Author's Note: Many thanks to Evenmoor, lljn105, sam's folly, DaughterOfPoseidon333, sara1988, agent iz hyper, ESwan, and KnightJellyofCamelot for your fantastic reviews. And thank you everyone for sticking with this story this far. A few more chapters to go. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eleven: Show Time

Dean looked at the items spread out over the coffee table and felt anxious to get started. Ellen had told him that most rituals worked best after sundown, but he was getting impatient. He also had to admit, but only to himself, that he was nervous that it wouldn't work. That he'd be stuck in this perfect world that wasn't his. He felt that if he had to see two wonderful children, living parents who loved him, Ellen and Jo, and other perfect things that could never really belong to him for much longer, he was going to go insane with grief. Dean just wanted to get back to his own crappy life where he could bury all of his emotions and try to forget his failures.

"Are you alright?"

Dean looked up to find his (no she wasn't his) mom standing next to him. "Yeah, everything's great."

"If that's the best lying you're capable of it's no wonder Sam knew something wasn't right."

"Nah, I could do better, just don't care to right now."

"You're tired."

"Didn't get much sleep last night."

"I meant emotionally."

"My emotions are wide awake, thank you."

Mary smiled sadly. "This is hard for you isn't it."

Dean was about to blow her off with another wise ass comment, but one look in her eyes changed his mind. She was giving him the same kind of look she used to when he was little and had had a nightmare or was bullied at the playground. A look of understanding and unconditional love. The look of a parent.

"You have no idea."

"No, I don't. Nobody does, do they. Something tells me you don't open up to people much."

"You could say that."

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Thanks, but…"

"Maybe I shouldn't have posed it as a question. You really should talk to someone. You carry a lot on your shoulders, I can see that. And it's not just related to this situation."

"Yeah, well, not a fan of the chick flick moment. No offense."

"Talking to your mother is not a 'chick flick moment'. And before you say it, yes I am your mother. Because you're Dean, and any Mary Winchester would be proud to call you her son."

"How can you say that? I'm a hunter. I know you never wanted that for your kids and…"

"You're right, I didn't. But I don't blame you for how your life turned out. You seem like you've done the best anyone could hope to do under the circumstances. I'm proud of you, Dean. Any mother would be lucky to have a son like you. Don't ever forget that."

"I'm going to miss you, mom. Actually, I don't think I've ever stopped missing you." Dean fought to control his voice from breaking as the tears welled up behind his eyes. Mary pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment, the young man pulled back and swiped the tears from his face. "Damn, I have got to get outta this place. It's turning me into a freakin' girl."

"Even grown men are allowed to have emotions. Especially when confronted with loved ones they've lost."

Dean's response was cut off as the others entered the room. Falling apart in front of his mother was one thing, but he'd book another stay in Hell before he'd show weakness in front of Sam, Ellen, and Jo.

"Okay, we should get started." Ellen spread a plastic table-clothe on the floor and gestured for the items to be brought to her. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. Then she picked up the chalk and carefully copied some elaborate symbols onto the sheet of plastic she was kneeling on. Dean waited until she was done before questioning her.

"So, how do you know this crap?"

"Sometimes my customers rack up quite the bar tab and ain't got the cash to pay it off. So I sometimes accept rare occult items in lieu of payment. Nothing dangerous, just stuff I can sell to other folks. This one guy had this," She held up a small perfume bottle full of liquid. "And the instructions on how to use it. Said something about being able to once again see your home when you're too far away to get there by any earthly means. Figure this situation is as close to that description as we'll ever get. Why not give it a try? Besides, the instructions talk about an open wound left behind on the one who's far from their home, and your mom says that fits."

Dean nodded, glancing down at his bandaged hand. Thing hurt like all hell and he was avoiding looking at it because he knew that if the infection got much worse he'd have to get some kind of medical treatment for it. With the way his luck worked, he'd probably lose his freakin' hand.

Ellen turned her attention back to the set up. She arranged small candles at certain spots on her chalk drawing. After that was done she poured a circle of salt around the whole thing. Dean didn't know whether that was part of the ritual or just a precaution. Then she once again turned to the hunter.

"I need some dirt from your home."

"Yeah, 'cause I keep some in a Ziploc in my pocket just in case."

"Scrape some from your boots or the clothes you had on, smart ass."

"Oh, yeah." Dean felt like a complete idiot, but covered by pulling out a knife and gouging the dirt from the treads of his boots. He handed it to Ellen and she placed it in a small plastic container.

"Okay. Jo, cut the lights. Dean sit right here. Everyone else stay back. I'm not sure exactly what's going to happen."

Dean sat cross-legged on the table-clothe, careful not to touch the chalk drawing or knock over the candles. Ellen held his right hand in hers and gently unwrapped the bandages. The wound looked awful. The skin around the puncture mark looked almost rotted and the veins were red and infected. Ellen gasped at the sight. Then she regained her composure and looked at the others.

"We're going to start now and if we're successful, this young man's going home. So if anyone wants to say goodbye…"

Mary approached him and gave him a hug. "Take care of yourself, Dean. Remember what I said."

Dean nodded.

Sam was next. "Hey, uh… look, sorry I was kind of hard on you. It's been a really strange few days, but I do wish you the best."

"Thanks, Sammy. Just remember not to harass your Dean too badly when he gets back."

"I'll do my best. And you know, you really should consider settling down and starting a family. You did great with the kids. Dean'll be pleased they were so well cared for."

Dean gave him a nod. He knew a family wasn't in his future, but he was happy he'd been able to be a part of this one for a little while.

Jo sent him a little wave. "It was nice meeting you. Don't get yourself killed any time soon."

"I'll try not to, but no promises."

"Are we ready?" Ellen asked.

"Let's go."

The female hunter lit all the candles and then began to read from the paper in a language that Dean didn't recognize. When she finished, the candles all flared for just a second.

"Reach your injured hand out, palm down."

Dean did as he was instructed. Ellen opened the small perfume bottle and poured the contents into the open wound.

Great. Dean thought. If it wasn't going to need to be amputated before, it sure as hell will now. Then all thought was eradicated by a terrible pain. He bit down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming. He didn't want to frighten Ellen into stopping. He needed to see this through. Then, just as he thought that it couldn't possibly feel any worse, Ellen turned his hand over and forced it down onto the flame of a candle. This time Dean couldn't contain the cry of agony. Still holding his hand in place, Ellen sprinkled the dirt from his boots into his palm and closed his fingers around it. The pain traveled up his arm, and when Ellen released him, Dean fell back onto the ground. The sensation felt similar to his confrontation with demon-skank and her magic knitting needle, but also somehow different. Dean opened his mouth to say as much, but that was when the first convulsion hit him. He heard the others call out in fear and his name was repeated over and over but he couldn't respond. His body just kept shaking and jerking until everything went dark and silent.

…

…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…

…

Travel by angel was one of the weirdest experiences Dean had ever had and considering his last few days that was saying a lot. One moment he had been standing in Bobby's living room and the next he was in an alley outside of a rundown building. He blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the others. This was it. No turning back now.

"Okay, boy, we go in and create one hell of a distraction. Give it a minute and you come on in quietly." Bobby instructed him.

"Dude, we've gone over the plan a million times. I got it. Just go and don't get your butts killed before I can take this abomination guy down."

"Ya sure he ain't our Dean?" Bobby chuckled.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "You'll do fine Dean."

"Thanks, Sammy."

Castiel merely nodded at him, then placed a hand on each of the other men's shoulders before they all disappeared.

Dean waited for what he figured was a minute and then opened the door. As he stepped in he heard the sounds of a fight coming from his left. He walked quietly down the cement steps, keeping an eye out for anyone nearby. At the bottom of the stairs, he continued past the open fire door and followed the sounds of struggle down the hall and to his right. He slowed even more as he approached an open door. He crouched down and glanced into the large room, looking for a decent hiding spot. The center of the room had been cleared except for some sort of alter, but plastic covered furniture was stacked all around the perimeter. That would do just fine. Before he could act, however, the confrontation near the alter caught his eye. Sam and Bobby were fighting four people that had remarkable strength and black eyes (demons, they had to be demons) and Castiel, really powerful angel of the Lord, was crumpled on the ground at the feet of a man with midnight-black skin.

Dean pulled his head back around the corner and out of sight. This was so not good. They had told him this thing would be powerful, but it had taken out a freakin' angel! How the hell was he going to survive this?

"Get a grip, Dean." He whispered to himself. "You can do this. Actually, you're the only one who can do this. So, get your ass in gear and stop talking to yourself like some mental patient, and let's do this thing."

Keeping low, he darted into the room and behind a desk. Dean figured he hadn't been seen when no one called out in alarm at his presence. Quietly, he circled the room, trying to get as close as possible to the abomination. Boy did that guy need a name.

Dean stopped when he reached a gap in the furniture. He snuck a quick look out at the fight. One demon lay dead (or at least he assumed it was dead… do demons die?) on the ground and Sam was stabbing another in the stomach. Some slutty-looking demon chick was standing in between the abomination and the battle, while the last demon was trading punches with Bobby. While part of Dean (the crazy kamikaze part) was tempted to join in to help his new friends, he knew what his role in the fight was and he had to be alive to do it. And since everyone was distracted, now was the time to move. Taking to his hands and knees, Dean crawled quickly to hide behind a bunch of file cabinets that were stacked on their sides. This was as close as he could get. Now he just had to wait for an opening.

Dean was just about to glance around the corner to see what was going on when a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Dude, you've gotta be freakin' kidding me!"

He spun around and looked up to see what appeared to be a ghost-like version of himself staring back at him.

Author's Note Part Two: Now there's a great way to leave this... so long as no one kills me for this cliffhanger. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks.