A/N: I'm so sorry this is two days late! My best friend is moving, and I've been helping her after work every night, and my son just started third grade, so this week has been crazy. Okay, next chapter of All The Pretty Monsters. I am not one-hundred percent happy with the Sam/Dean interaction, but I am not sure there are words dramatic enough to convey how emotional that moment would have been. It is literally what's been holding the story up, so I decided to just push through. If something comes to me that is better, I will rewrite that section and notify you guys, but I felt like the story would stall if I didn't simply get it on paper. Also, remember, it's a dream (and the great thing about dreams is that the most ludicrous, insane things can almost seem mundane, so I am taking full advantage of that, sorry if Dean seems OOC, but this chapter was really hard), so they will actually meet for the first time twice! I promise the first in person meeting will be very dramatic.

Reviews are love, because this chapter is really almost upsetting me.

As Always,

EverReader

Disclaimer: Not my sandbox

All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 11

"The Heart of the Matter"

Dean swallowed, still beyond words, but Ava continued relentlessly.

"One month topside, Dean, that's the equivalent of ten years in hell. That's how long they had to work on us down there. At first, it was just torture. They strap you on a rack, and they carve you up. They cut you open, and everything you ever were bleeds out onto the floor. When they pull you off and toss you into your cell, you pray, to God, to Allah, to Lucifer. You don't care if only it would stop. But then you wake up, the next day, all bright and shiny and new, a blank canvas to be painted red all over again."

She paused, eyes far away.

"You scream and you beg, until they cut out your tongue and you choke on your own blood. Sometimes they wear their own faces, but sometimes they look like someone else. Imagine your mother, your father, your brother, hands covered in your blood, Dean. Over and over again, until you don't remember what the wind feels like, or the sun and the rain. You don't remember music, or Christmas, or safety. So, eventually, some of us stopped waking up the next day. They weren't strong enough. They're a part of that place now, Dean. They were kids, and the demons took them away, and now they can never come back. That's hell."

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The psychic stared at the man in front of her with disgust.

"I told you to leave and never come back seven years ago, John Winchester, and I sure as hell meant it."

John strode forward, eyes burning with intensity. "Is it true, Missouri, has Sam returned? How is that possible? Is he a demon?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, John, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I warned you when he was just a baby that he was special, and that they were after him, but you took him with you anyway. You had to know you couldn't keep him safe, keep him hidden if you dragged him along on some crusade to avenge Mary. Mary was gone, John, and she entrusted her boys' safekeeping to you."

John shook his head adamantly. "I prepared Sam, trained him as best I could. He just wasn't strong enough to fight the demons off."

She reached out, lightning quick and slapped the startled man. "You can lie to yourself, John Winchester, but you can't lie to me. That boy was bait. Any of the other hunters, his brother, you never went to anyone to help you protect him. You never warned him. You used your child as bait, pure and simple."

He scowled. "He was tainted, Missouri. You said it yourself, there was something dark inside him."

She scowled back, eyes lit with a passion of their own. "So you left your child in hell. And all the other children too. I don't know what you could have done, John, but even you think your actions were wrong, that's why you never told Dean where his brother was."

"None of that matters now!" He shouted at her. "He's back, Missouri, and I have to know where he is, how to stop him. I won't let my son be used by that yellowed-eyed hell spawn."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have abandoned him when the demon stole him. I've told you John, I don't know where he is, or what he's planning. I'm not even sure entirely what he is, and neither are the spirits. But they're very clear on what he wants."

"What?" John demanded.

She looked at him steadily. "What you taught him, John. He wants revenge."

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Sam studied his siblings, gauging their moods. From Lily he could sense trepidation, echoed faintly in Max, though Max was far more stoic.

Andy was troubled, while Anselm was completely impassive, Dante sitting watchfully at his side.

Jake was restless, hands and feet moving continually, though Sam wasn't one hundred percent sure whether that was anxiety and unease, or just Jake being stuck topside.

Ava, of course, was a ball of furious, frantic motion, her smoldering rage actually raising the temperature of the room a few degrees, canceling the cold still emanating from Sam.

Sam himself was an uncomfortable mix of emotions, most of which were foreign to him.

"Take it from the top." He ordered, and they complied.

"He went to see the psychic, Missouri Mosely, in your hometown." Max said.

Andy tilted his head thoughtfully. "She's the one Azazel mentioned. He said she told your father about us, about what happened to us."

"And he did nothing!" Ava fumed. "How dare they call him righteous!"

"Ava." Sam said it was quiet, stern authority and she quieted obediently, but he knew she wasn't finished.

One of Azazel's favorite games had been to torment Ava with the knowledge that someone knew what had happened to them, and yet did nothing. For some reason, this struck a cord in her, more than the others, and Azazel had not been one to pass on exploiting a weakness.

"So what do we do about him?" Jake asked, all business as usual.

"Let Ava kill him?" Anselm suggested mildly. "We know Dean is also righteous, and much more likely to play ball with us anyway. He's a threat to us. Eliminate him."

"We can't." Lily argued quietly, Max nodding and Sam guessed she was speaking his thoughts for him.

"Unless Metatron revealed the first seal and what it has to do with a righteous man, we can't risk him. John and Dean are the only two we know of, and hunting is a dangerous business. We can't kill one carelessly and find out later Dean can't complete the task. We know a righteous man will be needed to cure Lilith, and she can't even leave until the first seal is broken."

Sam nodded. "Lily and Max are right. We know we need a righteous man for two separate tasks. It may very well turn out that the same righteous man can complete both tasks, but they are too rare a resource to waste."

"And if he comes after us?" Ava asked coldly. Sam studied her.

"If he comes after any of you directly, end him. Fast and brutal. No holds barred. We won't hunt him down, but neither will he hunt us. It shouldn't come to that. We're faster, smarter, better armed and more knowledgeable. We've been following him for weeks. It's trickier now, but nothing we weren't prepared for. And if he tries to harm us and fails, then Dean is more likely to view us favorably. We've assisted him several times now."

"It's you he wants, Sam. Not any of us." Andy said, watching Sam carefully.

"Yes, but most of you have helped him now. The Dean I remember would have trouble ignoring that. We've never pretended to be good guys, but it's going to tricky to convince Dean that neither is my father. I want him to meet you, see you. Put faces to the names he's read. When he's ready, I'll go to him."

Sam turned to Ava. "Report."

Swallowing down her anger, she replied "He confirmed, he is, in fact the Arch Angel Gabriel."

The others digested this in silence for a moment, Sam staring at his map. "And the plan?' he said finally.

"Worked perfectly." She answered. "He's bored, and lonely. Now he's interested. No idea where he will come down, but he will eventually engage. He's a hell of a fighter, too. Neither one of us were really trying, but he was good. Almost too good. The other arch angels will be dangerous enemies."

"Then you'll need this." Sam replied, throwing Metatron's angel blade at her.

She caught it neatly, eyes lighting up. "This should be Lily's, though." She said, a troubled look coming over her face.

Lily smiled. "That's the best part. I'm immune. And maybe I can't kill one yet, but I can hurt them, badly. You use it, you're the one playing cat and mouse with the messenger of the lord."

"What about Dean?" Jake asked, looking troubled. "I'm not sure how good he actually is."

Ava nodded, but Andy looked thoughtful.

"A lot will depend on what happens when he interacts with John. We have no reason to expect anything but antagonism from John, so until we see how Dean reacts to him, we really have no idea what to expect."

Lily tilted her head inquiringly at Max, then looked at Sam. "Have you had any visions?"

"Not since the last one, before I sent Jake and Andy to help Dean." He replied, watching her carefully.

Everyone of his siblings brought something to the table, and he made it a point to listen to their thoughts. In the end, he would make the final decisions, but they all had valuable insights.

"What if you visit his dreams one more time. You took the guise of your younger self once before. What if you didn't this time. Gauge his reaction." Lily said.

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"I may do just that. In the meantime, we need to hunt down the last two ingredients for Metatron's spell. Anselm, I want you to work on locating a Nephilim. Max and Lily, you two will search for a cupid. Jake, we need to return to the search for the colt. Andy, we need to revisit the Catholic Church angle. They have the best records. We need information on every possible seal, the angels themselves, and the Demon Cure. We also need to work out the purposes of the Righteous Man."

"And what about me?" Ave said, eyes narrowed.

Sam smiled grimly. "I expect our angel friend will keep you busy enough. But in the meantime, Metatron told us some interesting things about prophets."

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Dean was dreaming again. The colors were too vibrant, the sounds just a little too indistinct. So he knew he was dreaming, but this time it wasn't about anyplace he recognized.

He was on a rooftop overlooking a city. It was dark, the deep dark that only came after midnight, and though stars sprinkled the sky, the night was moonless.

His boots crunched in the gravel sprinkled across the roof, and he walked closer to the edge, studying the skyline. He didn't recognize the silhouettes of the buildings in the distance, but this was a dream, after all, so perhaps it wasn't a real city.

"It's real." A broken-velvet voice said from behind him, and Dean froze in disbelief. He recognized that voice, though it was different, older, so much older than seven years somehow.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was choked, breaking on the single word as he pivoted around to face the man behind him.

It was dark, so dark Dean could barely make out his features, and Christ, he was tall, he'd never even imagined Sammy would get so tall.

"This is a dream, though." Sam agreed, coming forward to stand beside Dean casually, taking in the view.

"Sammy." Dean choked out again, unable to make it past that one single word, and this was the best and worst dream of his life.

"I prefer Sam." Sam's voice was quiet and calm, yet something about it sounded like steel and ice and fire and not-Sam.

Dean reached out to grab Sam's shoulders, to hug him or hit him, he wasn't sure which, but it was like one of those horrible nightmares where the more you want to move the harder it is.

Everything felt surreal, and slightly distant, and Dean wondered if it was the dream that was muffling his emotions somewhat. He couldn't understand why else he wasn't yelling and pleading and bleeding, because, God knew, that what he felt like most of the time anyway.

"If you fight too hard, I won't be able to maintain this dream." Sam said idly, and Dean's mind came to a screeching, screaming halt.

"Are you saying this is real?" Dean demanded.

"It's really a dream." Sam acknowledged. "Andy said you needed to see me. This is the best I can do under the circumstances."

"Where are you? I'll come to you. Just tell me where you are and I'll-" Dean's rambling words were cut off as Sam turned to him suddenly. The starlight offered a dim illumination, illustrating a handsome, boyish face made of deep cheekbones and harsh angles. It shouldn't have worked at all, yet it was striking, beautiful even.

"Dean." Sam's voice was low, commanding. "I can't come to you, and you know it. I'm a demon, Dean. I know that Andy told you. I and the other children who escaped came back as demons. It's too dangerous for us to meet. I have enemies, and now that John has resurfaced, you don't need my protection."

"Screw your protection." Dean shouted. "I want to see you, Sammy. I've been looking for you for seven years, Sam. Every day. I never stopped. And now you're back, and if I have to search every god damned city in the world, I'm going to find you."

"Don't." Sam commanded lowly, and Dean flinched from his tone. "You have to understand this, Dean. I went to hell. I can never be what I was before. For your own sake, tell yourself that your brother died in hell, because I am not that little boy, Dean. He died, lifetimes ago. I'm someone else, something else. I only came to warn you. Things are moving quickly now. Be careful, be on alert. Don't trust anyone, not other Demons, not hunters, not Da- anyone." Sam corrected himself, but Dean caught his meaning anyway.

"What do you mean, don't trust Dad?" He cried, alarmed.

Sam took a step away. "Everyone would use you for their own purposes, Dean. Be careful."

Dawn was cresting the horizon, though Dean was certain he'd only been on the rooftop for a few moments. That breaking light painted Sam's features, and Dean's breath caught.

It was Sammy, and yet, it wasn't.

He looked beautiful and half-feral. His lips were the same shape, yet they were held more firmly now. The hair was still overlong, but suddenly, staring at his brother, Dean couldn't picture it any other way.

But his eyes were the worst. The were deep, deep like the ocean or a black hole, greys and greens and blues and browns a kaleidoscope of color, like oil on water. They were captivating, and so, so cold.

They studied Dean intently, and Dean felt stripped bare, like he was naked in front of a thousand people, with all his deepest, darkest secrets exposed.

"Are you really a demon?" Dean said, and oh, his voice hadn't sounded so young in years, he was a grown man, but in that moment he was that little lost four year old all over again.

Sam tilted his head. "I am...really a demon. And so are my siblings."

"I'm your sibling!" Dean countered instinctively, heart hammering with the absolute wrongness of Sam's words.

He thought he'd been ready, but he wasn't, would never, could never have been ready to look at his kid and see the familiar eyes of a stranger.

"The others are more like me now than you can ever be." Sam said the words simply, without malice, without any emotion whatsoever, as if he were commenting on the weather, and Dean railed against his body's refusal to move, because he needed to pace, and punch and maybe jump off the goddamned roof.

"What does that mean?" Dean forced himself to breathe, to approach this like a case, to gather information.

He'd been going into this like an emotional teenager, but obviously, Sam wasn't and if Dean wanted answers, wanted to try and find someway to fix Sam he would need information.

But, oh God, this hurt. Looking at his brother hurt.

"We survived something unsurvivable. And now we are different. We are not what you are." Sam tuned away, walking to the far edge, and Dean panicked, sensing Sam pull away from him. All his good intentions about being calm, being smart flew out the window.

"Please, Sam. Just...please." Dean trailed off, beyond words, and Sam stopped, turning to look at him.

'What do you want from me, Dean?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "I want my brother back!" He said.

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "Your brother died, Dean. All I have his memories and his name."

"That's not true." Dean denied vehemently, surprising even himself. "You've been trying to protect me all this time, Sam. Why, if not because you're still my brother."

Sam paused, looking troubled. "Don't trust anyone, Dean. Not me, not my siblings, not Dad. There are no good guys in this battle. Stay alive, stay armed, keep your eyes and ears open. Assume everyone is lying to you."

"You're not actually telling me anything." Dean argued.

"I'm telling you how to survive, Dean. It's one thing I excel at. You're been running around, drinking, talking to the wrong people. Chasing every lead no matter how dangerous. If you continue, you're going to get killed. That's the only truth there is in this whole mess." Sam's voice was cold, as hard as steel, and Dean couldn't help but shudder. He pushed on nonetheless.

"I won't give up on you." Dean insisted.

And it was true.

Suddenly, Dean had no more doubts. Demon or not, different though he was, acted, looked, Sam was still trying to protect Dean, even if he didn't realize it.

Sam was still in there somewhere, and that was all Dean needed to know.

"You're my brother." Dean stated, suddenly free of the worry, the anxiety. "And you're back, wherever the hell you are, and you might as well come to me in person, because I will never stop looking for you. That's all there is to it.

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Sam ended the dream abruptly, partially because he was surprisingly rattled by Dean's words, which, while not completely unexpected, had wrought a surprisingly unexpected set of emotions in Sam.

However, the second reason he ended the dream was slightly more pressing and he sat up from where he was laying on the roof of his building looking over Seattle.

He was no longer alone.

He stood smoothly, impassive mask effortlessly sliding back into place and he faced the intruder.

He studied her for a minute, before relaxing. "Isabel." He acknowledged as she sauntered forward. "i though you might turn up sooner rather than later."

"New body, new name." She reminded him with a wicked smile as she stood in front of him and he smiled at the reminder that she liked to take on not just the body, but the life and name of whatever host she had at the moment.

"So sorry." He smirked. "The blond hair threw me off. You've been Isabel for what, a decade now? So, what exactly should I call you?

Her grin widened, her eyes flickering ebony dark for a moment.

"You'll get a kick out of this." She pursed her lips, obviously pleased with herself.

Sam tilted his head questioningly.

"Just call me Meg." She said, her voice all broken, jagged edges and rose petals.

Sam laughed out loud. "You've come full circle, sister." He said and she shrugged.

"I can do better than that, Sam." She paused dramatically. He raised a brow.

"Azazel revealed the first seal, and little brother, it's gonna be a hell of a party. You might regret making that deal with Bela after all. Because know I know why Lilith bought her contract, even though it was risky."

Sam's face lost it's laughter, his eyes sharpening, and Meg felt the shifting power around him.

Looking up at him, she said "It's innocent blood, Sam. Bela would have been the most innocent blood in hell since the hounds brought you home. And father and Lilith need her. The Righteous Man has to spill innocent blood in hell. That's the first seal."

"The Righteous Man has a one-way ticket to heaven." Sam argued.

She raised a brow. "It's not supposed to be easy to pop the box Sam. But now we know the key to the first lock."