Sam sped down the highway, his gaze fixed determinedly ahead. Cas sat silently beside him. He had been unnaturally quiet since Sam had told him of his vision; not that Sam had expected a vote of confidence. This silence was fine.

Not that the vision hadn't confused and unnerved Sam. It had been a while since he had experienced any kind of vision. Yet he was sure, at least almost positive, that Dean needed him. The vision was a sign that somebody was on their side. The vision was a positive sign.

That was what he kept telling himself anyway.

He wished that the vision had shown him anywhere else other than their childhood home, though. Not that he had any real memories of the place. Just a mixed number of disturbing images set up by his brother and father. After he and Dean had returned to the neighbourhood a few years back Sam had had all his fears confirmed; nothing good could ever come from that house.

So which sick bastard had Dean been taken by? Why in all his visions had he been screaming, pleading for Sam?

Yet, a small, childlike, irrational part of Sam hoped privatley...Sam felt embarrassed even admitting it to himself... that the vision had been sent from his mother. A message from his mother leading him home to his brother.

A type of home anyway.

It unnerved Sam too that despite only returning to the house once he seemed to be finding his way down winding, deserted roads without even thinking. Almost as though he made the journey every day.

One thing he was certain of though. Dean was close.

Cas stared ahead at the road, making mental notes in his head.

He knew Sam needed to get to this...this house. He knew that there was no way Sam was even going to consider doing anything else.

He had seen the visions in Sam's head. Heard Dean's screams.

Fake or not, it was more than any person could take.

Cas wasn't sure if the screams were fake. He hoped they were.

He did know though, and so would Sam if he was thinking clearly, that this was a plan. A blatant plan to get Sam where people wanted him.

He knew Sam knew that. Whilst Dean was in trouble though, he also knew that Sam didn't care.

Cas would have to think for the both of them.

Yet helping a demon?

It was against everything he believed in. Lived for.

You're helping, Dean.

He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Sam shivered slightly. He was desperate to see his brother...could he even say alive?

What he was going to say to him was a different matter. He hadn't got his head around his brother being a...demon.

Dad, what would you do?

No, he didn't want to know that. His dad always had a chilling skill of disconnecting himself as far as demons were concerned.

Sam didn't have that ability.

Dean, what would you do if it was me?

He knew.

He wanted to look into Dean's eyes. No matter what. He wanted to look at Dean and see his brother staring back. That's all it would take.

And God forbid anybody who tried to hurt his brother. Hunter or not. They would have to get through Sam first.

Dean looked around the room, his insides turning cold.

"Whoo." Crowley stretched out his arms. "The decorators did a stand-up job don't you think, Dean? So tell me, is it just how you remember it? Hey, have you noticed the ceiling? I took out the burn- thought it might make you feel a bit sensitive."

Dean shook his head in disgust.

"You sick bastard"

Crowley's smile grew wider. "I try."

Dean paced the room, he gave a bitter laugh and turned back to Crowley.

"You've even put the crib back in?"

"Yep, Deanster. My idea. I was proud of that. It's the little details that make the most impact, you know?"

Dean didn't reply.

"I'm not sure Moose is going to fit in it anymore, though. We could try though. He'll be here in..." Crowley glanced at his bare wrist, "Ooh. Two and a half minutes."

Dean looked at Crowley, his face turning from loathing to pleading in a matter of seconds.

"Please, Crowley. Please. Don't do this. I'll do any damn thing you want. I'll be your friggin' minion. Just...please...please keep Sam out of it."

"Oh but De-an!" Crowley's voice had turned into a fake child-like whine. " All my effort! The decorating, the cleaning, the planning...and to call off a reunion at such late notice. Well, it's just plain rude, Dean. One thing that I'm not and that is rude, Dean. Rudeness. No need for it."

"Cut the crap, Crowley!" Dean moved towards him and then stopped as the shine of headlights filled the dark room.

No, no Sam...

"Ahh, well look." Crowley gestured towards the window. "Now there's one young Winchester who had manners. Right on time for the party."

A car door slammed.

"So, are you going to be a good boy and let me tie you up, or do I have to force you? Oh and don't worry, Dean." A sharp laugh. "I've brought plenty of salt."

Any constructive critism and reviews are very welcome, thank you! :D