THEN... November 1989

"I'd ask you to be reasonable and cautious, but I know your nature too well-like asking a scorpion not to sting. You know this could be an elaborate trap." Frowning in concern, Pastor Jim found his fingers leafing the edge of a hymnal over and over, flicking the pages just as a way to keep his own voice calm. His haunches perched against the back of a pew as he tried not to add anymore worry to John's mind while trying to be exceptionally rational for his friend. Times like these tested Jim's faith more than anything. It was hard not to notice the heave in John's shoulder, bent by the pressure and panic of not having Dean with him. "Your son needs you to be…"

"That thing's had him for 2 weeks! I've tracked it from one coast to another."

"We've tracked it and we still have no idea what's been done or why this demon took him." He reasoned. "At least let me call others who would help. I have a friend Caleb…."

"No waitin'. That damn thing has my boy. He's my son. I won't..."

"I'm not suggesting that we take no course of action," Jim placed a hand on his song book and prayed that this would all turn out okay. "I just want you to be ready if..."

"Don't even finish that if you want to keep standing..."

Knowing John's threats well, Jim pressed onward, risking a punch if necessary. "Going off half prepared will do little good. You aren't going at this alone either. You may shun the assistance of others, but that game doesn't work with me. You should learn something from Dean. That kid…. saving the others… You just can't see it. Can you? You saving them… gives him great hope. It's so simple for him."

"And that means jack shit to him now! Will all that save him? Where are these assholes now… will any of them help him."

"You forget too easily, John Winchester. All you have done-learned has been from others. You would still be stabbing blindly in the dark without people pulling back on the veil of what's out there. While I understand your bitterness, you must learn patience. And don't mistake my intentions and wisdom for not having faith. For with God all things are possible."

"What has God ever done!?"

"He gave you Sam and Dean, and those boys are the refuge from the darkness. Sometimes for us all. I know Dean is strong and heaven knows I want….I…" Even Pastor Jim couldn't face the words that Dean may have left them- be dead somewhere by demon hands.

"He'll be okay. He's a tough kid." John said, trying more to convince himself than Jim.

"Since I cannot sway you and there is nothing you can say to sway me from my own mission."

"I need you here to take care of Sam." John suggested, thinking of what he was going to do to the damned thing that took Dean and that no one should be around to see it.

"And if you end up dead… that leaves the boys where and with who…. I can't in good conscience stand idle and let you go alone. Not when you head is up your own rear end. In any case, Sister Agnes will watch over him and I have other friends who would help you on this journey. Don't let the evil control you. You walk that narrow edge too much."

"It means nothing if I don't have them. Can't you see that… my boys… they took my Mary and all I have of her is them. Sometimes I look at Dean and I feel so disgusted with myself. I see her and I have to turn away. And he's always there to tell me it's okay. Just knows when I need that push."

"Then be sensible now. What would that child want of you?"

"For me to save him."

"Then do it. The time for vengeance will come…"

"So help me if you say vengeance is mine sayth the Lord, I will…"

"Hmmm… good to know I have had some influence on you." Jim chuckled. "So I need not tell you what you already know. Although I can recommend some chapter and verses for you. Don't shut down on us. None of this is bound to help Dean."

"I don't need friends. See what happened when you let people in and try to give them a normal life. The damn demons the chance to get ahold of my boy. I send him to school and this happens. I don't need anyone's help."

"I am afraid you have no choice in this matter. As I have told you, my fate is tied to yours. You know what the demons believe about your children."

"Lots of bullshit."

"I pray that is true. I would prefer they be away from all of this, but the facts lead me to believe they will fight for us all one day. And I pray that stand is made together."

"All I care about right now is getting to Dean."

"As do I."

"ME TOO! Dad, are you going to get Dean?" Sam muttered excitedly said from under one of the pews. His small face peeked out, barely noticeable as he hid just under the wooden seat while he peered up at his father just through the space at Jim's feet.

"Samuel Winchester! Were you listening?" Jim scolded playfully, trying to put on a charade for Sam's sake.

"I guess," he confessed as he crawled out to face both men. A sheepish look sculpted on his face while he glanced down at his tennis shoes. "I wanna go. I wanna see Dean. Why didn't he come back like he promised?"

"Not now!" John barked.

As the anger unleashed off his frustrated tongue, Sister Agnes rushed inside just in time to give Sam a stern look and John a more severe one that could crack the stone face of a gargoyle. She hurried so fast her habit swished like a maddened bell when she walked. Quite obviously Sam gave her the slip, which gave John little confidence that she could protect Sam at all; much less control the five-year-old. Sam was growing more defiant and eager every day. By the time she had Sam back in hand, the young boy had grown teary-eyed with confusion.

"But, I wanna see Dean. He promised."

"Hush now," the Sister prompted softly, morphing to a softer expression. "I'm sure Pastor Jim and your father can understand that, but we need to be here to welcome him. We can make him a welcome party…"

"I think we all should take it easy." Jim reminded. "Dynamite in hell would be less likely to go off." He directed the last comment to John with a carefully timed eyebrow arch.

Mainly, John wanted to take all the words Jim had said along with the pain and shove them down the nearest demon's throat until they gorged on everything they had done to his family, but no matter how hard he tried to be hardcore, one soft look from Sam and Dean was all it took for him to crumble. Even that could be dangerous in this business, but he wouldn't trade that weakness for the life it gave him. Now, Sam's teary eyes and longing for Dean stopped that temper from exploding. He sighed, realizing his anger was severely ill placed.

"Son, I'm sorry." He bent down on his knees as if he might soon offer prayer, instead giving Sam a slight hug. "Think I just miss him too."

"The teacher... she was after me. I heard Dean say..."

"No...No. Dean's just in a special class right now cause..."

"I heard you. You're worried! He got hurt cause of me? Got in big trouble?"

"No, Sammy... There was just a little misunderstanding about how long he went on this field trip. Dean's coming home soon. Okay?"

"Don't lie."

"Dean's fine. I would never do that to you. He's too important to us, huh?"

Sam nodded, his face obviously full of longing for his brother. "Can I go? Please-pretty please."

"Sorry, you can't this time, but he'll be back with us soon. I swear it."

"Like Dean promised?"

"Has your brother ever broken one before?"

"No." Sam's bangs swayed as he nodded.

"Then he isn't going to start now. He takes good care of us… right….Come over here. I just have to go somewhere to get him. I'm sure he'll be good as new once he gets around his little brother. He loves you, you know that?"

"Really?"

"Hell yeah." John said just to goad Sister Agnes.

"Promise he'll come home?"

"Yeah, promise."

"Dad, I wanna see DEAN!" Sam cried buckets of tears.

"Me too, kiddo, me too. Just be strong until we get back." John's voice hitched. "Just for that long."

"Good night, sunshine. Mama's got work to do, but I won't be gone long. You might miss me." Armaros stroked Dean's dirty cheek, pulling his chin up to look at her as he hung his mother's locket around her neck for him to see.

At the moment, Dean was fully there, but he was on autopilot. "Not my mom...not my Mom..." Dean muttered, confusion and delirium gripped his mind. The only defense he had left was the instinct to deny and fight everything. In that small way he held on to control.

"Of course I am dear."

Pulling hard, Dean wiggled the chain anchored in the mortar and mumbled something in defiance that didn't really resemble speech.

"And I left you dinner." She laughed putting the food close enough, but still out of reach. "And you can think about my feelings while I'm gone."

Clenching his fist, he pushed the small piece of broken locket deep into his palm, nicking a small gash in his hand. Yet, he didn't care. That pain was so far beneath the things that he had experience. What was one more cut in a body marred by abuse?

"I have something very important to do and I'm not ready for my friends to know about you yet- ACTUALLY…" She stretched out the word and tisked her lips. "Actually- ever. Oh, poor little Dean. After all of this, you still don't want to let go. All you have to do it let this happen and you will be home again. You'll have Sam. I am just asking for a small price. Can you imagine a world where you can have anything you want at any time- no worries- no pain. A good life…. A playground for you forever and a place of power. All the things you have so little of now."

The boys shook his head, but it wasn't clear if he truly understood her promises. Internally, she noted it may be time to give him food to fortify him again. "Why don't you eat something while I'm gone?"

She moved the plate closer, relishing when Dean's stomach growled. He moaned, half alert and only alive by her whims and the smell of the food in front of him. "That's mama's little boy. You be good and when I get back you get your favorite special time with me."

Any words stole and frozen in the dryness of his throat. Instead, he spit in her face- an action telling her he would never give in.

"Now, that means you are going to have some punishment when I get home. Just what am I going to do with you?" With that she smiled, walking away from her prize, abandoning him for her next nefarious purpose.

Dean's eyes fluttered. His tiny body broke into cold sweats as her soft footsteps echoed away for him. Dean waited, letting the time pass slowly, hoping he could just not have pain for a single second. He longed for a place where he could rest as much as his heart desired- to eat as much as he wanted. He didn't hear another sound, but the food gleamed before him until he bent down, leaning as far as his bonds would permit, and dove head first to take a bite like a wild ravenous dog.

NOW….

Outside the day appeared sunny but the air crisped dewy crystals on the windows and the grass surrounding the three decade old brownstone. The white washed window panes had long stained grey by years of weather and mildew, but the intricate design of the ice bore them some semblance of new life. There was an inherent beauty about the way the ice crystals had formed in the window glass, still showcasing the detailed work of craftsmen years ago in a fresh way. Despite its age, the bricks and mortar stood proudly, even though the building festooned with dead overgrowth as nature conquered the creations of man. The twisted and clustered vines clung overtook stones and cracks like an uncontrolled plague, choking its victim to death. Yet, the leaves weren't meant to have a final victory this year as they were already turning crisp and discolored from winter's forth coming grasp.

Sam reminded himself that he had to be that cold now- to let his blood splinter and freeze when he first spied the building. He would have to as cold and calculating as these demons. So far being nice had gotten him squat- just like his old man told him it would. Sometimes he father did have some wisdom for him. God he wished John was here. His father would have been so much stronger and better at this. He would never hesitate. Sam was the one to stop and weigh if everything supernatural was evil, but maybe a small part of him wanted to believe there was goodness out there too. Goodness- BAH! He scrooged in his mind. If there was good, he hadn't found it yet. Nothing like watching your brother in pain to change your perspective of the world. Just when he found the newest and deepest low he thought they could reach, there always seemed to a darker and murkier mess just around the next curve.

Slowly, he drove, inspecting for any signs of a trap. The structure seemed devoid of light when he parked behind a silver van, propped up on cinder blocks with several part missing. Much like this lead, it was absent of several important pieces. If Wain controlled Dean, why would he keep him in a coma? Why would he even bother to show up to begin with and risk exposure? Wouldn't a demon smart enough and powerful enough to do this be wise to stay on the down low? Surely this whole game wasn't just one big demonic gloat? Of all the questions running in his mind, the largest had to be what motivated this demon to leave them clues to where he was or at least had been. This address was the only info they had and Sam didn't like the idea of feeling so foolish and stupid to be this far behind. Yet, the disappearance of Wain from the hospital seemed to support the man was playing some part in this game. And for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure out why he didn't sense this danger or notice it at the very least. Missouri shows up and all of sudden this faux psychic disappears. Inspector Gadget could have noticed even that.

"Stop beatin' yourself up." Bobby said, not really looking at Sam.

"How did you..." Sam finally said after being silent on the drive over.

"Cause he's doing it too. Pot calling the kettle black if you ask me." Missouri scolded.

"What can I say? Can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"Mmmmm..." She smiled. "And why don't I believe you?"

Sam sighed as he surveyed the surroundings with a detailed eye, searching for any sign of the otherworldly, especially Wain. Even the smallest indication would not go unnoticed as he panned back and forth, searching for the minutia. This time he was intent on being on top of his hunting game. He already knew Bobby was doing the same and Missouri had also opened herself to any vibe. Not finding any immediate concern, he stepped out of the Impala, followed shortly by his companions, adapting his long strides to keep pace with Bobby and Missouri.

"Seems quiet." Sam mumbled.

"Always hated quiet." Bobby added.

"No wonder you and Dean get along." Missouri smarted and then turned to Sam. "Ready for this?" she asked, reading the apprehension on Sam's face like some part of him wanted to be back with Dean in the hospital room.

"Can you ever really be ready?" Just as a reassurance, he pushed back his blue flannel shirt, exposing the hilt of Ruby's knife. Ever so briefly, he ran a finger over it, checking to make sure his insurance policy against demons was at his side. He would have preferred the Colt- less close quarter action that way and not half as messy. Since Lilith had that in her grubby, demonic paws, he had little choice.

"Something's here. I can feel the heaviness like before - so much stronger now. I don't know if this is good or bad, but something else is here. So close to Dean- everything intertwined."

"I can feel it too." Sam muttered.

"Thought that psychic stuff disappeared on ya." Bobby commented.

"It is... just...I can't tell you how, but I feel that we're on the right trail."

"Good nuff for me." Bobby suggested, but an air of apprehension clung to his features, never quite comfortable with the demon blood running inside of Sam.

"Be careful, this is powerful- dark as thing that killed your momma." Missouri warned.

"It'll die just the same. I'm so tired of Dean paying for all of this. It's not right."

Neither Bobby nor Missouri argued the statement. It was better for Sam to vent anger and frustration here than in the midst of battle.

"True. The kid's had it tough, but your brother keeps on swingin'... it's just his way. Let's keep our heads in the game like he would want. Once we get this Wain to answer a few questions, I'll feel a hella lot more settled." Bobby instructed as he reaffirmed the emotion behind Sam's wishes.

Missouri gave him a sly smile with a slight scoff. Bobby had just slipped Sam a warning wrapped up in a reassurance. If Sam noticed the seasoned hunter's intentions, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he crouched down, squeezed between the hedges, eased soundlessly through the brush, wiped away from for one of the windows, and peered inside to get a better view. Finally, he saw a small flicker of light- faint and deep inside one of the inner rooms- nothing more than a glow from some upper floor room. Even through the darkness within, Sam noticed the insides bragged of decadence- a stark contrast to the unkempt outside.

"Someone's using this place as a hold." He told his companions, who had joined him in casing the structure.

"And puttin' on the Ritz inside." Bobby gritted his teeth.

Shoving his way through the underbrush, while beckoning them to follow, Sam entered the structure. The floors felt sturdy enough and Sam stumbled briefly in the darkness until his eyes adjusted.

The entrance door opened to a large, formal archway. Throughout the house there were all sorts of beautiful things, horded in some strange museum. From the main room, a formal dining room offshooted. A complete table and service displayed across a seemingly never-ending formal table, set up as if the owner was expecting a party of thirty at any moment for dinner.

In contrast to the splendor of the interior and the multitude of treasures it contained, there was no electric light anywhere. Only candles littered the walls and floors in droves, most in a half burned state with puddles of wax anchoring them to an old wood floor. When Bobby leaned down to one, his fingers dipped close to one of the wicks.

"Stone cold. Don't think anyone's been in this room at least for hours. Hope that means they weren't expecting our company. Won't see us coming."

As much clutter as there was in this place, it would be hard not to hear a fly intruding. Every available space filled with priceless works of art, all framed- Degas, Rodin, Eschers.

"Hmmmph…" Sam shook his head. "A demon with a warped sense of humor- playing on an art masters name- Eschers- Etchers."

"Guess he wanted attention." Missouri noted.

"He's bout to get some." Bobby smiled broadly, "He should be more careful who he plays around with."

"Come on. You would kill him if he went after anyone." Sam noted.

"True, but it don't sit well when it's close to home. Never did and never will. Especially a pansy ass- she demon in a mansion."

"This place is enormous." Missouri glanced up to the high vaulted ceilings.

"And flashier than Vegas." Bobby whistled. "Half this stuff would fetch you a fortune. - Demonic Lex Luthor hording..."

"More like a demonic Martha Stewart if you ask me. This demon's vanity... it likes the notoriety of its position." Missouri asked. "Such pride in what can be possessed."

"Got that vibe did ya." Bobby wondered.

"No, just got enough sense to know a snob when I see one." Missouri countered.

"I'm more concerned by who it can possess." Bobby mouthed, not really bantering anymore, but thinking of a little boy he promised to protect years ago.

"He knows." Missouri whispered.

"Huh... oh... what...uh...knows what?"

"What do you think?" She said exaggeratedly.

"Oh...well...ain't time for stuff..."

"There's always time. And more often than not, Dean needs to hear it."

"Hear what? That he needs a swift kick in the pants?"

"Hmmm... you know that boy too damn well." She snickered.

Bobby pushed aside those thoughts, while Missouri wondered if Dean learned his smartass comments from Bobby, not that John was any better a role model in that arena.

"Where did all of this come from?" She asked, ignoring the drive to put Bobby on the spot again.

"Had to be here for years."

"Pride… Mementos..." Missouri offered. "I don't know why but it likes mementos." Suddenly, something caught Missouri attention, or possibly her inner senses.

"What's wrong?"

"Sickness, pure foul dark sickness. Dean… it's… "

Missouri held her head tightly, but her feet propelled her forward as if they knew where to go without her instructions. She wandered through the dining hall, straight into the oversized kitchen, and into a pantry the size of most master bedrooms. When the door opened the stench of rotting, oozing flesh welcomed them, filling their stomachs and throats with the disgusting sensation of bile. Sam pushed her back to block her from seeing anymore. One glance in the pantry was plenty.

Several corpses lay, in different levels of decay, carved in elaborate ways. Many were torn to shreds, maimed, and dismembered. All carved out with hollow eye sockets. Some had been dead for quite some time, probably well over a few months, but most were recent. All had Dean's name carved in their chest like a failed ritual.

"Sacrifices." Sam muttered.

"Desperate sacrifices." She said. "She's calling for the power of something darker and for some deeper purpose than we ever dreamed."