latest stab in the back courtesy of the dicks with wings. They LET the seals fall! he thinks in outrage. They WANT the Apocalypse! Using us like we're Red Shirts on the Away Team. Those fucking BASTARDS!

Dean breathes hot air in and out of his nostrils and knows that his very short-lived retirement is over. Five minutes ago, he thought he was done with hunting and heroics and being lied to and treated like he's nothing. Now he knows he's ready to go back to the first two—and he's super, mega, ULTRA done with the last two.

"Don't measure up, huh?" he asks, feeling his body expanding at a rapid pace. "Nothing I can do about it, huh?" His head hits the ceiling, and he grins. "WATCH ME!"

The cave quakes violently as Dean surges upward, destroying his sweet hideout as he grows to freedom. To Tyler, who is watching from a safe distance, the already sinking hill now drops out of sight, only to reappear again seconds later, bulging up and out. With great burst of dirt and noise, a hand the width a barn reaches straight up, demolishing the greenery as it comes through the ground. Tall trees fall over as the earth continues to transform. The hand presses flat as a huge elbow appears, and soon, a massive head of spikey hair follows. A humongous mouth opens up to breathe in, and as the colossus keeps rising out of the ground, the shadow he casts on the world grows and darkens. Finally, the titan climbs out of the hole, his body a silhouette against the sunset. He brushes off his clothes, looks around, and laughs.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW, BITCHES?"

Instead of a worded answer, Dean hears a tiny squeal. Looking down, he sees a half-inch-high Tyler running toward him from the woods. Dean kneels down and catches the kid just as Tyler flings himself at Dean's outstretched hand. "Whoa! Easy there, Ty-Guy!"

Tyler just hugs the life out of the big thumb. "DEAN! You're talking, you're out, you're OKAY!"

"Yup, yup, and mostly yup," Dean smiles. "I've got a lot of work to do before I'm okay."

"Where's Sam?"

"Zachariah sent him away. I gotta go find him."

"I know I shouldn't say this about angels, but he was a jerk," Tyler says, and it makes Dean laugh.

"That's being way too nice to him." Dean stands up, cupping one hand over the other to keep Tyler safe. "Hokay. First, you gotta point me in Baby's direction. Second, I gotta walk the two of you back to the house. And then, I'm gonna find Zachariah and give him a five-fingered piece of my mind. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Tyler stands up tall on the big palm and points off to the side. "To Baby!"

"To Baby!" Dean repeats with a grin. He takes his first gigantic stride, feeling nothing but confidence in his simple, three-step plan. So the world's ending at midnight. So what? That's just a Thursday to a Winchester. And just like all the other motherfuckers that have tried to take this planet away from us, I'll be all too happy to remind them: this is OUR planet. Team Humanity. Keep off the grass, stay out of the water, and no trespassing on our property!

Dean turns up the AC/DC playing in his brain and walks on, tall and proud and so ready to fight for his right to keep being awesome.

---

A/N: Additional: So? Was it worth the wait? Did you like it/hate it/meh it? Let me hear it! I live for feedback, and reviews are love :)