– the cabin –

– John –

– Yellow Eyes –

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam – he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

" It's an honorable death. A warrior's death."

"I think I'll pass on the seventy two virgins, thanks. I'm not that into prude chicks anyway."

"That's funny. You're very cute."

"There's no such thing as an honorable death. My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die! No. I'm not going with you, I don't care what you do."

"Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

"Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sammy!"

"No. No, no, no, no. Oh, God."

"Sam!"

"I'm proud of you-knew you had it in you. Sit a spell. So, Dean...I got to thank you. You see, demons can't resurrect people unless a deal is made. I know, red tape-it'll make you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy's back in rotation. Now, I wasn't counting on that, but I'm glad. I liked him better than Jake, anyhow. Tell me-have you ever heard the expression, "If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"

"You call that deal good?"

"Well, it's a better shake than your dad ever got. And you never wondered why? I'm surprised at you. I mean...you saw what your brother just did to Jake, right? That was pretty cold, wasn't it? How certain are you that what you brought back, is 100% pure Sam? You of all people should know, that's what's dead, should stay dead. Anyway...thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn't have done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family."

"Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?"

"Son of a bitch!"

"My father was an obsessed bastard!"

"All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam. That was his crap! He's the one who couldn't protect his family! He's the one who let Mom die! Who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to hell!"

"Do I look like a ditchable prom date to you?"

Hellhounds.

Lilith.

Sam.

"No... no... Dean...Dean..."

Darkness.

Blood.

Pain.

"HELP! NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"SAM!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

"They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The - the things that I did to them."

"Dean... Dean, look, you held out for 30 years. That's longer than anyone would have."

"How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."

"Strippers, Sammy. We are on an actual case involving strippers. Finally."

Pamela.

Tessa.

"Can I tell you something between you and me?"

"Who am I gonna tell?"

"After our little, uh, experience...for that whole year, I felt like I had this...hole in my gut...like I was missing something. I didn't know what. Do you know what it was?"

"It was you. The pain of losing my father and Sammy. I just...I wish I had gone with you for good. But I guess things are different now."

"What? The angels on your shoulder?"

"So, you know about that, huh? Well, hey, don't get me wrong. I mean, most the ones I've met are dicks with wings. But still... You know, I've done things. Horrible things. And someone upstairs still decided to give me a second chance. It just makes me feel...I don't know."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face."

"All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things. Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

"Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me."

"No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam."

"Yes, I do."

"Then that's worse."

"Why? Look, I'm telling you—"

"Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means—"

"What? No. Say it."

"It means you're a monster."

"Sam, Dean. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us. Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer, sorry! But you can trap him. The cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in.

"Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open, trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right? And here's the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn't even know - the key to the cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you boys. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, not any more. So this is me, standing up."

"Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you."

"A damn year?!"

"If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter…"

"Ever since I came back, I am a-a better hunter than I've ever been! Nothing scares me anymore! 'Cause I can't feel it. I don't know what's wrong with me. I think... I need help."

"They were grabby, incandescent douchebags. Goodnight."

"You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid. You're not my family, Dean. I have no family."

"I'm glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

"…Bobby?"

"Idjit."

"See, here's the thing when dealing with Crowley – he will always find a way to bone you."

"Did you really think you could trump me?" Dick asked.

"Honestly? No. Figured we'd have to catch you off guard."

The rougarou.

"Nice to see you again."

"Please, I don't kno-"

"WHERE'S THE ANGEL?"

She had a blade to his throat and pinned his shoulder to the ground. Her vamp teeth were bared, and if he didn't find some way to escape…

"You never even gave me a chance! He drugged me at a party. I didn't ask to become this! All I wanted was to come down!"

"So you're looking for a soul train."

Leviathans…

"Go, Dean! Now!"

"We made it, brother."

"Was there a girl?"

"...to close the gates of hell. Forever."

"Three trials…"

"…cure a demon…"

"The women at the dump? The family butcher? Seals."

"What else can seals do, though?" Nikki asked. She was wearing a very ratty Tennessee State t-shirt and sweatpants. She looked about fifteen. "I mean, do they only open this hell cage or whatever?"

Dean had to smile. "That 'hell cage or whatever' is holding the devil underground," he said. "And we've got the only other key to that hot box, so seals are his only option if he wants to get in there."

"You have the keys to the cage…"

Dean awoke slowly.

There was something soft behind his head, and as he came to, he realized it was his jacket. He tried to lift his head but his vision swam and his stomach roiled, so he relaxed, breathing deeply and looking around.

It was dark.

There was light creeping in from under the door nearest him, and he could hear movement in that other room. Every thudding footstep echoed in his head like his skull was hollowed out, and he was tense, like he'd just gone cliff diving. His heart was pounding in his chest and beating far too fast considering he'd just been knocked out.

What the hell had happened to him?

Lost a wrestling match with the King, he remembered. Gave Benny a once-over. Came downstairs to clear the basement, and –

– the cave was far less damp than they'd been expecting, for which Dean was grateful; the river had overrun its banks in a storm the week before and they'd been sleeping on wet ground for what felt like years. They hadn't had much cover the last few weeks, and although Dean insisted he was fine, both he and Benny knew better. The creatures were beginning to get to him, and not just physically; they had an unspoken agreement that they'd find a way to work in a little vacation.

This cave – little more than an alcove, truth be told – was above the water line, and Dean tossed the weapons inside, gesturing to Benny, who was climbing up the hillside a few yards below him.

"Land ho!"

Benny was by his side in a few moments and the two of them climbed inside out of the rain. They rested their backs against the side wall, keeping their goods shoved to the back.

Even from this distance, they could still hear the beast crying, its high pitched voice carrying on the wind. Dean looked down at his lap, closing his eyes.

"Hey, now, brother," Benny said, nudging him with his elbow. "Stay with me."

Dean took a deep breath, doing what he could to block out the noise. They couldn't make out the words from this distance, but Dean knew what it was saying as it called to him in his father's voice, begged him for help.

"I got it," he said, offering Benny a half smile.

"It can't follow us up here," Benny said softly. "Them crocotta, they don't like heights. He'll move off soon. Count on that-"

Suddenly he was back in the dark room with the hard floors, the top of a nail pressing into his back. He moved his shoulder to take the pressure off and sat up slowly. The room stayed level, and he turned back to the closed door. He recognized the footsteps now.

Benny.

He had no idea where they were, but he was sure they could rest; Benny had always had a knack for finding hiding places for them, and never once had they been blindsided in a foxhole. Dean tried to get to his feet, but the dizziness came back, so he sat where he was for a moment, thinking.

That bitch knows everything now, he thought bitterly. The apocalypse, the cage, all of it. And now she knows that Sam's the one's gonna close the gates. If the kid's still alive. He chuckled derisively, stretching his arms above his head. See how easy this goes from here on out. We'll be lucky to get a demon to so much as send us a text message, let alone meet up for a face to face.

Sam.

He wasn't dead.

He couldn't be.

But he was injured, and badly. In all probability, he was laid up in the hospital in a coma with no idea what the hell was going on. With the kind of shape he'd been in lately, it would be a miracle if he woke up before New Year's.

Dean brought his hand to his brow and rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache he knew was coming. They were sitting ducks for Crowley as long as Sam was injured; they'd have to rig something up to –

"Back in the land of the livin'?"

The door swung open, flooding the room with light. Dean squinted.

"Good to be back," he said, as Benny helped him slowly to his feet. The last of the dizziness wore off, and he followed Benny through the doorway and into a brightly lit kitchen. It was massive; there were five sinks, three long wooden tables, and four stoves. A large oven was built into the north wall; the door was missing, and it looked like it had been out of commission for a while.

"Where are we?"

"Restaurant," Benny said, grinning. "Used to be one of my favorites; closed down some years ago."

"One of your favorite restaurants was in Georgia?"

"This is N'awlins, brother."

Dean tried to think. "How the hell did we get here?"

"That car of yours," Benny said, leaning against one of the tables. "Your demon friend sent some more after us; I saw 'em comin' after I buried the girl. I went to get ya, but that woman down there, she…she had you in some kind of trance. There was black smoke all in your mouth and eyes. I just grabbed ya and ran."

"She was digging around in my custard for something," Dean said. "I don't know what she was looking for, but it ain't good, whatever it is."

"I thought you said you had some kind of protection from being possessed like that. You said Sam had one, too."

Dean shook his head. "Not from this bitch. She's a Knight of Hell, some kind of demon on 'roids. Lucifer himself made 'em back in the old testament days. She's been a pain in our asses since she got here. Now I guess she can read minds…" Dean stroked his temples again. "Just what we fucking need."

Benny looked away.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Don't do that."

"You're not too steady just yet. We shouldn't mess-"

Benny was giving him The Look, but Dean didn't care; he could rest when he was dead. "God damn it, what is it? She say something to you?"

"She was prob'ly just tauntin' us, man. She said something about some salesman, thinking he could make more of her – "

"Make more of her? As in make more knights?"

"Don't know. She just said to tell him she wasn't having it. That you'd pay for what you done, that the world would be set to rights, that kind of stuff. I don't remember all the details."

"That must be what Crowley wanted her for," Dean said to nobody in particular. He slammed his hand on the nearest table, wishing he had something to throw. "That's why he wants in the goddam cage."

"What?"

"Knights have to be made by Lucifer himself," Dean said. "Our brother is in that cage, Adam…who's probably already a demon by now. And Crowley wants him, to make another knight, one he can control."

"He's already the King, though, ain't he? What does he need one of these Knights for?"

Dean shook his head, looking around for his coat and shoes. "I don't know. But I have to get back to Sam."

"We barely made it out of that place alive," Benny insisted, grabbing Dean's arm. "We don't know what that thing did to you down there – "

"It doesn't matter. We got to put a stop to this."

"You been half out of your mind the whole way here!" Benny grabbed him by the shoulders and held him in place, staring right in his eyes. "I had to stop three, four times to calm you down. You were talking like we were still down in the Purg, like we never came back. And that's when you were awake."

The dream about the crocotta came suddenly back to him, but he pushed it away. "I'll get through it, Benny," he said, stepping around him. "But we gotta get this done. If Crowley gets his hands on his own personal knight, there's no telling what he'll use it for."

"You can't hide from it, man," Benny implored him, following him around the big room as he gathered his belongings. "I know that's what you do, all right? I know you. But it don't work forever, you hear? How much do you think you can shove down in that crazy mind of yours before you crack?"

"I cracked a long time ago," Dean said, headed for the door. He turned back, giving Benny what he hoped was a reassuring look. He held up his phone, which Benny had thankfully charged. "I'll call you."

Sam and Amelia stood in the middle of the small room.

"Well, this is the end of the trail," she said, raising her brows at the blood that soaked the carpets. "Guess we'll have to find a new friend on the other side."

"Well, don't get all broken up about it," he called, walking down the hall.

"Just following your lead, boss. I know us monsters are disposable."

Sam chuckled, the sound echoing through the house.

"Dane Cook back there with you?"

"Nah, it's just, you remind me of Dean."

"Uh oh."

He came back into the living room, sighing. The other room was clear, and they still had the basement to check, but he knew already – Dean wasn't here. Not anymore.

"First floor's clear. Want to tag-team the basement?"

She grinned. "Scared to go alone?"

He shrugged. "No telling who Crowley's got stashed to guard the place. If Dean was here…"

He expression sobered. "He was, Sam. I can smell him - must have cut his hand while he sliced and diced Kaja."

"Then where did he go? If Crowley has him…"

"I know you're worried," she said.

"Thanks for captioning my anguish," he snapped.

"He was probably furious with the demon for what he did to you and the girl," she said softly. "So he went after him. But you told me Dean's been like this before – and he never goes into a situation like this unprepared."

"If he wasn't thinking – "

"If those tearful sappy stories you forced me to listen to in bed last year were true, then he'd never get himself killed while you were alive, or bail on you. If he didn't quit on you after you started the apocalypse, he wouldn't give up on you now."

Not that I deserve it, he thought. He didn't reply, just stood there.

"Sam," she said. "Stop it. You know how ineffective you are when you're beating yourself up about things. Tell me what self-flagellating nonsense is going through your mind so I can dismiss it and we can find this asshole and finish this."

"Nothing, it's just…I know you're right. He wouldn't ditch me. He's loyal. He's brave. He's honest. He's…he's just better than me, better to me than I've ever been to him. And no matter how hard I try, it just feels like I always let him down, that I'm never the thing he wants me to be when he needs it. I'm always behind somehow, inadequate. And the worst part? It's not because he's unreasonable or demanding – he's right. He's always been right about me."

She didn't answer him immediately.

"We are who we are, babe," she said quietly. "Let's say you're right, okay? Maybe you do fall short of some quota he set for you. In all the years you've been doing this, you've never reached it, right? You've never sacrificed as much for him as he has for you. You haven't done the things he's done; your reasons are less noble than his. So what?"

"You don't understand – "

"You right, I don't, because I'm not human, thank God. But I know what I am, Sam. I know who I am. And I accept it. And that's your problem – has been since the day I met you. You're always trying to be Dean, and you're surprised when it turns out you're not. You're selfish. You're not afraid to get dirty to get the job done – hell, you'll corrupt your own soul if you have to! You need a haircut. You fuck demons and monsters. You give us second chances. You eat salad. You're whiny. You can be manipulative when you want to; you even kind of like it. You get jealous."

He sighed. "Hell of a pep talk."

She touched his arm. "The point," he said, "is that that's who you are. Even after all that time you spent trying to be someone – anyone – else, you're still Sam Winchester. And you can't hide from him, all right? So you might as well accept himand find a way to make peace with being him, because if you don't…you'll find yourself dying one day, wishing you'd spent more time living and less time crying over all the milk you spilled while you were cooking for Saint Dean."

"When did you become Dr. Phil?"

"I've been alive for six thousand years, Sam," she said, starting down the basement stairs. "And if you think humans have issues, you should have seen us before Dick came along."

Dean was stuck in traffic again.

Goddam construction. How fucking long does it take to widen an interstate? They've been working on this since before Dad died.

Sam's phone went straight to voice mail.

Damn it.

It was probably locked in some nurse's station somewhere, out of battery. He knew Sam was in no position to answer his phone anyway, but not being able to reach his brother made him anxious, regardless of the circumstances. Add that to the fact that he'd left his main cell in Nikki's car and was using one of the burners…

And another one bites the dust.

Most hunters never made forty, and Dean was plenty used to people he'd shared beers with dropping dead, but still, he knew this one would be with him for a while. Demons, vamps, werewolves – those were kills he could deal with. They were part of the job.

But what had happened to Nikki?

That was something else.

Something worse.

It was cold-blooded murder.

And it was more personal than anything Crowley had ever done to them. It wasn't magic. It wasn't hell. It was just lead and velocity and broken glass. Mundane.

Real life.

The one realm where he'd thought he still had a handle on things.

It was one thing to be overpowered by magic, but a Glock service weapon? If he couldn't defend people from that, what the hell did it all mean, anyway? What was the point of the devil's traps and the hex bags and angel's blades if the King of Hell could just stroll in with a Smith and Wesson and blow your brains out?

His phone rang, shattering the silence and send his heart straight into his throat.

Maybe Benny's right, he thought. Maybe I am cracking up.

The thought didn't cause as much distress as he thought it would.

He didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Dean switched ears, incredulous. "What – are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, we're in Georgia at the house where you killed the demon. Where are you? We gotta talk."

"Who's we?"

"Me and you."

"No, you said 'we're in Georgia.' You and who? And how the hell are you okay? Crowley ventilated you."

"Look, it's a long story, all right, but I'm down here in this basement. Abaddon was here, and I think she got free of Crowley. There's no telling where she is now."

"You're gonna tell me what the hell's going on once we touch base, Sam. But about Abaddon? Yeah, I know she was there."

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Apart from damn near getting my head blown off at the goddam grocery store by the King of Hell? Yeah, I'm fucking great. She whammied me, read my mind or something, and now she knows everything."

"She knows about the gates, you mean?"

"The gates, the apocalypse, Yellow Eyes, you, Busty Asian Beauties, everything."

"What?"

"Yeah, and I'll do you one better. Crowley? I know why he wants in the cage."

"You do? How do you know that?"

"Look, it's a long story, all right?" He said mockingly.

"Dean…"

"He's trying to make a knight, Sam."

"I thought only Lucifer could make knights?"

"Luci's gotta torch the soul, yeah, you're right. But guess who's feet he's had plenty of time to hold to the fire?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Adam?"

"And Bingo was his name-o."

"So wait, does that mean that Adam's – "

"Already a demon? I'm gonna go out on a limb and say yeah, three hundred years in the cage ought to do it."

Sam sighed. "We really dropped the ball on him, didn't we?"

"And Bobby, and Nikki, and Jo, and Ellen, and Dad, but who's countin', right?"

"Dean…"

"Meet me back at the bunker."

"Should we go back to Nikki's tell her family what happened?"

"What for? What could we possibly say that would help at all?"

"Are you feeling okay, man?"

Dean chuckled. "Sure, Sam. You know me, I'm fine. Just get here. And leave your side chick in the dust. The demon bitch is dead, so I guess you were slutting it up all over town while I was gone."

"Don't – "

There was a loud boom.

The car jerked to the right and Dean dropped the phone.

He whipped his head around checking for the source of the commotion. The ground was still trembling softly, and people were getting out of their cars. Dean half expected to see war planes flying overhead and bombs dropping, because why the hell not?

He shoved his registration papers into the glove compartment, which had snapped open in the shockwave. The phone was on the floor, still connected, and he could hear Sam calling to him.

He picked it up.

"You feel that?"

"Of course." Someone female was cursing in the background. Oh, Sammy, you poor stupid son of a bitch. "What the hell was that?"

Bale handed him the walking stick. It was a glossy sandalwood cane with a pointed tip and an emblem carved into the top. He had procured it at his master's request from a local shipping magnate who had recently died. It had been held in a glass case in City Hall; Bale had enjoyed destroying the display – and the rest of the building, like as not – to steal it, Crowley was sure. Down under, Bale had been a destroyer of dangerous objects, and the last thing Crowley wanted was for him to lose the taste.

There was much that would need destroying in the coming months, if all went well.

Crowley nodded at the emblem, a questioning look on his face.

"Your family crest, my lord," Bale said. "Thought it would be a nice touch."

He took the cane, examining it. It was stylish, and gave him a rather debonair look. He leaned on it, testing his weight. It held up, taking some of the pressure off his spine.

"Remind me never to sack you, Bale."

"Duly noted, sir."

They stood before a Devil's Gate, one of the oldest and largest in the world.

It was located in a great stone cavern deep in the Alps, and on the floor in front of them, a devil's trap was carved in front of the massive doors.

Bale handed him the holy oil.

He poured it into the top of the star point nearest him and watched it drain across the lines and arcs of the trap, until the whole thing glistened with the sheen of the liquid. Crowley extended his hand, lighting the oil on fire.

"Ought to do the trick," Crowley said.

"It's dangerous, this stuff," bale replied, taking the canister. "And not really necessary, even for a demon made by Lucifer."

"We're here for the Winchester," Crowley said, "but his cellmates might fancy a walk around the yard as well. Can't be too cautious."

Bale set the canister on a shelf on the other side of the hall and returned to his master's side.

Crowley held up his hands so that his palms faced the doors.

"Beh voh tah mo," he began, "en tah beh geh sah bah bah loh en, no me mah ah me espiritus no rah."

There was a great crack and the room began to shake. Stones began to fall from the ceiling and the moving ground brought Crowley to his knees, his cane clattering away from him.

"Now!" Crowley cried. "He's freed! Do it now!

"Kah hee deh rah," Bale said, "beh voh ta mo en."

The trembling stopped with an unnatural suddenness and Crowley climbed to his feet. He and Bale exchanged nervous glances, waiting.

There was a knock at the door.

It was more like a booming slam, and Crowley sighed in relief. If Father Hell had gotten loose, there'd be no polite knocking.

He held up his hands once more, turning the locks of the devil's gate until they were aligned.

The stone doors swung slowly open.

A Winchester walked out.

His path was blocked by the trap; the edges of it left no room for him to pass the threshold of the gate without stepping into the fire.

"Such a warm welcome."

His vessel had been trapped in the cage with him, Crowley knew, and what a difference it made; he could feel the boy's power from where he stood. And he wasn't even a knight yet.

That could present a problem.

"Well," Crowley said strolling slowly around the fire, "I had to mind my p's and q's. Weren't exactly locked away in Majorca, were you?"

It's booming laughter filled the cavern.

"Don't trust me?"

"I will," he said, grinning. "But certainly not yet. Why, I don't know you from Adam, now do I?"