A/N: Whooo! Wasn't sure I was going to get this out on time. Sorry about missing the Sunday update, but life has been a little crazy, and unfortunately, it's gonna get worse over the next few days, as my laptop needs fixing (AGAIN).

It would really make my day if you review. My fluffy project seems to get more mileage when I update, so maybe the fandom prefers fluff? I love this story, but I want to write stuff that gets read, so share your thoughts.

Also...oh, this is hard to say. Sooner or later, on of the seven has to...um...die. Really, really die. This is your warning, so prepare yourselves. I kind of know who I think it's going to be, but review and leave your vote, if you want. I'm not gonna set up a poll for this, just leave your thoughts in a review. I'm curious to see if my readers are leaning the same way I am. Also, maybe, possibly, in the next two chapters or so, I think the Brothers Winchester will meet in person. Pegging the next update for Sunday.

As Always,

EverReader

Disclaimer: I want a tiger. Oh, I mean...not mine.

All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 12

"Hide and Seek"

"And Sam?" Dean asked, afraid to ask, terrified to ask.

She looked at him steadily. "Sam was Azazel's favorite. First draft pick. Your families bloodlines combined with you're father's training. They called him the Boy King. It was a prophecy, an old one, that Azazel was determined to make good on. But Sam was stubborn, he was so damn stubborn. Azazel did things to him, things even I can't imagine. There are things they don't talk about afterward, Dean, even in Hell. But Sam wouldn't break, wouldn't bend. He refused to become Azazel's good little soldier."

Dean flinched at her choice of words, a thousand memories of a teenaged Sam fighting with their Dad flashing across his mind.

"So what happened, then?" He asked, eyes glued to the girl in front of him. She was no longer fighting her bonds, instead, almost rocking inside them as she told her story.

"Azazel figured it out." She said darkly, her eyes a thousand years away. She looked up, directly at Dean, and he was struck by the insane notion that he was somehow seeing her soul, bared in that moment the way winter strips a tree of it's foliage, the bones of it's bare branches stark against the January sky.

"He figured out what Sam was willing to kill for." She whispered, and yet her voice echoed, and Dean could imagine her words tracing their way up the walls and out the skylight, chasing themselves out into the universe, feral and broken and fearless and tragic.

"What?" Dean replied, dread churning in his stomach.

"Us." She spoke ominously.

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Dean awoke with a start in yet another nameless, faceless hotel room, legs tangled in his sweat dampened sheets, the material clinging to him like ensnaring vines.

Sam.

Oh, God.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom, making it in just the nick of time. He lost what little was left of whatever had been in his stomach in the first place.

It was true. It was really, truly true.

He had thought it, said it, discussed it with Bobby, discussed it with the other lost children, but nothing had truly prepared Dean the events of his dream.

There was absolutely no doubt in Dean's mind that the dream had been real, had been true.

Yes, it had been foggy and blurred, disorienting the way dreams were, but that didn't change the fact that it was real.

And more than that, it had felt like...well.

It had felt like Sam.

Being on that roof with Sam for just a few minutes in a damn dream had been enough, because everything about it, the chosen location, the moonlight, the voice.

It all felt like Sam.

Dean had talked to Sam.

He was older, harder, colder, there was no doubt about it.

Being around him had set off Dean's hunter's instincts, but that wasn't all. Being around that demon on the roof had also set of Dean's big brother instincts, had reached out and soothed that part of him that had spent the last seven years chasing every shadow, searching every face, haunting every dark place looking for the kid he had practically raised.

While the hunter inside him had been screaming kill-run-defend-demon, the brother inside him had simply said Sam.

Dean had spent the last seven years listening to the hunter inside him and it had got him nothing.

His mother, dead.

His brother, gone.

His father, run away.

Screw the hunter. Dean meant what he said in the dream.

He wanted his brother back. All this time he had been back, Sam had been avoiding Dean, yet he had still been keeping him in his peripheal vision, sending back up and advice.

In his dream, he had warned Dean.

Demon or not, some part of Sam was still Sam, still felt something for Dean, and there was nothing in Dean capable of walking away from that.

Quite the opposite.

Booting up his laptop, he started googling. Three hours later, he had what he was looking for.

The picture matched Dean's dream to a tee, minus the night sky, as the photo was taken during the day.

Seattle. Sam was in Seattle.

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Ava heard the rustle of wings behind her. Petting one finger along the paper thin edge of her angel blade, she continued to study the building ahead of her.

"Do I even want to know where you got that?" The voice was the same, though it lacked some of the amusement from the night at the zoo.

"It was a gift from my sister." Ava answered without looking around, eyes trained to the far doorway across the street.

"From one of my sisters seems more likely." The voice had a chill to it now, and she rolled her eyes and turned around.

"I'm working." She stated plainly. "And if it really makes any difference to you, I'm pretty sure it was a brother."

"Who?" Gabe demanded, pulling his own blade and advancing slowly, a predator all his own, moonlight glinting off the dark champagne hair and whiskey eyes.

Ava tossed her own dark mane behind her. "Seriously? I thought you didn't do politics? Why don't you go haze some foot ball players or somethnig."

"Who, Ava?" He demanded threateningly.

Just them, screams erupted from across the street, and frantic people fled from the building, crying, some bleeding.

"Always making me late." She muttered, stalking over to the ledge of the rooftop she was standing on.

He joined her quickly at the edge, staring down into the chaos.

"What is that?" He demanded, squinting.

"You're looking with the wrong eyes, angel." She murmured, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He tossed her a look of his own, then looked back at the building, lips curling back with disgust.

"False witness." His words dripped disdain.

"You can smite him when I'm done." She offered carelessly.

"Why would you kill another Demon?" He asked.

"I doubt I'll kill him. I just...want to talk to him." She waggled the blade at him, and he smiled one-sidely.

"I bet." He said sarcastically.

"You coming?" She asked, climbing onto the ledge, turning her back on the chaos and facing the arch angel, the low wall serving to give her a few inches height over his own.

"What are you up too, arch demon?" He said, a calculating look in his eyes.

"You're obviously bored. And Angels hate false witnesses more than most, right? Demon's born from false holy men who abused their privileges? Right up your alley, Loki."

"I think I better keep an eye on you." His words were almost flirting, yet there was a look of dark seriousness in his eyes. "Need a lift?" HE gestured to the three story drop below them.

She raised a brow sardonically. "Who needs wings?" And with that, she let herself fall back, arms outstretched gracefully. Gabe leaned forward, watching despite himself, as she turned, catlike in midair, landing neatly in a crouch on the street below.

"Michael may have gotten more than he bargained for, with you." He murmured to himself thoughtfully.

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Andy paced around the cleric, studying the man intently. Finally, he reached over and pulled down the man's gag.

The man immediately launched into an exorcism, Latin tumbling from his lips.

"Hush now." Andy said amicably enough. "That wouldn't work on me anyway, Father, but it gives me a bitch of a headache.

"Demon." The man spat, and Andy smiled, delighted at his spirit.

"Father Macey, is that any way to treat a guest?" He chided, walking over to study the man's book shelves. Pulling out a few tomes that either he or Sam might find interesting later, he set them down next to his ipod.

Turning back to his host, he watched the man struggle in silence.

"I'll make you a deal." Andy offered, and the man's eyes widened.

"I would rather die than deal with the likes of you." The man spat at him, and Andy's eyebrow lifts. With a flick of his wrist, the ropes binding the Father fell to the ground.

Andy tossed his blade to the ground.

"Pick it up." He said, but this time he used to power in his voice, the words echoing in the crowded study, and the man's eyes widened in horror as he found himself helpless to disobey.

"Hold it against your wrist." Andy commanded, and if anything, the Father's horror mounted.

"Suicide's a cardinal sin, isn't it, Father?" Andy questioned idly, making himself at home in the chair behind the desk.

"Be a shame to go to hell after all your years of studying the seals and the cage of Lucifer." He continued.

"What do you want?" The man's voice wavered, breaking a little, and Andy smiled at his feet, propped up on the desk. Leaning his head back casually, he stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders.

Finally, he looked at the man in front of him.

"I want to know everything you know about the seals." He said, all traces of playfulness gone.

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Ava slashed and cut, a writhing, whirling dervish as she transversed the floor of what had been a quiet, hole in the wall bar only a few hours again. She could sense the angel to her right and slightly behind, his aura pressing against her skin like the setting of the sun.

False Witnesses were a special breed of demons, born of the tortured souls of false men of the cloth who had lied, cheated, raped, stolen and murdered. They tended to travel with an entourage, and this one was no different, a horde of angry lower demons raining down pain and suffering on the patrons of the bar.

Ava laughed as she cut another down. The man fell to her feet, moaning, and her lips curled back as she hissed at him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw another demon launch himself at her, but she had noticed to late, that was always the risk of working without her siblings. She braced herself for the pain of his blade in her side, but it never came.

She finished turning, blade raised, to find the man now nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash. Her eyes widened just slightly at Gabe as he stood with a cocky grin before her.

"A thank you would be nice." He smirked.

Her eyes darkened. "Don't ever save me again. Don't try, don't even think about it." She hissed, furious. She had spent too many lifetimes waiting to be saved for an angel to try and rescue her now.

She stalked over to the now cowering Demon, the False Witness's appearance flickering back and forth between the visage of a smiling, handsome man and a disgusting, half-rotted corpse. False Witnesses were cursed to bear bodies that showed their true natures, never one thing or another.

But Ava was interested in something even more rare about that special breed of demon.

Ignoring the angel who had come to stand at her back, she began to chant the entrapment spell Meg had taught her, the Latin rolling flawlessly off her tongue.

False Witnesses were hunted by other demons for only one purpose. Trap one with the correct spell, and it would have to give you a true answer to any one question of it's choosing. Even if it didn't know the truth itself, the truth would crawl out it's throat, spill down it's lips.

That was the true curse of the False Witness. To be hunted for the truth.

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Sam studied the skyline, lost in his thoughts. Meg came up beside him quietly, like his other siblings, she enjoyed high places.

"Dean's found you." She said quietly.

"I know." He murmured. "I thought perhaps he might. I left him a clue in his dream, the question was whether or not he would pursue it."

"Well, he did. So what are you gonna do about it?" She said flippantly, as brash and unafraid as Ava and any of the others around him.

Meg was older, far older, but her story had been strikingly similar to Sam and the others. Not quite the same, of course, but she and Rainier had both been chosen by Azazel centuries ago.

Sam had spent decades hating her, for, on Azazel's command she had featured often in his torture. But when he discovered the true nature of Azazel's plan for him, he'd made a play for her loyalty. His logic had won her over, and she'd served as a double agent for years now.

"My father has located the hell gate." She added.

"That's...unfortunate. And Rainier?" Sam asked.

Meg had come over to his side, but Rainier was loyal to no one but Azazel, and Meg bore him no love.

"I don't know. Father has grown suspicious since your escape. We have to move faster." She urged.

Sam turned to her, eyes flashing. "We can go no faster, Meg." His voice was chilling, and Meg forced back shudders. She was powerful, but Sam had been forged into a weapon lifetimes ago, and she'd be a fool not to acknowledge that.

"I'll do what I can. He may have a lead on the colt." She said finally, and Sam nodded.

"Go, then." He commanded, and she disappeared into the with, the scent of sulfur drifting behind her.

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Dean studied the skyline before him. He'd been driving non stop for hours, and he was beyond relieved that the city in the distance matched the crude drawing he'd made as soon as he had awoken from the dream in which he'd spoken to Sam.

Climbing back into the Impala, he started the engine and headed into the city to find a motel.

He tossed the sketch on top of the newspaper he'd snagged at the gas station a few miles back, an unwitting piece of good luck.

Dean knew he could tear about Seattle brick by brick and still not find Sam if he didn't want to be found. Sam might have already left, in fact.

But Dean was betting that some part of Sam, no matter how small, wanted to be found. The dream's location had been an obvious clue.

Dean was determined to make it as easy as possible for Sam or any of his so-called siblings (and Dean really couldn't think about that for long without needing to scream) to contact him.

Until now, they had always contacted him to help him with whatever case he was working on.

He glanced down at the newspaper, folded open to reveal the article that had caught his attention.

"Seattle local dies, eye's gouged out, body found in locked bathroom!" The headline screamed, Dean squared his shoulders.

Time to play hide and seek, little brother.

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Ava paced back and forth in front of her captive, a wicked smile curving her lips. Gabe leaned against the door frame in the back ground, enjoying her work.

She reminded him a little of his ex, Kali.

The witness gibbered and shrieked, keening at her, switching from Latin to E'norkat, and she answered back, still more Latin pouring from her own mouth.

This was the third time she had repeated the ritual, this Witness was stronger than most, but she appreared tireless, driven.

"Fine." It suddenly spit at her, lips peeled back to reveal rotted, yellowing teeth. "What exactly is it the little girl would like to know?"

She cocked her head, judging it's truthfulness.

"Give me some options." She said, tossing some Holy Water from a flask in her jacket on the wailing demon.

"A colt, a key, a righteous man, an angel of the lord." It sang, voice high and reedy like nails on a chalkboard. "The cupid, the cure, the King of Hell, or..." It drew the word out painfully, and Gabe winced at the discord.

"The names of Azazel's newest children." It laughed then, and she screamed in fury, throwing more Holy Water on it.

Whipping out her blade, she stabbed the disgusting creature where it's heart should have been. It partially disintegrated in a flash of smoke and sulfur, and she stood above what remained of it's carcass.

"What did it mean, the cure?" Gabe said, striding up to her, grabbing her arm.

Ava didn't even seem to see him, lost in her own thoughts, and he found himself wondering why in the name of the Father he even cared about some little girl Demon.

She blinked, looking at him.

"It's starting again." She said.