A/N: Okay, so I have NO idea of time at the moment - I'm not even sure what day it is now - so sorry if you've been waiting! Here's the penultimate chapter, for your viewing pleasure...

~~HoC~~

Now you want to take me down,

As if I even care.

I am the monster in your head,

and I thought you'd learn by now,

it seems you haven't yet,

I am the venom in your skin.

~~HoC~~

Their footfalls echoed from the walls, crumbling dust down around them as they ran and Sam could hear the hounds behind them, couldn't tell if they were following or not and the uncertainty made his feet unsure, unsteady, his gait stumbling.

He didn't dare turn to look, just strained his ears past the ragged gasping as Kate pounded the street behind him, Tommy sobbing for breath as she dragged the boy along, past the solid thump of Dean's boots, the faint rasp of his breathing, listening desperately for the scrape of claws against concrete, for the snarling howls to erupt into the savage growling that he couldn't forget.

His heart hammered at his throat, his mouth lined with the smoke that hung in the air as the town burned, distant thunder of explosions still trembling through the ground as the demons razed it to the ground.

Overkill, he thought, almost wanted to laugh at the idea of anything being overkill when there were demons involved. Destruction for destruction's sake, that's all they are.

The edge of the block they were running along loomed up through the dust, the corner of the buildings catching the sunlight and he blinked, honestly surprised at the brightness of the glow that seemed to etch the bricks with gold. He snatched a glance at his watch.

Thirteen hundred hours. Feels more like midnight.

He frowned a little, scowling up at the heavy pall of smoke that darkened the sky, his grip tightening around his shotgun when he flicked back through his memories, trying to work out how long it had been since he'd woken up in the passenger seat of the Impala and found himself five states away from where he'd fallen asleep.

Forty hours, give or take. Jesus.

It seemed longer, time stretching around them, the eerie gloom and thick hush disorienting and he huffed out a breath, coughed a little, wished fervently for a tall glass of water as he skidded to a halt, threw up a hand behind him.

When Kate stumbled and leaned panting against the wall, he looked back, searched out his brother's gaze.

He looks like crap, Sam thought, taking in the bloodshot eyes, shadowed with bruises, Dean's face pale and lined with pain and fatigue. Sam knew he didn't look much better, the scant few hours of sleep he'd managed just clinging to his thoughts, muddying them.

I could sleep for a week, and he winced at the thought, old memory surfacing of hurt in his brother's eyes, the guilt he hadn't even realized he should feel until so much later. He waited for his brother's nod before he sidled up to the edge of the building, shoulders pressed against brick, fine grains of mortar trickling down his collar as he peered around the edge, squinting into the sun.

The wide street was filled with shadows, the bright light slanting through the choking dust until the air seemed alight, opaque and the darkness beyond could have hidden a dozen hounds and demons, a trap just waiting to be sprung.

"Crap," he breathed, felt a solid presence slide up behind him and tensed, unable to relax even when Dean curled one cold hand around his arm. Sam could feel the tremors rippling through the older man's fingers, the chill settling deep into muscle until his arm ached from shoulder to wrist and he shivered.

"We're gonna be sittin' ducks out there," Dean murmured, shifting away and Sam glanced back at him, saw a muscle in his cheek jump, his jaw tight. Dean wouldn't meet his eyes, shying away when he ducked down a little and he sighed.

We don't have time for this, he thought, wanted to just stop and shake the truth out of his brother and he remembered the way Dean's voice had thickened, sliding into the loose drawl of the Southern accent, the same lilt that the Ghede had spoken with, the ice forming around his brother's hand as Dean held the shotgun so tight his knuckles had been white. It's inside you, isn't it? he wanted to ask, when it bound you, when I ASKED it to bind you, it found a way in and it's getting stronger.

"Unless Kate knows another way around," he murmured instead, fists clenched, felt his brother lean away and heard Dean's low voice, Kate's high, sharp answer echoing from the walls, too loud. Sam winced, wondered if he'd really heard something move out in the street, if he'd just imagined the shadows changing, as if something was moving within them.

"Devil's Cliff," Dean breathed behind him and Sam gnawed at his lip thoughtfully. "She says there's a path down to the lake from the end of the road."

"It turned off a couple blocks back, I think," he answered, the air shifting slowly at his back as Dean nodded. They eased back and he jogged into the lead, tension prickling against his skin as they hurried past blind windows, cracked and shattered and plastered with dust. He was halfway down the block, Kate a few feet behind him, Dean still near the corner when the ground jumped, a loud CRUMP slamming through the air and glass crashed to the street around them as the air shoving hard at his back, a quick punch that sent him stumbling forward, fighting to keep his balance. He heard Kate fall and spun on his heels, saw his brother sprawled facedown on the cracked ground and a thick plume of smoke rising into the sky behind them.

Dean.

He scanned the junction behind them as he ran forward, his stomach twisting into a knot as realized the explosion had come from the street they'd just turned away from, remembered that faint shift in the dark, shadows moving.

Were they waiting for us? Or were they just getting ready to blow the place anyway? We would have been right in front of it.

It had felt too much like a trap, but then, most of the town felt like it was a snare waiting to snap shut around them and he couldn't decide if it even mattered as he dashed past Kate, wobbling dazedly up onto her knees, one hand already pressed across Petey's mouth as the toddler hiccuped, his wails muffled.

"Dean!" he called, as loudly as he dared, saw his brother twitch and the knot in his gut loosened as the older man dragged his hands under him, pushed up onto one elbow. He slowed, stopped ten feet away and watched Dean's lips move, shaping curses as Dean looked up at him, eyes bleary. "Dean? You okay?"

Dean nodded, winced, flapped a hand at him as he rolled clumsily to his knees and Sam frowned, waited a moment longer until he was sure his brother wasn't going to keel over and faceplant back onto the broken street.

"Sam, go."

It was faint, a shallow rasp but he huffed out a breath, turned on his heel again and trotted back to Kate, still wavering on her knees. She stared at the hand he offered her like he was holding out a live and very pissed off rattlesnake, finally took it and he hauled her to her feet, steadied her for a moment.

"Devil's Cliff?" he prompted quietly when she just looked around and she trembled, twisted away from his hand, stumbled to the far side of the street and stood waiting, determinedly not looking at him.

It hurt, oddly deep, called up hazy recollections of labeling himself a freak, of old fear as he realized his dreams were visions, as each new ability appeared and he wondered when he'd forgotten that he'd feared them, the power simmering inside him.

Right around the time you got yourself killed, he told himself, the greater fear of the countdown ticking away that long, long year burying the fear of his powers, desperation letting him push them further and further and then the even longer four months when all he cared about was killing Lilith, realizing somewhere along the way that he wasn't scared any more, that fear had been burned out of him with his brother's screams as the Hellhounds tore him to pieces.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice, right behind him and he jumped a little, twitched one shoulder in a loose shrug.

"Yeah. You okay?"

"Peachy," his brother grated, shifted away to stand at the edge of his vision and he caught the way Dean's back tightened as he looked over at Kate, still staring resolutely at everything except them.

Both of you, you're insane and you're not human.

The older man's gaze flickered as he looked away, scanning the street restlessly and Sam wondered if his brother felt it as keenly as he did, if Dean listened to the little voice in the back of his mind that whispered cruel agreement.

Once ya tell me yes, there ain't no goin' back. No' for eider of ya, no matter what come. No matter what it do to ya.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaustion weighing heavily as the adrenaline drained out of him and he huffed out a shaky sigh, reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.

"Sam? Hey, 'ey wha' t'is it?"

He froze at the soft edge of the heavy accent lilting in his brother's voice, sure Dean hadn't even heard it and his head was impossibly heavy as he forced it up, his neck aching, found his brother's face tight with worry as Dean peered up at him.

"Nothin'," he grated, watched the shadows in his brother's eyes shift and dance and couldn't work out what was emotion and what was something else, something that had a laugh like broken gravestones cracking together. No time, there's no time for this! "Come on. Let's get this done," he bit out, made himself smile thinly and turn away, all of it suddenly crushingly heavy as he pushed himself into a quick trot, weaving through the rubble littering the street.

Seals and the apocalypse, Lilith and the angels and now this?

"War on two fronts," he muttered to himself. "Too much," and felt his hands curl into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms as he listened to them fall in behind him, Kate and the boys, Tommy still whimpering, Petey utterly silent, Dean nothing more than a soft scrape of boot against stone and a cold, dark presence at the back of his mind. It's too much. Please.

It was a mistake and he knew it, but with an effort, he shoved it all to the back of his mind, ignoring the dread sinking deep into the pit of his stomach and letting his thoughts settle on the town being systematically destroyed around them, another dull explosion shifting the air. Making sure they're all dead, he thought, focused on the spellwork he'd need to hurry through once they reached the lake with single minded intensity. Broken ruins loomed up in the smoke, drifted past as they hurried through the empty streets and all the way, the back of his neck prickled with the sensation of eyes on him, as inhuman as Kate had labeled them. Sound was muted, the howling distant, the crack of stone and bricks falling muffled and heavy, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, his head beginning to pound with a deep, dull ache that he recognized. Automatically, he reached up, swiped a hand across the hot trickle spilling over his top lip and glanced absently at the dark smear on his knuckles, only realized then that power was thrumming just under his skin, tingling along every nerve, driving away the exhaustion that came of riding the edge of adrenaline and emotion for too long.

Slippery slope, brother. Just wait and see, 'cause it's gonna get darker, and darker, and god knows where it ends.

Dean had looked at Sam, right through him as he'd said it, months ago and he'd been so certain then, so convinced that he could stop it, I'm not gonna let it go too far, but suddenly, coughing on the smoke and dust of the crumbling town, listening to Hellhounds bay two streets over, he could feel it beating against his skull, shimmering at the edges of his sight and he gulped down thick air laced with burgeoning panic as he realized he wasn't sure he wanted it to stop. He slowed, resolve wavering as he neared a corner in the street, shattered glass in the shop fronts lining it throwing back twisted, broken reflections. His steps faltered, the ache in his head turning to a sharp stab of pain as he started to push the power away and then he turned the corner, caught a fragmented glimpse of a massive snarl below eyes that burned red and bloody, the growl driving atavistic terror down his spine.

He yelped, threw himself back and flung up a hand as he fell, time slowing, blurring and the Hound hung frozen in midair, pinned in place in the middle of a furious leap that would have buried him beneath its awful weight. He landed hard, the ground smacking into his tailbone and the jolt cracked up his spine, snapped his teeth together, he tasted blood as his concentration broke.

"Sammy!"

The cry echoed through the howl that ripped out of the Hounds throat as it crashed to the ground and he rolled back as it gathered itself, made it to his knees before it rushed him again and this time he punched at the air, sent it tumbling down the street as Kate screamed behind him, Tommy and Petey wailing, his ears ringing with the sudden cacophony. Through the din he heard footsteps, rushing towards him, felt fingers latch around his arm and drag him to his feet and he almost laughed with the relief as the heat of his brother's hand warmed him, let Dean shake him a little before he jerked out of the older man's grip.

"Sammy? Fuck, Sam, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're bleedin', where'd it get you, Sam?"

"I'm fine, Dean," he snapped, pulled away and watched the Hound scrabble back onto its paws. He grinned, strode forward, ignoring Dean's startled yelp as he threw up his hand again, fingers spread wide and the Hound snarled at him, threw itself against the bonds he wrapped around it. When he curled his fingers into his palm, he could feel fur rippling under his skin and the Hound yelped as he tightened his hand into his fist, writhing, claws gouging furrows through the street.

"Fuck, Sam!"

Sam ignored his brother's cry, the shrill sound of Kate and the two children wailing, heard his heart thundering in his ears as he squeezed his hand tighter and the Hound screamed as it convulsed, smoke pouring from its hide as it split. The howl battered at his skin, sent him stumbling back into a warm body behind him and Dean cursed, grabbed at his shoulder, swinging him away. He caught a glimpse of the shotgun wobbling in his brother's one-handed grip and then the muzzle flash blinded him, the crash of the shot ringing in his ears. Sam stumbled, cried out, his head exploding with pain. He folded down to one knee, clutching at his head as if he could hold it together, tasted hot blood in his mouth and gagged, let the hands that dug painfully tight into his shoulders support him.

"I gotcha, I gotcha Sammy, Jesus, 's okay. It's gonna be okay."

When he could think straight again, he'd wonder if Dean knew how unconvincing he sounded, if the older man could even hear the tremor in his voice as he pulled Sam tightly against him.

I've killed us both, he thought, not quite sure what he meant, except that his brother's voice kept sliding into that cold, smooth lilt that sounded like bleached bones striking together and he'd just crushed a Hellhound from halfway down the street, the sick enjoyment at the power still scorching along his nerves churning in his gut.

"S-s-sh-she's r-right," he stammered into Dean's shirt, wincing as the echoes reverberated around his skull.

"No. She ain't."

There was no hesitation, no questioning who 'she' was and Sam knew his brother had been replaying Kate's terrified accusations just as much as he had.

She is. What we're becoming, it's not human. This is what Cas meant.

"Sammy, we gotta go. Now."

Urgency in Dean's voice, rumbling under his cheek as he shivered through the reaction, choked down the power that kept curling down his arm, into the hand he didn't think his brother had noticed was clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles were bleached and Sam nodded into the older man's shoulder, levered up to his knees, then his feet, finally stood swaying. He clamped the hand that waasn't balled up and trembling over his nose, blood still seeping slickly through his fingers.

You gotta take it easy, Sam. Build up some stamina. Just like training your body, you've got to train your mind to cope with what you're trying to do.

He blinked, realized he hadn't thought of Ruby in a long time, a sudden, brief pang of longing shifting in the pit of his stomach and he squirmed a little, uncomfortable, hoping Dean wouldn't notice as the older man clambered to his feet again with a low groan.

"Fuck, I'm getting' too old for this."

Sam smirked thinly, felt adrenaline spiking through his blood again, made the effort at normal.

"Thought you came back all new and improved?"

Dean shot him a glare, eyes narrowed and tight, shuttered tightly over rage and hurt and Sam winced an apology, too soon for that shit.

"Whatever," his brother flipped it off with a shrug. "Devil's Cliff's down the street. Jesus, names like that, no wonder these places draw trouble..."

He watched the hunter limp away, his grumbling fading quickly as Dean edged past the slowly dissolving corpse of the Hellhound, rancid smoke twisting up to join the pall filling the sky. Kate shuffled after him with Tommy and Petey, the set of her shoulders high, hunched up around her ears and he knew fear when he saw it, knew what it was like to see danger on all sides and have to choose the lesser of so many evils.

Slippery slope, little brother.

"I know," he breathed this time, let them get halfway down the next block while he waited for the blood to stop trickling from his nose. The pounding nails-on-chalk-board beat in his head didn't ease off, but he pushed it away, followed them as far behind as he dared, trying to forget the itch of fur against his hand, the ripple and jolt as bones crushed and the surge of... not joy, but something close, something that came from right down deep in the hindbrain and he shivered a little, closed the gap a few feet.

Heard the footsteps behind them, the sound echoing through the wrecked streets and the baying howl that tore through the smoke turned his blood to ice.

:::

We're not gonna make it.

Not the first time the thought had careered through Dean's mind, but this time, it was sheer pragmatism, the strategist in him weighing the odds as the sound of the crowd at their heels grew ever louder, ever closer against their own stumbling, failing pace.

We've been running too long, too far. We're never going to make it to the lake.

He didn't know how the Hounds had caught their scent, maybe in that sunlit street, maybe some other kind of trap, designed to alert the demons to their presence but it didn't really matter. He sucked down dust and grit, felt it scraping at his throat, imagined it was clogging his lungs, slow suffocation, as if it was filling them inch by inch.

Been there, done that, he thought, winced away from the blurred memory with a panted curse and snatched a look back over his shoulder, saw Sam behind them, a tall shape he knew as well as his own shadow, barely visible through the thick cloud of smog and dust that had swept down over them the moment they ran out of the town. The sunlight slanted through it, so bright he wished distantly for the sunglasses he'd left in the Impala, wondered if the car was even still there.

They better not touch my girl. Swear to god.

Away from the buildings, every sound was muffled, echoing dully in the smoke. He could hear his breath, rasping through the gravel in his throat, Tommy's hitching pants, Kate's gasps beyond that and more faintly, he could hear his brother's footsteps, a steady cadence behind him. For a moment, he couldn't hear the pounding rush, the walking – running – corpses suddenly lost in the hush and he slowed a little, nerves prickling, not trusting the quiet at all.

Peering around nervously, he realized they were running through a parking lot, cars just dim shapes in the haze, hope sparking as he remembered the hasty description Kate had given him, the cliff road runs up to a view point, then there's a path down to the beach and the lake.

We're almost there.

The ragged laugh that tore up through the smoke felt like someone had kicked him in the chest, shattering the fragile hope, so close and ringing from the clouds and he froze, a split second when he was falling rather than running, caught a glimpse of scorching eyes through the smoke as it swirled away, caught in some random updraft that cleared the air between himself and the rotting corpse of a young man, one hand curled into a reaching claw, the other gone, just a tattered stump an inch or two below the elbow. The demon inside it grinned at him, half the face it was wearing torn away so that Dean could see stained teeth glinting pale through the dried, blackened smears of blood.

"Fuck," he breathed, and then the thing convulsed, dropped to its knees and threw its head back as smoke poured out through the ruined mouth with an unearthly shriek. Dean jumped, heard Sam cough wetly.

He did that, he thought, knew his brother was choking on blood instead of dust and his stomach knotted up, bile sharp in the back of his throat as he saw Kate's pale face and too-wide eyes. He shook his head helplessly, hated her, briefly, with a searing fury when her mouth thinned, face pinched with disgust and fear.

We're risking everything for you, don't you get that? Not just our lives. Everything.

But he couldn't put it into words, even if he had enough breath to spare, the feeling of standing poised on the brink of some abyss, something awful waiting to swallow them both and everything lined up to force them over the edge. He shivered, even though the smoke was hot, the sun burning through it, shadows twisting at the edges of his vision.

We're giving up our souls for you.

Beside him, Kate cried out as she tripped, stumbling wildly, desperate to keep her balance.

If any one of them went down, it was over.

"Crap," he muttered, snatched Tommy from her arms and slung the kid up to his hip, felt small hands knot in his shirt, the boy's feet thumping against his chest and spine as he twisted, grabbed Kate's hand and dragged her on until she found her balance, never slowing, even when it felt as though his throat was lined with glass, as though the air he was choking down was burning. "C'mon!"

He shoved the girl in the back, wanted himself between her and the horde behind them and Petey peered back at him over her shoulder, face streaked with tears, soot and ash smeared across his cheeks as he wailed. From somewhere, he found a smile, figured it was more like a grimace when the boy just cried harder and let it slide away, twisting back again.

His brother was gone, the place where he'd been just a shifting vortex of smoke and Dean slowed, heart hammering at his ribs.

"Sam? Sam!"

"I'm good, keep goin'!"

It came from the side, near the indistinct shadows of cars and he squinted, thought he saw a faint, tall shape, ducking behind them. "You better have a damn good plan, little brother," he panted and Tommy buried his face in Dean's hair as someone screamed behind him, started choking. He recognized the sound, the thick, awful gagging as the demon fought his brother's will and clenched his fist tight around the shotgun.

"That ain't a good plan."

All he could do was go along with it, the kid bouncing on his hip as he hurried on, every step jarring his aching body. The world went quiet, close, made tiny by the smoke and the scuff of their footfalls was loud, echoes dulled. He heard it before he saw it, the low rush and clatter of water over rocks coming softly through the fog of smoke. Dean slowed, let Kate catch him up and she grinned at him for a moment, before she seemed to remember to be scared and her face shut down again, closed off.

"We made it," he muttered, waited for her nod before twisting back to peer over his shoulder, looking for his brother's tall shadow through the haze. It lifted, caught in an eddy of scorched air, swirled away from the dim shapes of cars lining the small parking lot. Things shifted in the glass, reflections dancing across the soot-streaked metal and he glared, hefted his shotgun, wished there was something to aim at.

"They're tryin' to flank us," he murmured, palms itching with adrenaline, the need to hit something, to fight rattling him, making his pulse skip and race and he pushed it away with an effort, tried not to jump when Sam appeared out of the smoke at his side.

"There's a couple hounds out there, can't work out how many demons," the younger man breathed and Dean nodded tightly.

"Path down to the lake's on the South West side of the lot."

They swung around to squint through the fog together and he stiffened as he heard a scrape behind them, felt Sam go taut beside him. He knew what it was without looking, could feel the awful weight, as if it was bowing the shape of the world, some false gravity dragging at his soul and his heart stuttered, cold sweat trickling down his spine.

Hellhound.

It snarled, so deep the sound shook along his bones and he squeezed his eyes shut, saw, in the dark, them leaping for him, dragging him down off the table, smothering him as they tore at him, digging for his soul, slavering over it as they ripped it out of his body and left his ruined shell behind.

His eyes snapped open, wide and he knew he was shaking, his brother's gaze sliding over him.

Fuck, Dean, pull your shit together.

He swallowed hard, lifted the shotgun an inch, ready to spin and unleash both useless barrels at the thing behind them, opened his mouth to shout Kate, run! and swallowed the cry when a hand slammed into his shoulder, knocked him clear off his feet. He crashed to the ground, aching hip slamming into concrete, breath knocked out of him as he scrambled to his knees in time to see Sam fling his arm up, fingers spread wide.

Oh fuck, he thought, an instant of perfect clarity as he searched his brother's face for the furious joy he'd seen there as Sam crushed the Hound back in the town, saw nothing but fear and determination. He felt the power that rushed out of the tall hunter, rocking him back on his knees but it slammed into the beast, picked it up and flattened it against the side of an SUV. The alarm blared, almost covering the pained whimper that Sam let out as he slumped down to the ground and Dean's stare flicked between his brother and the carcass beginning to dissolve, still pinned to the crumpled side of the vehicle.

Jesus.

Nothing moved except the twisting smoke and the shadows dancing around the edges of his vision. His heart pounded in his throat, blood rushing through his ears and all he could hear was their rasping breaths, his and Sam's as he watched his brother, crouched on all fours, head hanging low.

"They're still comin'."

The rough croak made him jump, the stillness broken as the younger man sank back onto his haunches and Dean shook himself, scrambled over to him, grimacing at the dark streaks of blood trailing from Sam's nose and ears.

"I know. You gonna make it down? Or've I gotta carry your heavy ass?"

Sam huffed, rolled his eyes and pushed himself up against Dean's shoulder, took two wobbly, shaky steps forward before he stopped, ticked his head to the side.

"You hear that?"

Dean froze halfway to his own feet, listening hard, blinking away a moment of deja vu, standing outside their motel room listening for the tiny, thin cry.

Christ, was that only yesterday?

"I got nothin'."

"They've stopped."

Sam sounded almost wondering, distant and the older man pushed up again, squinted into his face. His eyes were unfocused, glassy and Dean growled, tugged at his brother's arm.

"Whatever. Let's get to the freakin' lake, huh?"

Sam nodded, still gazing out at the smoke and Dean yanked the bag from his shoulder, had to drag him over to the edge of the low cliff, push him down the path that switchbacked down to the rocky shore, a few yards below. He froze when he realized he could see his shadow, looked up, watched the smoke blowing away in a breeze he couldn't feel, tattered and lacy as it rolled back and his skin crawled as he thought, they're doin' that. They want to be able to see us.

It wasn't exactly reassuring and he didn't wait for Sam to reach the bottom of the path, following close on the younger man's heels, crowding him away from the cliff, watching the sky nervously.

"What the hell?"

He slid a glance at his brother, saw him blinking, pulling his arm out of Dean's grasp to rub at his eyes but he seemed aware again, swiping irritably at the blood that still tricked down over his lips.

"I dunno. But it can't be anythin' good. Come on."

They turned, began to jog to the lake, the rough beach littered with broken bottles, charred remains of barbeques. Dean searched for the others, found Kate already standing thigh deep in the water with Petey in her arms, Tommy clutching her waist, the water up to his chin.

Crap, that better be deep enough.

A cry behind him cut off the thought, ripe with victory and bloodlust and he cringed, snatched a look back over one shoulder and saw them swarming down the cliff, scattered tendrils of smoke clinging to them. They made no effort to hide the gaping wounds that had killed their hosts and he almost gagged when he saw one of them stop, a woman, her stomach slashed open, greyish loops of her guts snagging on a rock until she wrenched free.

He looked away sharply, clamped his jaw shut, heard Sam swallow thickly as they scrambled over the rough shoreline and he knew there wasn't enough time, mind blank when he tried to find a way to slow the demons behind them down.

"You gotta... do the ritual," his brother panted, catching at his arm for balance as a stone turned beneath him.

"What?"

"Dean, you gotta do the ritual. Three times, okay? Bless the water three times!"

"Sam, wait!"

He reached out, snatched for the younger man's sleeve but Sam was gone, his fingers closing on empty air as his brother spun away, stretched one arm out in front of him. Dean swore viciously as the first wave of demons crumpled to the ground, smoke pouring from their mouths, smothering their cries and he hesitated for a moment until Sam turned back, glowered at him.

"Dean! Go!"

"Fuck."

He went, even though it felt like he was tearing his heart out of his chest and stamping over it as he lunged forward, splashed into the lake and found himself knee deep in thick, oily sludge, so bitterly cold it sank deep into his legs, ached clear up to his hips.

What the hell?

It had to be the seal, cracking and failing, tainting the water. He shivered, dug into the bag and pulled out the leather-bound book, a heavy chalice, a rosary clattering inside the cup and the fouled liquid burned as he plunged the chalice under the surface, his fingers cramping. His teeth began to chatter as he mumbled the ritual, attention fixed to the shore and his brother, standing tall in the middle of the rough beach, day old corpses piling up at the base of the cliff as he ripped the demons out of them.

Jesus, Sammy, hold on, he thought, chanted faster but the words were ancient, unfamiliar and he kept tripping over them until he made himself turn away, eyes burning as he glanced up and saw Kate staring at the beach, her face drawn with horror and grief.

Shifting his stance as the water roiled around him, he poured the cleansed water from the chalice back into the lake, shouted the last words of the ritual, his voice cracking harshly and he waited for a rush of power, for the screams of the demons as they were sucked back to Hell but there was nothing, just the sluggish ripples breaking around his legs, the clear water he'd poured into the lake already swallowed up.

It didn't work.

"Aw, hell," he groaned, spun, tripping over the rough lake bed, splashing the thick, tarry water everywhere as he flailed to keep his balance and almost lost it as soon as he found it when he saw his brother on his knees, one hand braced on the ground, the other shaking in mid-air.

"Sam. No."

Even as he stared, the cold air coming off the water stinging his eyes, he saw his brother sag, clench his upheld hand into a fist, back arching as he coughed and he could see the dark splatters on the rocks beneath Sam, felt his heart slam to a halt as he watched his brother hack up a mouthful of gore, spitting it out with a low cry, thinned by the distance between them.

"God, Sammy, stop. Stop it."

Another clutch of demons crashed to the ground, screaming and writhing, black smoke flowing like oil over the rocks and he started running, heard splashing behind him. A quick glance showed him Kate surging through the lake, dragging Tommy in her wake, face white and taut but determined and he could have laughed, puppy dog eyes do it again, but his brother was sliding down to the ground, choking and gasping so he just ran, threw himself through the tainted lake, perpetually teetering on the edge of falling, somehow keeping his feet.

When he finally made it out of the lake he lengthened his stride, three long, lunging paces and then he let himself drop, sliding in beside his brother as Sam curled weakly onto his side.

"Jesus, Sammy."

He didn't know where to touch, hands darting from the fist still hovering a foot above the ground, knuckles bleached with the force of Sam's grip, the younger man's blood hot and slick under his fingers when Dean finally eased his hand under Sam's head, cradled it in his lap for a moment and tried hard not to remember the way his brother's weight had settled against him, heavy and hollow and crushing. In the back of his mind he remembered shouldering the awful burden, stumbling for mile after mile over endless hills made of razor-edged iron, shapes he couldn't ever quite make out cackling as they darted in to tear at his body and the sun never set, hanging low and swollen in the sky, blistering, charring his skin...

"Oh god, oh my god, is he? He's dead, he's – "

Kate's soft cry wrenched him back and he jolted, curled his brother into his chest tightly, refused to let himself check his skin for burns.

"He's not dead," he snapped over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of Tommy standing in the shallows, Petey clutched to his side behind her. His heart lodged in his throat as he fought down the tremors the memory sent rippling down his spine. "He's gonna be fine."

A hand wobbled up, wound shaky fingers into his shirt and he laughed shakily, tried to smile but it was more of a grimace and he let it slide away, looked down, met his brother's dazed stare.

"Dee..."

"I'm here, Sammy."

"Gotta... stop them. I gotta stop..."

Dean shook his head, jaw tight as he stared at his brother, blood smeared across the younger man's face, gray with exhaustion, pinched and haggard.

"No, Sam. No way. You'll kill yourself."

"No... 's n'other way."

As if in answer, a chill curled up his back, crept into his lungs and heart and he shivered, held himself utterly still for a moment, saw the shadows twist around his vision thicken. He could almost see them, figures inside the darkness, reaching out for him, long fingers beckoning, whispers scraping at his mind like claws scratching at the door.

It's too dangerous, man, you know it is. You can't control it.

He blinked his vision clear, pushed his brother's voice and theirs away until all he could hear was his heartbeat, quick and loud, let himself take a second to think, desperate plans flickering through his mind but all of them ended in ruins, the seal cracked as their blood spilled on the shore.

All of them but one, and he nodded fractionally as he decided.

"Sorry, Sammy," he breathed, holding his brother tight. "My turn."

"Dean. No."

He pushed up as Sam muttered it, barely more than a moan, pulling his brother with him.

"Kate. Take him into the lake, get them as deep as you can. You hear me? As deep as you can!"

He didn't know where the certainty that the water would protect them came from, even though the ritual hadn't worked, he just felt it bone-deep, shoved Sam at her and waited until she began staggering away, one of the tall hunter's arms slung over her shoulders, his feet dragging across the shore and into the lake. Already, he was stirring, even as Dean watched he could see his brother's legs start to pull beneath him, trembling as they took his weight and he soaked up the sight, drank it in as if it was the water they'd eternally denied him in that iron desert.

His lips stretched in a wan smile as Sam pulled away from Kate, twisting back, listing into her as he searched for Dean's gaze and the older man waited for the connection, felt the subtle jolt and realized he hadn't felt it in so long.

You never really see me any more, he thought, watched his brother understand, agony shifting in Sam's eyes. Not since Pontiac. And god, he'd missed it, it was as if the world settled back into place, as if it had been tilted off its axis for so many months, secrets and distance between them growing and he'd barely even noticed it until now. He saw Sam's mouth shape his name, let his smile spread and shrugged, spread his hands a little, made it cocksure and arrogant when they wanted to shake, to shiver with the chill that was already creeping up his spine.

I don't want to do this, he thought, choked down a whimper as he turned, legs buckling with the cold that surged up. God help me, I don't want to do this. Please.

"Cas," he whispered, saw them surging over the edge of the cliff. "Cas, help me. I'm beggin' you here."

There was no rush of wings, no presence at his back and he shook his head, jaw tight, a sharp ache in his throat.

"Screw you then."

And he snarled at them as he broke into a sprint, boots pounding over rocks and shattered glass, ice roaring through his blood, tingling down into his fingers as he threw his arms up and out, as if he was running to embrace them.

Behind him, he heard Sam shout, frantic, desperate, and deep in his mind, a low murmur, never said goodbye, shuddered as he realized he couldn't tell if it was his own thought or alien.

The cold slammed out of him, a wall of fury that screamed over the last few feet separating him from the demons and he skidded to a halt, bit back a cry as he burned with the cold, squeezed his eyes shut as shadows swept up around him, consumed him with a howl of desire and gloating triumph that rang inside his skull and turned his stomach. He swallowed acid, groaned as something poured into him, filled him and suddenly thought no, no I was wrong, stop it stopitSTOPIT and by then it was far, far too late.

He was drowning, smothered in shadows that laughed and sang as they choked him and he never felt his knees crash into the rocks as he fell, a blast of ice freezing the lake. He never saw the demons torn out of their hosts in a writhing, baying mass that tattered away into nothing, the silence that followed so thick it was almost tangible, stone cracking as hoarfrost silvered the beach and it sounded like gunshots in the hush, like something fracturing, sundered.

Like the world breaking.

~~HoC~~

EndNotes: Thanks for your patience! I'm gonna post the last chapter now, so you haven't even got the cliffie to worry about! (Well, I figure I've given you enough of them in the story so far!)