A/N: Oh man, I wish it was Thursday already but then I don't want it to be cause then there won't be anymore new eps. Either way, as strange as it is, I hope Lucifer lives. Mark P. (the guy who plays Jacob) is just way too cool to leave just yet.

Break time is over

He felt like a train had run over him. No wait it was more like a semi-truck running him over then coming back and doing it all over again. Yeah, that was it…maybe…maybe not. Either way, his throat was like a desert and his head was in beat with his heart. Fingers feeling like pure lead, Sam twitched underneath an itchy cover. The twanging of bed springs stabbed into his back, the annoyance and uncomfortable nature pulling him awake.

Groaning, Sam peeped out from under his eyes, feeling as if they had been closed for ages. He half-expected to find himself in the Pit, fires flaming all around him. Another part was expecting to be blind. And a small part was still thinking that maybe he was still inside his brother's twisted mind.

"D-Dean," his voice sounded like sand-paper, making his cough into the dry, dusty air.

"Sam," an old, fatherly voice warmed his chilled body. The creaking of footboards filled the pause, "Boy, you awake?"

"B-Bobby." Rising off the mattress Sam pushed himself backwards to rest his back against the iron rod headboard. Blurred hazel eyes focused slowly, the grit from his sleep cracking from the corners. Bobby walked slowly forward, dropping himself into a chair positioned right to the bed. The man seemed to have aged drastically, more gray to his beard, the hat tugged even lower onto his brow. In his weathered hands, Bobby held out a small glass of water.

Reaching out, Sam smiled softly his thanks before letting the ice-cold refreshing water wash away the desert. Emptying the glass, he whispered softly as his fingers ran over the condensation. "Where's Dean?"

"Don't know." Bobby shifted to lean against the chair, eyes taking in Sam's face checking to see if everything was alright. "When I got back, handcuffs were lying on the ground. The idjit used one of the metal springs to pick-lock it. And you were out on the mattress…" Voice trailing, a dark look fell over his face.

Foreboding filled the air. Griping the glass tighter, Sam licked his lips. "What is it?"

"Just you lying there… reminded me of some days long ago…" Sam could hear the unspoken words, "thankfully though you weren't dead."

Swinging his legs off the side, Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew deep in his soul what Bobby was talking about. His heart twisted at having this man who was like a father to him endure such a repeat. It was cruel. This man who loved them so much didn't deserve all this drama, didn't need to be dragged into this nightmare. Yet, here he was sitting quietly, reigning in his emotions to put Sam and Dean first.

Running a hand through his bedraggled hair, Sam coughed lightly, relived to feel the heaviness starting to fade away. "How long was I out?"

"Almost a week, didn't want to risk moving you." Always the ever cautious Bobby gazed up onto Sam as the lean man leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees.

"And you haven't been looking for Dean?" asked Sam quietly, not believing that Bobby would truly let Dean walk out like that.

"Hey," there's hurt in Bobby's tone, "I couldn't well leave you here alone to the elements. But if it means anything, Dean shows up from time to time to sleep and eat before heading off. He just walks out, not taking the car or anything. I don't know where the hell he goes."

His rising voice hinted at hidden one-sided arguments filling the main room during visits, frustration building in the hunter. How furniture was thrown, hands clutching desperately to a weary frame trying to shake sense into it.

"It's ok Bobby." Sam sighed, dread oozed down into his chest. "How is Dean?"

"Quiet. Doesn't say much, but when I do wrench out a verbal comeback, it's short and sweet. Otherwise, Dean keeps to himself. Good news is that I don't smell any liquor on him." Bobby's eyes traveled out to the window where he remembers meeting a small boy for the first time, trailing behind John Winchester while shielding a toddler behind him. He remembers a late night where a drunk John tells him with a voice full of regret how far Dean came from that first year after his mom died to being a perfect son and sadly a soldier.

Sam nodded, yanking Bobby back to the present. "You-"

"Get any demonic vibes from him, nope. Whatever happened, it changed him. And you're going to tell me what happened, considering on the way back there were scorched tree tops all over the place."

The stern voice makes Sam smile. "Alright." Pushing himself off the bed, Sam swayed but Bobby rose quickly offering him a shoulder to lean on. "Time to find Dean."

Shaking his head, Bobby curled an arm around Sam's waist as he swung an arm over his shoulder, "No. First off you're eating something and taking a shower. You smell worse then a zombie."

The youngest Winchester couldn't hold back a laugh. "And how do you suppose I take a shower?"

A long grin sneaked across Bobby's face. "Pioneer style, boy: a bucket and a towel."


After the adventure of washing himself, Sam felt better than ever. All aches and sores were gone, the headache now a mere throb coupled with his worry over Dean. The clean clothes didn't smell like sweat or blood, making him feel comfortable. And with that warm foundation, he felt more than ready to face his brother.

Biting into the second half of his peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, Sam told Bobby what he had missed. The Cliff-Note edition of what had occurred started with Castiel appearing in the cabin lead to a last minute journey into Dean's mind and the final battle to save the remaining goodness in his brother.

Bobby shook his head, hands nursing a beer. "So let me get this straight, you did a dream walk, talked to Dean and then what some power surge later your out."

Sam shrugged as he takes a small drink of beer. "That's about it."

Shaking his head, Bobby takes a deep drink. Sam's brow furrowed with confusion. "What?"

"Just that despite everything we've been through, this takes the icing."

Shaking his head in agreement, Sam sent a smile at Bobby. "Got that right."

"Speaking of strange things…" Bobby leaned forward, propping his arms on the table, "How you feeling? Itching for any demon blood?"

Blinking with wide eyes, Sam found himself speechless. Since he woke, he had forgotten about that little detail. Searching his mind, he waited for that hunger to rise in him, but all is quiet. "Pretty good actually, tired still but there's no craving. Maybe I burned it all out of me when I retaliated; you know one final burn-out?"

Bobby nodded idly, scratching at his beard. "Maybe…" Pushing himself backwards, he jumped, eyes widening in shock. "Geez, Dean, give me a heart attack would ya."

Sam spun in his chair, surprised to see his brother standing there in the doorway. He hadn't even heard the door open. Sending a warm relieved smile, he watched as low, cautious eyes moved from Bobby to him.

"Hey Dean." Dean narrowed his eyes, sweeping a penetrating gaze over Sam. The younger brother shifted uncomfortably, not liking the sensation that Dean was searching for something. Speaking of, the older brother shifted his shoulders underneath the normal layered clothing. The dark green work-jacket was stained with mud and there were hints of what Sam saw as dried blood on the cuffs.

Swallowing Sam kept his gaze on his brother's haggard face, taking in the deep-set lines, permanent scowl and the pale three o'clock shadow. His fingers were rimmed with dirt, knuckles cracked open were old signs of punching a solid object. Dread tickled Sam's stomach, hinting that maybe Dean was still a demon.

Bobby cleared his throat and patted at an empty place on the rickety table, "Pull up a stump and eat."

Dean shot a guarded look the jars. Dragging his caked boots backwards, he turned towards the fireplace. A low rasp fell from behind still lips. "We need more wood." Then like a ghost, he trudged silently back out into the woods.

Sam shot Bobby a worried look, in which the older man merely shrugged his own face reflecting the helplessness he felt. "Got any bright ideas?"

Outside, Dean walked with deliberate steps back towards the woods. With one swift move, he picked up the iron axe resting by the growing woodpile. Feeling the familiar weight, the eldest Winchester let his eyes wander the woods, searching for the perfect little tree. The perfect little victim.

Lips curling into a snarl, Dean's fingers curl over the handle tightening into a white-hot grip. His demon curled in the back of his mind, rattling newly minted chains. He can hear the whispers, the memories playing behind his eyelids.

He sees Sam there sitting next to the table, pale but awake. And he notices how the darkness that used to hang around Sam is gone, no longer radiating out of his brother. He's happy at first; relieved that maybe Sam is no longer damned. But then it begins to scare him as to the why. And what he doesn't know makes him angry.

Easing his grip, Dean let out a loud sigh expelling the anger with it. The darkness grew silent, the fuel dissipating once more as another battle ends. Since the moment he had woken up, heart pounding in his chest, eyes blinking away supernovas, Dean knew he was back. No longer was he drowning on a black demonic sea but now floating on a small boat, his evil tendencies lapping waves against the stern.

There was peace in those first few breaths. Then realization of what had happened came raining down. In a flash, the handcuffs were gone and spotting Sam's limp body lying on the bed, his lungs seized. Burst out of the cabin, collapsing onto the deck heaving in precious oxygen while his mind prayed that this wasn't happening again. That Sam hadn't died because of him. That he had been too late, failing once more at being a big brother.

"I won't leave you, not anymore."

"Because you're my brother."

Hope hardened in the hunter, enough for him to creep back into the cabin. Checking Sam's pulse, a flood of relief filled him. Old habits kicked in as he moved his little brother into a more comfortable position. When he was pleased with the results, Dean stood there silently deciding his next move. The sea began to rock harder within him. He was still weak, falling prey to his darker side at any moment. He needed to learn control this time.

He needed to twist Alastair's lessons onto himself.

Spotting a collapsed tree, its roots sticking out of the ground while the top crushed into the greens of stronger trees, Dean let out a dead feral grin. He couldn't deal with Sam being awake, not right now. He wasn't strong enough to be a brother yet.

Not when looking at him, he felt like a child. Sam had seen him at his worse and it made Dean feel sick to his stomach. He was the older brother here, he didn't need saving…he didn't need Sam risking his life for him. It was suppose to be the other way around.

Chocking, Dean pulled up the ax and rammed it hard into the wood. Falling into the mindless hacking of metal into wood, he let out all his helplessness. Until he felt ready for a hunt…till he could trust himself with Sam, this would have to do. The method worked for the past few days, out here by himself with no distractions and plenty of inanimate objects to take out his despair when the demon in him rustled.

Loud cracks split the air as he yanked the ax out before bearing it down once more. The sun peeked out behind the cloudy sky, hinting at an ever pure blue sky. And Dean found that he couldn't dare look up. He couldn't bear to see even a hint of sky without being reminded of Cas.

Cas the angel stood by him when he fell once more back into hell. The one person, outside Sam, who sacrificed his life to stop the self-destruction Dean was becoming. While Sam offered salvation, Cas gave him redemption. The one person Dean found himself daring to call a friend in this wake of a nightmare was gone.

Grief tickled his throat and moistened his eyes. Whistling in the wind, ash rained down from the burnt tree-tops. A fresh reminder of a battle fought above in the pristine air. Ending when Castiel using his dying breath to draw the archangels away from him.

Sniffing back his pain, Dean continued to slam the axe into the wood the adrenaline of his scarred, tarnished soul fueling every move. After what seemed like seconds but actually half an hour, the tree gave one final groan before snapping in half collapsing like a pile of bones at the hunter's feet.

The crushed pine trees to his right sprung upwards towards the sun, free from their burdens. Panting, Dean wiped sweat from his brow resting the ax against the log.

"Who are you?" Despite no longer having his demonic prowess up front, he could smell the angels. It was like a cold, harsh air from high altitudes than the air tinged forever slightly with sulfur.

A slim woman with her blond hair tied back in a loose bun looked up at him with brown eyes that seemed to glow golden whenever a breeze passed over her. She wore a simple white blouse over a pair of black jeans. Bare feet rested in a small patch of earthen soil that had been spilt from the upheaval. "You know who I am."

Narrowing his eyes, Dean could feel a burning presence caress over him. Recognition curled defensively over his frame. "Cas…"

"Is dead, I know," whispered back the angel. The hunter couldn't help but notice as her face darkened eyes grieving at the loss. "His rebellion has caused a stirring amongst the Host. Castiel was loyal…" She tilted her chin upwards, locking penetrating eyes onto a man that was more Castiel's charge, then hers. It was all she could do for her fallen brother.

"Dean!"

The pair turned as one towards Sam who was running up to them, gun pointed at the angel.

"Who the hell are you?" A bright fire blazed behind the words, full of love and protection.

Dean sighed, spotting once more at how reversed their roles where now. "It's ok, she's an angel."

Skidding to a halt, Sam blinked in surprise, almost dropping his gun at the sound of Dean's rough voice. Shaking his head, the younger Winchester's mouth opened in surprise. "I recognize you…you're the nurse from the hospital…after Dean…"

The woman bowed her head in acknowledgement, "I take on many forms, but I prefer this one when dealing with humans. My name is Sealtiel and you can say I am Dean's archangel."

"Oh."

Coughing lightly, Dean pulled Sealtiel's attention back on him. He might not be able to handle Sam or his own self right now, but there was another issue bothering him that could be solved. "Cas said Zac never wanted to stop the Apocalypse, you want to explain?"

A blank expression fell over Sealtiel's face, yet her eyes shone with a righteous glint. "I am figuring much out still. However, Castiel told me everything he knew when I helped free him from solitaire. It seems that Zachariah decided sometime after you broke the first seal that the Apocalypse might be a good thing for this planet. If we let all the seals break and let our fallen brother rise and let you kill him, Paradise would come. That finally, this never-ending war would indeed end."

"And you knew about this?" hissed Sam's accusation.

"No," Sealtiel shook her head, blinking wide eyes at Sam. "From what I can tell, only Zachariah and Uriel knew what was truly going on. If the rest of the Host knew, civil war would erupt. But Castiel mentioned Uriel converting powerful archangels to his side, telling them to lay off slightly, on protecting the seals, at least enough not to attract attention."

Sam stepped closer to the angel, his mind racing to connect the dots. All the while, he felt boiling disappointment towards these angels. What kind of creatures was he praying too that would decide to start the freaking Apocalypse? "So why let Dean…"

In a curt voice, void of any emotions, the angel replied, "Because Dean is the only one who can kill Lucifer. I can only guess that Zachariah thought it would be good thing if he also had the demonic strength to aid him. Like I said, I do not know all the details."

"And Sam…" whispered Dean, "My mission to stop him…"

Blinking Sealtiel smiled sadly at her charge. "As you were meant to break the first, your brother is meant to break the last. Hence why I am here."

Confusion tugged at their features. Bracing her shoulders, Sealtiel lowered her voice till it felt as if the earth shook. "The last seal is being broken as we speak, but where and how I do not know. That is why I seeked you out, believing that where ever Sam is-"

"Ground zero," finished Dean as he folded his arms across his chest. "But no such luck, I'm guessing."

"No," Sealtiel's voice rang with disappointment. A cold wind rustled through the leaves carrying with it a growing urgency.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Oh how helpful."

"What was the last seal?" stated Dean, ignoring his brother as his fears of Hell rising and being reacquainted with old friends quieted his troubled soul.

"Lilith." A deafening silence fell upon the trio as if the name itself could conjure up the oldest demon in existence.

"Oh God," Sam whispered in a timid voice, his face paling in color. The other Winchester and the angel both turned to look at him, their faces cracking with hidden emotions. Swallowing, Sam turned to look at Dean, eyes welling up in fear.

-St. Mary's Covent, Maryland-

War wiped his sword clean as the black blood of Lilith spread out onto the stone floor. Next to him Famine smeared some blood onto the white dress. The pair stood in an abandoned convent before a desecrated altar. Both wore tattered clothes, their borrowed bodies falling apart slowly underneath their care.

"Lilith was always full of herself, thinking we came here to side with her," muttered Famine as she rolled over the dead body face-up, the movement making her ache.

Chuckling, War slid the sword gently back into its' scabbard. "I guess in a way it was always meant to be Sam. I can't believe you got him to agree."

"You complaining?" Famine sighed, not sharing the same giddiness as her brother.

War grinned darkly as he watched the blood finish making its circle, "Hell no. I mean we all knew it had to be Sam dealing the killer blow or me as back-up. There was no other way."

"There was with Dean."

Hearing the dead tone, War wanted to beat the man out of her yet he stilled himself. Spirals of blood were merging with each other in the middle of the circle. "Moping about him still?"

"Well, he is the one that got away. And we could have had so much fun with him." Famine looked out of the window watching the reflection of pale light begin to pierce out from the floor. "But then that stupid angel had to send us hurtling towards the sun, dragging Dean back towards the light."

"It doesn't mean anything; you saw how far Dean was." War felt himself purr with satisfaction at how violent Nicor and Dean had fought each other. "There's no going back to being one-hundred percent human for that kid."

Famine glanced hopefully up at her brother, the whiteness outlining her face against the dark backdrop.

"They wouldn't dare purify him because they would end up killing him."

A volcano of light erupted, blinding and buzzing filling their senses. Their true boss was coming.

Famine smiled at the thought. "You're right. Dean can join us, it's not like it's the end of the world."

"Yeah and with Lucifer and the rest of the gang running around, we'll wear him out to the point that he has no choice."

Nodding, Famine seemed to bounce with renewed energy. Her and War's powers fully awakening in the harsh environment. "I owe him a gift afterall."

"That's the spirit." War jerked his thumb towards the open doorway. "Now let's rock n roll. We might no longer be on vacation and work for the same junkless boss but there's a planet ripe to burn."

In a thundering explosion, Famine and War joined the white column as Lucifer and all of Hell took to the night sky of Maryland.

-Woods-

In the back of her mind, she watched with dread as a dark curtain fell upon the Earth. Sealtiel sighed as she stepped up and placed her hands on both the boys' chests silencing any further conversations. Despite the changing of the tide, at that very moment she wanted to sing in joy so loud that maybe her dead brother would hear her sweet voice. The darkness from before remained in the eldest hunter but the blinding goodness and love outshone the scars. Dean Winchester truly was a special human.

And Sam Winchester was also special. Special in his own righteousness shining just as brightly despite the contamination of the demon blood now lying dormant once more. Truly these humans were God's beautiful creations, for how they could survive through such turmoil and yet remain steadfast in their blinding love for each other. Squaring her shoulders, Sealtiel knew which side she was on as she gazed up the Winchester brothers.

"Lucifer's free." Warmth emitted from her palms burning wards upon their ribs. Both humans flinched, but neither uttered a sound. Stepping back, Sealtiel took in the two men. "I also no longer trust Zacheriah and his plans for both of you. You should be safe in your travels. No angel will be able to find you." In her mind, the call to arms rang loud and clear. "I must go now, for the true battle begins today."

Gazing once more at the two, Sealtiel couldn't help the ghost of the smile. They might be lost, their relationship strained and even broken, but they were family. And all that mattered was that in the end, Dean and Sam would find their way back to each other. She didn't know why but the words slipped past her lips. "Good luck." Then in a flurry of wings, the archangel disappeared onto the frontlines.

Left alone once more, Dean ran a hand over his chest not knowing how he felt about being marked by an angel once again. But that was an issue for another day. "What did you do Sam?"

Sam had locked his eyes onto his own chest, as if he could see the wards themselves. "I just wanted her dead."

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"You were fighting that demon back in the hanger. I had to distract Famine somehow and save you at the same time." Desperation shone from Sam's hunched figure, brown eyes daring to look up. "So I told her to kill Lilith, to repay the debt."

Dean stared at Sam with cold eyes that the younger expected them to roll into white. Yet they remained green, but the same detached rage shimmered around the older brother. It was all too close a remainder of the demon lurking in his brother.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Silence stilled the air enough to hear a small pin drop.

Then a low voice full of understanding warmed the air around the brothers.

"I know, Sammy."


A.N. And there ya go, what you think I would end their troubles like that ;) So yeah, there will be one more last chapter, just don't know when I'll post it. Probably sometime next week. Otherwise take care!!! And here, have some left-over birthday cake to tie you over.