Thank you Jenjoremy for the fab beta job. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dean could tell by the position of the sun through the window when he woke that he had slept much later than usual. He wondered if Castiel had knocked him out after all or if it was just his exhaustion finally winning. He stretched and rubbed a hand over his face as he got up and gathered clean clothes from the top of the dresser at the end of his bed. He realized he was on his last change of clothes. He was going to have to do some laundry. It seemed such a simple, regular thing to do that it felt strange to think about it. The fact there were still mundane chores to take care of seemed crazy when there was so much that was drastically wrong.

He shook his head and walked into the bathroom to clean up. As he washed his face, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked older than he had even a few months ago. Everything that had happened since the angels were first taken had made its place on his face. He was tired looking and wan. His eyes were the biggest sign of change; they barely had any life left in them.

Though it was late, there were no voices speaking in the library when he got downstairs. He walked in and looked from face to face. Castiel looked upset, Bobby solemn, and Lucifer empty.

"What?" he asked. "Is it…?" He couldn't bring himself to say his brother's name.

Bobby shook his head. "Gabriel."

Dean frowned. "What about him?"

"He's dead," Castiel said in a dull voice.

Dean gasped. "How?"

"Sam killed him," Bobby said. "So I guess we got an answer to that question. Sam is dangerous to an archangel, too."

Dean gripped the wall to steady himself. "Sam killed him! Are you sure?"

Lucifer nodded slowly. "He left a note."

Dean closed his eyes as the shock rolled over him. Sam had murdered an archangel. Sure, neither of them were exactly fans of Gabriel since his time as the Trickster, but to kill him… And he wasan archangel. Just how strong was Sam now? Could he beat Lucifer, their best chance for action when they found a way to save him? When Chuck finally cut them a break they would need…

"Chuck!" he said breathily. "Is he okay?"

"He is fine," Lucifer said. "Sam didn't hurt him even. He's obviously scared, but he's alive."

Dean was relieved his friend was okay, and that there was also hope for Sam still. An idea occurred to him. "He was there though?" he asked. "Sam killed Gabriel but didn't even hurt Chuck?"

"Yes," Lucifer said. "He spared him. Chuck is now somewhere safe, working on the tablet still."

Dean laughed weakly, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.

"What is funny?" Castiel asked disapprovingly.

"He didn't hurt Chuck," Dean said.

"Yes, but he killed Gabriel," Castiel said.

"Yeah. I know he's your brother and all, but he tortured Sam for months! He forced him to watch me die a hundred times, and he made him live alone six months, knowing I was in Hell. He had a grudge with Gabriel if not outright hatred for what he did. It makes sense for him to kill Gabriel. But he'd liked Chuck. He had no problem with him. He wouldn't want to kill him."

Castiel shook his head sadly. "You're wrong, Dean. This wasn't some act of mercy or proof that Sam is still good somewhere deep inside. It was a whim. Maybe Chuck begged. Maybe Sam's need for murder was already spent with Gabriel. Maybe he was saving Chuck for another day. Maybe he was doing this, giving you false hope that he's still in there somewhere!"

Dean looked to Lucifer, searching for support, but he was staring down at the floor, his face miserable.

"The thing that killed Gabriel wasn't Sam; it's what's become of who he was," Bobby said. "Sam knows you well enough to know exactly how to screw with your mind. He pretended to be a ghost because he knew it would hurt you. He said he was hurting to get to you. Think of everything he's done. None of that was our Sam, but it was still Sam. There is no clue to good in this, Dean. It's just more proof that he's gone."

"He has to be stopped," Castiel said.

"We can't kill him," Dean said.

"We cannot," Lucifer agreed, and then he focused on Castiel. "You will not."

"But we have to do something," Castiel said emphatically.

"That's what Chuck is doing," Lucifer said calmly. "He is finding a way to stop him and save him at the same time."

"And if there is no way?" Castiel asked. "What do we do? It's not just about us or Sam now. You said yourself that he is gunning for the world as a whole now. We can't let him succeed just because we care for him."

"I won't," Lucifer said. "I will stop him because I am still fighting for the man he was. The real Sam wouldn't want to hurt anyone."

Castiel shook his head. "And if you fail? If Sam kills you, too?" He hesitated then pushed on. "We had an idea, a plan. I think we need to talk about it again now we have you."

"What is the plan?" Lucifer asked, a glint in his eyes that Dean thought Castiel had missed completely.

"The Cage," Castiel said. "We have the rings still. We can open a channel to the Cage and send Sam into it."

"No," Lucifer said.

"Lucifer, you have to see…" Castiel said pleadingly.

"No!" he snapped. "The Cage is misery and loneliness. I was there for millennia and you know what happened to me. This is not a solution for Sam. He will not suffer an eternity there."

"But he can create his own surroundings," Castiel said.

"It's not the same," Lucifer growled. "Empty shells of people. Think what you are asking, Castiel. If Sam was to go there, even if Dean was to live another fifty years, Sam would spend six-thousand years there before Dean dies. And it wouldn't end there. Until the end of the universe, Heaven and Hell, Sam would be there." He breathed hard. "You think you saw true Hell when you rescued Dean, Castiel, but you didn't. You saw pain. Dean even doesn't know what it would be like for Sam to be locked there for even the time he spent in Hell. I would not wish that fate on anyone, least of all Sam. I will not allow that to happen to the man I love! Banish that idea from your mind, Castiel. You will never mention it again. Do you understand?"

Castiel quailed under his anger and nodded.

"Okay, that's off the table," Bobby said, and Dean was impressed at his calm tone in the face of the raging archangel. "What do we do then?"

"We wait for Chuck," Lucifer said. "We have to hope that he finds something soon and that Sam doesn't do anything else while we're waiting."

"And if he does?" Castiel asked.

"We deal with it," Lucifer said. "There is little we cannot do between us."

Castiel nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. "We hope."

"Yes, Castiel. We hope because to give up that is to fail. And I will not fail him again."

Sam set down the razor and sighed.

It wasn't the same. Torturing a soul after fighting an archangel was dull. There was no satisfaction to be had in the cries and screams when there was no burgeoning light beneath the skin, no possible resistance. He considered freeing the souls from the rack and chasing them around the levels of Hell as that insane Benders family had wanted to do with him, but he didn't think even that would satisfy him.

"I'm bored, Bob," he said tiredly to the demon at his side.

"Sir?"

"Torturing them now is like switching from Singer's rotgut whiskey to Crowley's fine single malt scotch and then back again. Gabriel was exquisite liquor. This is throat-burning, liver-destroying swill. I need single malt again."

She considered. "You need an archangel."

"I do. Unfortunately, there is only one left. I wouldn't mind killing him, but once I have, the whiskey is gone forever. I don't want to lose that already. The anticipation is almost as good as the drink. I will save him for a special occasion, a birthday, or perhaps my last kill before the world becomes truly mine. He should be savored and his death celebrated. I wish I hadn't rushed Gabriel now. I didn't take nearly long enough after he was disarmed."

He had chosen not to tell the demons that the disarmed archangel was actually a trick. The real kill had been a lucky strike at the right moment. Had he not heard Gabriel behind him, it could have ended very differently. No one else knew that though, and there was no need to tell anyone that part of it. It wasn't like Gabriel could spill the secret since he was dead and now wherever it was angels went after they died. The fact Sam had killed an archangel was doing even more for his respect among the foot soldiers after all.

"I need a challenge, Bob."

"What about a lesser, angel, Sir?"

Sam considered. "That might work, I guess. It'll be an improvement on a soul at least. Yes, I think that'll have to be it. They will at least be slightly more challenging."

"What can I do to help you, Sir?"

"I need some leather tools, a couple thick belts, and an angel."

"I will find those things at once, Sir."

Sam cupped her cheek. "I know you will. You're a good assistant, Bob. Truly. No one better."

Bob delivered fast. Sam took some time in Hell to tool the leather into what he needed, crafting it for an angel instead of a demon, and then set out topside. He'd had some lesser demons conducting a search while he worked, and he learned there were a group of angels that liked to congregate at Pima Point, a secluded spot on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. They were located ten miles from the nearest road, and Sam thought that would make a good point for him to target.

The idea of these angels spending time at the Grand Canyon amused him. He'd never seen it before, and he was almost looking forward to the experience of the view as much as he was the murders themselves. He liked to remind himself that it would all, the Grand Canyon included, be his soon. He might even take one of the hotels as his own base of operations. He would not have a 'court' like Crowley, he wasn't that insecure and in need of false adulation, but he would at least make sure he had a good seat to oversee his demons from. He would need a base on each continent, he realized. The Taj Mahal would be a good base for him for his Asian operations, and Buckingham Palace had a certain charm, too.

For a moment, he hesitated and probed his feelings. Was that going too far? Was he becoming Crowley-like in his decisions and plans? No. It was just basic common sense for a king to have somewhere to oversee his kingdom, and as the earth would be his kingdom, he would need more than one place to oversee from. It was completely appropriate and not remotely grandiose. He was fine, still being true to himself. His demon-self anyway. His human-self had been pathetic. A memory best forgotten. Which would be so much easier if there weren't annoying reminders everywhere. Such as his inability to find Chuck. He needed the alcoholic asshole dead for his own satisfaction, but he couldn't find him. Demons were looking, searching hard, but they were useless. Wherever Gabriel had sent him to, it was somewhere Sam couldn't find. He considered the fact he could even have trapped him inside one of his time loops like he had Sam and Dean once. That way Sam would have little chance of tracking him down. He could be in the same place, for one ever-repeating day, alone, for all eternity. He really needed to die. It was like a thorn in Sam's side. Each time he thought of it, he surged with annoyance. Not having killed him felt like a failure, and Sam hated failure.

Dean, Lucifer and the other two dumbasses were annoyances too. Dean, Castiel and Bobby had bested him by bringing the angels back, and that rankled. Lucifer was an annoyance just by merely existing at all. If he wasn't saving the killing for something special, he would deal with him now.

He needed to vent his frustration on some angels.

He took himself to within viewing distance of the spot the angels had chosen and peered across at them. There were six, dressed in tailored suits with their wings spread around them. Sam smiled to himself. Six would be interesting. He had only restraints enough for two, but he would make the others suffer too.

Sam muttered the Enochian he needed to bind their wings, uncertain if it would work at the distance. He was pleased when their wings closed in at their backs and they strained and attempted to stretch them. He walked toward them slowly, letting them see him come and know what it would mean for them.

"It's Sam Winchester!" one cried, pointing, and Sam laughed.

"The name is actually Sir," he said.

One of them was braver than the others. Hilariously so in fact. When Sam reached them, he bristled and said, "We will not call you Sir. You are an abomination, not a leader.

"I know thousands of demons that would disagree," Sam said conversationally.

"More abominations," he spat.

Sam drew the Blade and ran a thumb along its edge. "I think you're going to be last." He circled the angel who was obviously uncomfortable but refusing to look at him at all. Sam used his arrogance to pull the restraints from his jacket and throw them around him. He drew them tight and knotted them in place. The angel bucked and struggled, but he was trapped, only able to use his legs. Sam almost hoped he would try to run so he could drag him back.

"Dlvgar Etharzi," he said conversationally, silencing their minds.

He knew it had worked at once, as they looked at each other, confused and worried.

"What did you do?" the bound angel asked.

"What do you think I did?" Sam asked.

"I can't hear," he said.

"Then that's your answer, isn't it? You're cut off from the group call." He clapped his hand against the Blade. "Okay. Since we're all here for the duration, you might as well try to get along. Unless one of you put in a 911 call before I turned off the radio, we have a lot of time to spend together. You can run if you like. I'll catch you, of course, but it might be funny anyway.

They exchanged a glance and, almost at the same second, straightened their backs. If Sam didn't know better, he would think they were still communicating on their heavenly radio band. It seemed being stupid and proud was a trait among the angels.

"Awesome," he said. "Let's get to work then."

He walked around the tallest female and appraised her. She was interesting, with her look of loathing and chin held high. It pissed him off a little, too, though. As he walked behind her, he cut his blade through the back of her legs, severing her hamstrings. She screamed and fell to the ground, blue-white light spilling from wounds.

The bound angel roared with rage, as the others rushed towards her. Sam held up the Blade to block them and they backed away.

"Who's next?"

The angels glared balefully at him, and then, inexplicably, one raised her hand. As soon as they saw what she was doing, the other three able-bodied angels did the same.

"Are we doing high-fives?" Sam asked mockingly.

"No," one said as bright light began to spill from her hand and flood the air.

It spread from the other angels too, and Sam felt heat on his face, like standing too close to a burner. It seemed to build, and he grew uncomfortable, but then it stopped. They lowered their hands, looking almost afraid. Sam remembered this from Lucifer's lessons. It was called a grace channeling, and if he was a regular demon, he would have been toasted. It seemed being a Knight and King had benefits.

"That was supposed to do more than give me a suntan, right?" he asked. He pointed his blade at the angel that started it, and said. "That was rude. You'll go last instead of him." He jabbed the bound angel with the handle of the Blade."

Inexplicably, she smiled and shook her head. "No. I won't."

She raised her face to the night sky and her mouth opened as blue-white light poured out of her and into the air. The body she had occupied dropped to the ground and the grace flew away into the stars.

"Damn," Sam said. "That's annoying. Hands up if you think she's heading to Sioux Falls?"

Instead of replying, the angels left tilted their heads and escaped into the air, even the one he'd hamstringed left her broken body to die to she could escape. The only one that remained was the bound angel.

He was pissed that he only had one victim left, but he would make this one special.

He brought the blade to the angel's chest and cut away the shirt. "Let's begin."

So… Some more torture for Sammy. I'd feel a little bad about it if angels weren't generally giant dicks.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx