Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to cold kagome, jensengirl4eva, BranchSuper, SandyDee84, Kynstar and QuierdoMusic for reviewing the last chapter.

Chapter 11: Silver Doesn't Solve Everything

"So Gabriel's alive?"

Sam looks startled at the question. I have to admit that, coming out of the blue when we're in the middle of trying to pinpoint the likeliest location to find the werewolf, it's more than a little strange.

"I thought you knew that."

"I knew because the bitch told me, when her sidekick was busy beating the crap out of you. I didn't know before that... I don't think Cas knows."

Yeah. Cas. I still haven't really forgiven him for being so callous about Sam being dead, but he can be helpful sometimes. He turns up now and then, chats a bit about what things are like upstairs, God still missing – and from what I can tell, he thinks both Michael and Gabriel are gone for good.

Makes me wonder about Michael –

"Yeah, Gabriel's alive. I don't think he ever really died, actually."

"What happened, then?"

"From what I understand of it, it was kind of like it was when you stabbed him back in –"

"Not that, Sam. We thought he was dead, he isn't, whatever. I'm not interested in the metaphysics. What happened with you and him and the crossroads demon?"

"Oh... that."

"Yeah. That."

"Do we have to have this conversation now, Dean? I'd've thought it could wait until after we've dealt with the murderous shapeshifting monster."

"Now, Sam. Look, the bitch has been hanging around outside for the last two days. Yeah, we're ready for her this time, and we've got the tattoos and I'm pretty sure that even without the tattoo she wouldn't be able to possess you. But we're going after the werewolf tonight and I don't want any unpleasant surprises – so I need to know everything you know about her."

Sam sighs.

"OK, then. Someone summoned her when I was working a job in Arkansas – bunch of vampires, not the nonviolent variety. Anyway, I went to the nearest bar after I finished the job. It was on a busy intersection – no way anyone should have been able to summon a demon there, but apparently the guy was a construction worker and he drilled through in the middle of the night. Told everyone who asked that he was doing repair work. He summoned her, she hung around offering deals to people."

"And she stepped into the bar and offered you one."

There's a shrug. "Apparently that's kind of a standing order for them."

"You mean any demon we come across is going to be trying to get you to make a deal to go back to Lucifer's –"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Oh... So not good. Once this werewolf's out of the way, I'm taking Sam to Florida or somewhere for a vacation. I'm going to turn off my cell phone, if he starts researching jobs I'm going to throw his laptop into the Atlantic Ocean, and we are going to take an actual break. And we are not going anywhere near any demon-related jobs ever again.

"So? What happened?"

"What do you think? I said no – at that point she was just offering me the standard stuff. Money, girls, money and girls, you know the thing. She followed me when I left. I started the exorcism but before I could get more than two lines into it, she... Well, she said she could see to it that you'd always have everything you needed to be happy, everything you wanted... Except me." I force myself not to say anything. This is not the time. "I didn't really pay attention at first, just went on with the exorcism. But... well, she kept talking."

Always a danger with an exorcism. Demons get scared, they start making promises, some hunters are stupid enough to fall for them... Things go sideways.

But in Sam's case it could've been avoided pretty easily.

"Why didn't you just Obi-wan her? Uriel's gone, and the rest of the upstairs people are probably willing to overlook an infraction or two in self-defence."

Sam gives me one of those yeah right looks and goes on as though I never asked the question. "It got... well, I was willing to hear her out. She said you'd get everything you wanted, no demon would ever go after you or try to hurt you in any way."

"And you said..."

"Gabriel was hanging around. Wanted my help with something. He'd been loitering in the bar – probably picking up girls or scrounging back issues of Weekly World News – and he came out and blasted her."

"Before or after you said no?"

Sam won't look at me. "He exorcised her before I could say anything."

"OK." I take a deep breath. Then another. I must not raise my voice. "OK, Sam, she tries to hurt you or even look at you the wrong way while we're on this, you do whatever you have to. If the angels have problems, we'll deal with them later."

This time he does meet my eyes. "No."

"No?" I will never understand the kid. Never. "What the hell, Sam? When I try to stop you from using your mojo because you're freaking out God,you just go on doing it behind my back, and now when I tell you to do it to save yourself going another round against that bitch you have a problem with it? What's going on?"

"Dean –"

"No." Sam's puppy-dog eyes definitely don't work when it's a question of his safety. "I'm not letting this go. What's wrong?"

"Am I interrupting something?"

The voice is unexpected and way too close for comfort. I spin, gun in one hand and Ruby's knife in the other, but fortunately I realize who it is before I can squeeze off a shot.

"Cas! What the hell have I told you about personal space?"

"I am sorry. There were people in the corridor outside. Perhaps I should have materialized on the roof and knocked on the ceiling?"

It takes me a moment to realize he's not joking.

"No, just... what is it?"

Cas looks from me to Sam and back, questioning. When he gets no answer, he says, "I want to know about lawyers."

"Well, you've come to the right place," I tell him, glancing at my brother. "But what do you want with lawyers? Is someone suing you guys for wrongful smiting?"

"Suing?"

"Never mind. Sam – all yours."

Ignoring the death-glare Sam sends me, I grab his laptop and go to a chair by the window to read his notes in peace, leaving him to explain the justice system to our friend.

Half an hour later, Cas looks more confused than ever before and Sam's hair is standing on end from the number of times he's run his hands through it in frustration. I can't resist snickering as I look at them – if anyone could make an angel stop looking all-knowing, it's my brother the geek.

"Progress?" I ask.

"I don't understand," Cas says. "These people sue each other for reparation for damages. And lawyers are disinterested parties who argue their cases? Why?"

I can't resist grinning at Sam. "You'll have to ask pre-law over there."

"He said something about debate and the importance of the justice system and the right to legal representation –"

"Yeah, he would. I'll tell you why, Cas. Money. If Mr. Right-to-Legal-Representation ever goes back to school and gets his law degree, he'll charge people – what, Sammy, a thousand dollars an hour? – just to think about their cases."

Cas shakes his head, and then he's gone. I glance at Sam.

"Still sucks at goodbyes."

Sam's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

We spend the rest of the day going over the hunt, planning, preparing, making sure we have backup plans. From everything Sam's read, the alpha werewolf is way more dangerous than a regular one, stronger and smarter and harder to take down. It's definitely not going to be possible to trap it in a cage or behind a locked door.

I don't like the plan we've got, which involves Sam acting as bait. If I could put a stop to it... But the kid's got a point. This werewolf has evaded capture, if his research is accurate, literally for centuries, and it's not like some of the best hunters in the world haven't tried. There's no way we can get to it unless it wants to get to us. Besides... He's an adult, and although he probably would listen to me if I really put my foot down, I don't want to go there.

All the same, I warn him, "If things start to go sideways, Sammy, the bullets don't work or something like that, we are calling an end to it and you are getting out."

"Dean –"

"It's that or we're not going. There's no point looking at me like that, Sam. I don't care how old you are. I'm still older. Means when it comes to your safety, I get the last word."

Sam glares at me, and I'm afraid he's going to fight me on this. I don't know what I'll do if he does – I mean, what can you do with an eight-foot Sasquatch who's decided he's going to be stubborn? It's not like I can keep him here by force.

But in the end he sighs and shrugs. "Fine."

"Fine?" I try not to sound too astonished. "That's it? No tricks?"

"No tricks. If the bullets don't work or it gets too dangerous, I'll get out." Should I push my luck now when he's in this mood? I wouldn't if it were just something I wanted, but this is Sam's wellbeing we're talking about. "Sammy, if the demon shows up –"

"No." It's almost a growl, and his eyes are warning me to back off, but I can't. Not on this.

"Sam." Maybe a reasonable argument will work. He was just explaining the legal system to Castiel, after all. "You used your mojo to disintegrate her gun. Doesn't look like the angels minded. Why can't you just exorcise her if she threatens you?" Suddenly something else strikes me. "If it comes to that, why didn't you take her toys to pieces a lot earlier? Would have saved yourself a lot of trouble." Pause. "Sammy?"

"I didn't want to." Sam's voice is low, hoarse, and raw with so much pain it makes my heart ache just to listen to him. "I didn't want you to – to – not be able to trust me or something like that. I just couldn't... when she had the gun on you... I couldn't let her hurt you. I can't lose you again."

So Sam will use his abilities for my sake but not for his own. Figures.

"Sam, I can't believe –" I stop short, you'd be that stupid dying on my tongue when Sam flinches. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam looks up, all hurt and guilt and misery, and it's a look I've seen before.

It's a look I've seen before. I didn't really notice it then – I was too busy feeling sorry for myself – but now that I do, it's even more deadly than the puppy-dog eyes. The puppy-dog eyes just make me give Sam whatever he's asking for. This look says You know that job you're so proud of, Dean? Big brother? You screwed up. Know something else? You hurt Sam.

This is making me remember the last time, when I was in the panic room telling Sam I didn't believe in him, didn't believe he'd be able to resist Lucifer.

I hate irony. I especially hate the ironic things that happen in our lives, because they all seem to result in Sam getting freak visions or Sam having demon blood withdrawal or Sam on his knees in the mud –

NO!

You know what really is strange? With all the times we've died, neither of us has died alone. Sam bled out in my arms at Cold Oaks, and he met my eyes before he let himself fall into the Pit. And with the hellhounds ripping at me...

God, Sam saw that.

I suppose it's not surprising that I never realized that before. For a second, just a second, I dare to imagine what would happen if I had to watch Sam being torn apart by invisible dogs while I could only shout his name hopelessly and beg him to –

"Dean?" Sam sounds puzzled.

"I believe in you, Sam." Chick-flick? Sure. But this is a dangerous hunt, and things might go sideways, and if the very worst happens and I have to bury Sam tomorrow... Well, I'm not going to do it knowing that I didn't even try to get that miserable look off his face when I had the chance. "Maybe that's why you were meant to be Lucifer's vessel." Sam flinches, because that's something we don't talk about ever. "Saying no to him was never the point. I said no to Michael, and look how much good that did. Just got myself out of it and Adam in it. The point was saying yes to him and trapping him. And... I don't think anyone else could've done that. I'm proud of you, Sammy. I always have been. You know that, don't you?"

Sam grins his big goofy grin at me, and suddenly it's not the twenty-eight-year-old hunter with the coolest head in the country and a hand that never shakes. It's Sammy, thrilled to pieces that he's managed to impress his big brother... Yeah, maybe in other families they do it with Ivy League degrees and baseball, and with us it's sacrificing yourself to save the world.

Who the hell cares? Sam's happy.

"Come on, kid." I toss him a bag weighed down with guns and silver bullets. There's also iron, salt, and plain old-fashioned lead slugs, because silver doesn't solve everything. "We've got work to do."

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!