Under the all-seeing light of a full moon, the' Pit-Stop to Perdition' biker bar was at the corner of a rural crossroads where nothing else stoor. The place was old, with neon advertisements flickering intermittently with missing letters. Chicken wire was embedded in the glass windows to prevent break-ins. A few rusted bullet holes decorated the pockmarked metal siding that made up the outside walls.

It was so stereotypical that Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes when he parked in front of it. Course a bunch of demons would hang out here. It only got better when he left the Impala and passed a row of vintage, road-worn Harley-Davidson motorcycles. The logo of a skull with wings was on most of the bikes-Hell Angels, seriously? It was so on the nose he would've laughed if not for the two giants wearing leather skullcaps and vests guarding the main entrance.

While trying to look intimidating, the black smoke of their true faces started buzzing in panic after one look at Dean. Whatever Cas had done to make him come off with an angelic aura was apparently working. Once they opened the doors to let him pass, he glared at them as hard as possible just because he could.

Dean had to concentrate so he wouldn't balk at the sheer number of demons in the room. At least two dozen strong (all with swirling black faces) surrounded Sam and Ruby, gagged and tied up to two wooden chairs. Sam had a shiner over his eye but seemed otherwise unhurt, and Ruby sported a bloody split lip. Dean was surprised she put up a fight but had to give kudos she'd tried (for Sam at least).

In a navy three-piece suit, a spindly man stood out amongst the Hells Angels bikers and some of the bar staff (going by the stained aprons around their waists). The demon bowed to him slightly and pulled out a pocket watch on a gold chain. He clicked open the top and hummed in approval. "Very impressive, Castiel! Not a second to spare."

"Nextus," Dean rasped, recognizing the demon's nasally tone. He tilted his head towards Sam and Ruby. "Release them, and then you can have Dean Winchester."

Sam struggled against the ropes, angry cursing muffled by the bandana stuffed into his mouth.

Nextus chuckled lightly. "Sorry, angel. Deal's gotta go through first." He spoke in that tone used by customer service representatives to soften the blow of upcoming inconvenience.

Dean fixed the demon with one of Cas's patented narrow-eyed glares. "You dare to question the word of an angel?" He growled dangerously. The demons around him shifted slightly out of arm's reach.

Nextus said scornfully, "You'll have to forgive me, but the word of a Fallen is barely worth more than that of the lowest demon in the Pit. At least the demon sticks to a side," he alleged. "If you stand for nothing, you'll Fall for it every time."

Dean didn't even have to pretend to be Cas to find that offensive. "Did you just insult me with wordplay?" When Nextus shrugged, he retorted, "Least I'm not an abomination with shitty fashion taste."

"Oh, that wounds me," Nextus sarcastically hissed. "I thought we were getting along so well."

The balls on this guy must be made of adamantium. He'd never imagined a demon could be so flippant towards an angel. "Are we doing this or not, demon?" Dean demanded.

With a charming smile, the demon snapped his fingers, and a single piece of parchment appeared on the closest, sticky-topped table to them. He waved to it. "It's all here in black-and-white-"

Dean barely heard what he said next because he was listening for something outside the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the lack of shadows of the two guards outside the doors, but that was all. Shit, is everything okay?

There was no response to his question, but Nextus was silently watching him. "Do you agree with those terms, Castiel?"

There was a thoughtful hum in the back of his mind. I think I found a better distraction.

In the distance was the trademark roar of a Harley coming to life outside the bar. Considering all the bike owners were inside, everyone turned to look at Dean. Uh...Cas?

I suggest you duck.

The Harley's engine grew louder as the bike was forcefully thrown through the wall behind him. Plaster and cement rained down on everyone as the demons scattered. Several were caught by the flying motorcycle and trapped under it once it landed on the music stage.

Dean flung himself towards the demons on the far side of the bar. He needed to draw their attention long enough for Cas to get to Sam and Ruby. As demons surrounded Dean, he saw Cas appear behind them, and with a flick of his wrist, the ropes binding them shredded.

Ruby immediately launched herself into a trio of demons trying to recapture her. One of the demons, a waitress, had the demon knife tucked into the waistline of her shorts. Ruby grabbed the knife with vicious precision and used her as a meatshield as she stabbed the others. Then she shoved the waitress onto a table and shived her in the kidney before moving on to deal with the ones trapped under the still running motorcycle.

Meanwhile, Dean had dropped Cas's tri-bladed angel sword from his sleeve into his hand and was wildly slashing at demons with abandon, trying to keep their attention. Once he saw Sam stand up and smash his chair against a demon's back like he'd seen once too many WWE matches as a kid, Dean truly let loose. After all, he didn't need to worry about delivering precise kill shots. He just needed to get the demons down long enough for Cas to mop them up.

And mop up he did. Flashes of white light erupted around them as Cas grabbed two demons at a time and shoved them against the wall, over a table, or to the ground and smote them as fast as possible. Dean couldn't even see Cas moving around the room since he needed every drop of energy for the smiting.

After he'd broken it, Sam had ripped apart the chair and was wielding a leg as a make-shift stake. Hearing a loud groan of pain, Sam saw Dean hit the floor hard after a hard punch from the bartender. From a hidden interior pocket of his shirt, a metal flask with a cross on it skittered across the floor.

Without thinking, Sam reached out and yoinked the flask towards him via telekinesis. Demons around him leaped away when Sam opened the flask and doused the stake in the water as well as his hands. Then he flung the rest of the flask's contents in a wide arc in Dean's direction so he could try to get to his brother. Sam punched like he had wrecking balls for hands before the addition of the holy water. Now, demons on the receiving end of his fists got burned as their skulls cracked.

The demonic barkeep had Dean on his back and had picked up the angel blade. He was bearing down on the edge with all his weight and easily had fifty pounds on Dean. The tip of the sword dug into Dean's neck, and he swallowed harshly. A trickle of blood pearled from the wound; just as the demon shoved the blade down, a familiar hand reached around to grasp his face. The demon screamed in pain as Cas burned him out from behind and then angrily shoved the corpse off of him.

Just as Cas held out a hand to get Dean to his feet, Sam flew through the air past them. Tossed like a ragdoll by another demon, his brother smashed into the wall of alcohol bottles behind the bar and dropped like a stone. The smell of the alcohol and the gas fumes from the bike made Dean's nose burn and his head dizzy.

"Shit, Sam!" Dean tried to hop the counter, but a couple of demons grabbed him by his arms and hauled him backward.

"On it!" As Cas wrestled the demons that had dared to grab Dean to the floor to burn them out, Ruby jumped onto a tabletop across the bar. With the grace of a gazelle, she leaped from one table to another, kicking demon's heads-breaking noses or jaws as she went. Once at the bar, she lithely boosted herself over the counter and dropped behind it.

There was a lull for a second, and Dean took in the wrecked bar and the demons scattered around them. From what Dean could gather at a glance, about ten demons left, and they all looked terrified as they stayed far out of his reach. Cas flickered next to Dean. With his angel blade back in his hand, he twirled it until the blade pointed down. Dean put up his fists with his bruised and bloodied knuckles and bounced on the balls of his feet. The adrenaline pumping through him made him feel invincible. "Come on!" He taunted a couple of demons closest to them.

With surprised screams, those demons went flying across the room. They crashed heavily into various tables, the cracking of wood splitting the air. Glancing over his shoulder, Dean saw Sam back to his feet, but then his brain froze.

Sam's right hand stretched out towards the demons who had gone flying. His teeth and lips were bloody, and the black smoke that had disappeared was covering Sam's skin with thickly waving tendrils. The same mist that had been on his skin during the Rugaru case-oh God, Sam, what have you done?

Ruby popped up next to him, her jacket missing and a bloody cut on her forearm. The demon-killing knife was held in her hand as she surveyed the room. Dean saw Cas staring at them in horrified realization; he couldn't ask what was happening because the last few demons were angrily regrouping and-

An invisible hand grabbed Dean's shirt; he was dragged through the entirety of the bar until he slammed into a wall. Everything went a little hazy around the edges, but the few demons left were now between him and his allies.

Nexus appeared in front of him, grabbed him with both hands, and slammed him back-first onto the butcher block bar counter next to them. The air was forced from Dean's lungs as his spine and ribs took the brunt of the fall. Before he could get a lungful of air, the demon's hand was wrapped around his throat and squeezing hard. Dean grabbed his arm, but it was trying to move a tree. The edge of his vision was going black as he kicked out his legs, trying to use his weight to push the demon.

Dean could barely see the chaos past Nextus's shoulder. Demons were attacking Sam and Ruby with the same viciousness he'd only seen at the hands of the Croatoan virus victims. They were literally trying to rip them apart with hands and blunt human teeth.

Another hard squeeze, and Dean knew his number was going to up in a few short seconds. Cas's face was pale, and he was flinging demons out of the way to get to him. "Dean!"

"Should have taken the deal, my boy," Nexus said in disappointment. A few errant tears slipped down Dean's face. Barely able to lift his arms, the sounds of the fight around him a dulled murmur, Dean swiped the tears onto his thumb and jammed it into Nextus' eye. The salt from the tear was just enough to force the demon to stumble back with a pained yelp.

Behind the demon, Sam threw out his hand, and Nextus coughed: once, twice, a slow trickle of black smoke trailed from his open mouth.

Dean rolled down his side and tried to lean up, but he was distracted as he watched Sam's face scrunch up in concentration. Blood began to trickle from his nose over his lips, but he let out a final, triumphant snarl and closed his fist. The last of the demon smoke sank into the floor, leaving behind a circle of soot where the empty meatsuit collapsed.

Cas was at Dean's side and helped him swing his legs down to get back onto the floor. Dean curled his right around his middle-probably a cracked rib from the throbbing pain there-and stared at Sam when his brother gell to this knees, sucking in ragged, panting breathes. Dean could hear him humming in pain because the fighting had stopped.

Dean wasn't sure what to do, but it was second nature to check on Sam first, so he slowly went over to him. "What'd you do?" he hissed since it hurt to breathe and swallow.

"I exorcised it." Sam's answer was muffled because his head was cradled in his hands.

"Where did you pick up this little party trick?" Dean asked quietly as he crouched next to Sam.

"Ruby showed me," was the quiet answer he got.

When Dean looked up, he was met with an unreadable expression clouding Cas's face. "We need to leave," he said stiffly.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and threw it over his shoulder to get him to his feet. "Not a fucking word, Sam, I swear to God." It was taking all his nerve to hold onto Sam despite being able to see those tendrils wriggling over his skin. Sam's clothes were soaked from the alcohol, and there were bloody cuts and scrapes everywhere.

As they wove around the demon corpses littering the bar, Ruby walked out from the back room. "All clear, but there's no way that leader didn't send out some sort of S.O.S. We need to get out of here."

They exited through the double doors, and they passed the corpse of the two guards, eyes burned out, and left at their posts. As the brothers hustled to the Impala, the full moon overhead was the only witness to the chaos they left behind.

Following just a few steps behind them, Ruby stopped at the open doors as if she walked into an invisible wall. "Hey!" She called out, catching their attention. "I'm on your side, dumbasses!"

Sam and Dean turned to see a thick line of salt was preventing her from leaving. "Cas salted the outside while I held that dick's attention," Dean explained.

Cas walked purposefully up to where she was trapped. Obviously, Ruby didn't react when he stopped right in front of her. Seeing his eyes narrowed and lips drawn to a thin line, Dean realized something was up and asked, "Cas?"

Without a word, Cas reached his hand out over the salt line and grabbed her coat lapel with his left hand, and he shoved his right hand against her forehead.

There was no struggle; her blood-curdling screams echoed around the crossroad before they faded away. Ruby's eyeless, burnt-out corpse collapsed at Cas's feet. He gave her the same disgusted sneer that one would give a cockroach underfoot.

Dean choked out a shout of surprise, but he didn't have time to say anything; Sam's legs gave out as his brother snarled out a "What the fuck?!" and immediately fainted.

Cas didn't speak; he swept past them and opened up the two driver-side doors so Dean could shove Sam into the backseat before climbing behind the wheel.

Cas reappeared in the passenger seat, staring down into the back at Sam. Once the Impala's engine was purring under him, Dean looked at the destroyed bar and had an idea. Leaving the car to idle, he went digging into the trunk for the old flare gun. With careful aim, he fired the single shot straight through the hole Cas had created. It flew inside with a loud hiss like a firecracker, and the bar exploded.

The heat blasted across Dean's skin as the building rapidly caught fire. He shoved the flare gun back into the trunk and swung the Impala around to haul ass from the crime scene, gravel shooting out from behind her tires. Hopefully, the fire would burn everything identifiable, and no one would be the wiser.

Cas hadn't taken his eyes off Sam. "Bobby's, now," he ordered.

"You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?"

Cas nodded morosely. "I'll tell you everything I know; just hurry, Dean."

When Sam woke up on the old, stained cot in the panic room, Dean was stoically watching him through the little hinged metal flap in the vault door. Sam glanced around and swung his legs to the floor, hand to his head as he grunted in pain. He patted himself down, noticing that he'd been cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, including his favorite indie band shirt. The cuts and scrapes on his arms had been patched up as well.

He spent an extra moment running his fingers over the soft, threadbare fibers of his shirt before he noticed Dean behind the open flap. Gingerly he got the socked feet and made his way over, smoothing down his hair as he went. "Dean, why am I in here?"

The question was asked in such a nonchalant, normal-ass tone that Dean thought he had imagined those black tendrils on his skin for a second. When they began to move, his temper broke. "You lied to me, Sam! Over and over, you played me like a fucking fiddle!" Dean's hands flew to the sides, yet he pulled back enough to quietly demand, "What else can you do?"

Sam rubbed his neck, unable to look Dean in the eye. "I can exorcise demons-"

"With your mind?!" Dean took a few steps away but immediately stomped right back. "Can't you see how far from human you've fallen, Sam?" Dean yelled.

"I've had demon blood in me, Dean, my entire life!" Sam screamed back. "It's not something that can be ripped out or scrubbed clean!" He was breathing hard and wiped the back of his hand over his face. "You were gone, Dean. You were dead, and I had to keep going."

"Ruby got you to drink demon blood," Dean said simply.

Sam came up short at that; the wind knocked momentarily from his sails. "How did you-?"

"Cas figured it out and clued me in."

Dean was surprised to see Sam's face grow paler at that as he dropped his gaze. "Cas...knows?"

Dean crossed his arms and waited; usually, it would be almost impossible to out-stubborn his brother, but Sam looked green around the edges.

"Ruby helped me so that I would be strong enough to go after Lilith," Sam finally admitted.

"And there it is," Dean said triumphantly while throwing his hands up. "This isn't about being the bigger man. This is about revenge, plain and simple. Have you noticed that I'm here? That I'm back? There's no reason to go after Lilith anymore, especially not with Cas on our side!"

"She's never going to let you stay alive, Dean," Sam intoned. "She will drag you back to Hell. I can't let that happen! I can't let you die for me again. If she's dead, she can't hurt you or anyone ever again! So let me out of here."

Dean shook his head. "I dunno how long you've been drinking that shit, but you are not setting foot from this room until you are fully human again." He glared at the black mist curling over Sam's skin; it began to writhe as his brother scowled.

"Why does it matter? I'm helping people-I can pull demons out of people. How is that not a good thing?"

Because I can literally see what it's doing to you..."You can use the knife without becoming a demonic vampire!"

"The knife kills the victim, but I'll be able to pull the demon and save them!" Sam ran his hands through his hair. "I know I'm tainted and corrupted, Dean. I have nothing else to offer the world-let me at least use this fucking curse to do something good."

All the anger drained out of Dean like water from an open dam. He tried to speak but couldn't get his voice under control to manage it. After a couple of tries, he croaked out, "Are you shitting me right now? 'Nothing to offer?' Sam, that's fucking bullshit."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really! You're the best person I know. You have a literal angel who considers you his friend-"

Sam laughed bitterly. "Stop lying to me, Dean. Stop stalling and tell me why I'm really in here." When Dean didn't speak, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. "Is this some sort of supernatural drug intervention? For god's sake, Dean-"

There's no getting through to him right now. Dean sucked in a steadying breath. "Just...you can hate me all you want but trust me. This is what's best."

The unwavering finality of Dean's words got Sam's attention; he looked up in time to see Dean slam the little hinge closed and lock it. Immediately there was a frantic pounding from the other side of the iron door.

"What the fu-Dean? DEAN!"

He managed to walk away without turning back or pausing. Once Dean hit the wooden steps leading to the kitchen, he sat down heavily. Scrubbing both hands over his face, he found Cas standing next to him. With his shoulders slumped and eyes hooded, Cas turned towards the iron door. "We have to tell him."

Dean cradled his head in his hands. "It'll break him, Cas. I can't do that." His voice was tiny as his eyes grew misty. He rubbed at them with the palms of his eyes. "I can't do that. He just needs to ride it out; he doesn't need to know, got it?"

Cas disappeared with a frustrated grunt. After a few moments, he trudged upstairs and sat on the edge of Bobby's desk. They both listened to Sam's screaming and pounding on the iron vault door. Dean stared at the cheap whiskey Bobby was drinking but made no move to drink any himself. When Bobby offered to pour him a glass, Dean held up his hand.

"Might as well save it," Dean sighed. "Cas prevents me from feeling it, and this shit is not worth just drinking for the taste."

Bobby hummed and just refilled his glass. "We sure this is the right thing to do?"

"No, but it's not like we've got a demon detox manual to look at," Dean said.

Bobby grimaced at another faint, furious scream. Dean deliberately stepped into his line of sight when he glanced towards the door that led downstairs. "Are there any supplies that you need to get from town?"

"You want me to ditch you?" Bobby stared at him

"I can handle him, especially with Cas as back-up. Why make you listen?"

"He's my boy as much as you are. Even though I want to shove him into the car crusher on principle at the moment," he muttered into the rim of his glass.

When Dean didn't move, Bobby rolled his eyes. He tossed back the rest of his drink as he acquiesced. "Fine. Guess I'll get a list together and head on out."

Within the hour, the taillights from Bobby's Chevelle disappeared out towards the main road. After taking a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat, Dean turned back towards the kitchen door to see Cas standing behind him.

"Dean," he said softly. "I'd give anything for Sam to not go through this, nor for you to be forced to watch."

He blinked hard several times at a particularly faint scream of pain. Seeing Cas wear such a heartbroken expression spurred him to action. Nope, not going to mope around. Gotta do something, anything.

"Dean?" Ignoring Cas's concern, he headed back inside, making a mental checklist of things he'd need. Staying there for years meant Dean knew where everything was, so he walked around with a singular yet mute determination. Up to the linen closet for washcloths, towels, a clean, faded plastic bucket. Returning to the kitchen, he opened the fridge and (with a sigh) bypassed the unopened 6-pack for the water bottles instead. He threw everything into the bucket then carted it downstairs.

The only words he said aloud to Cas's worrying form was, "Open the door and lock it behind us."

Sam was on the floor next to the cot, crumbled over in pain, forehead slick with sweat. "Dean?"

Hearing his baby brother's voice crack almost broke him; the click of the lock resetting behind him helped to strengthen his resolve. Silently, Dean set the bucket on the floor next to Sam and sat on the cot beside him. He opened a bottle and soaked a washcloth over the bucket. After wringing it out, he pushed Sam up slightly so he could hold the wet cloth to Sam's clammy forehead.

"Why are you here, Dean?" Sam's voice wavered, but his eyes were still bright as they glowered at him. "You don't care."

Dean jerked as if struck; the cloth dropped from Sam's forehead. He bit his lip so hard Dean felt blood trickle down his chin. He had to focus on that pain; otherwise, he was going to rip Sam's head from its shoulders and punt it across the damn panic room. Bobby's gonna return to a fucking crime scene-

Cas's hand on his shoulder dragged him from his violent reverie. He doesn't know what he's saying, Cas offered, his raspy voice quiet in Dean's mind.

Dean closed his eyes and aimed his next thought, specifically at Cas. I've run into junkies; I know how it goes when you're between them and their stash. I just never thought Sam would become one...

The mental conversation trick was helpful as hell, but he was still getting used to it. The pain from his lip disappeared before Cas moved away to crouch in front of Sam. When Dean touched Sam's shoulder, he flinched back from Cas's all-seeing gaze just inches from him.

"You're wrong, Sam. The problem isn't that Dean doesn't care. Honestly, he cares too much."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or are you just here to be his cheerleader?" Sam asked. Cas narrowed his eyes, but he pulled Sam to his feet and helped him lay on his back on the cot. Dean grabbed the chair at the desk and dragged it over to sit at Sam's head. He carefully placed the washcloth back on Sam's forehead.

"Sam," Cas said sternly. "Listen to me. You have to purge the blood from your body as quickly as possible. You don't understand how important this is."

Something about Cas's tone caught Sam's attention; he sat up on his elbows. "What aren't you telling me?"

At a loss, Cas sighed. "We...I didn't want to worry you," He corrected. "But Dean was only the beginning. You are supposed to be the end."

"The end to what?"

Cas told him everything about the seals, their destinies as vessels, and Sam's to release Lucifer. All the while, Dean just kept the washcloth cool and pressed to Sam's forehead. He watched the amulet hanging from his neck swaying like a hypnotist's pendulum. It was better than witnessing Sam break with every word Cas spoke.

"Lilith is immortal and immune to everything except you. I knew demon blood was involved, but I thought the demons were going to kidnap you. Force feed you the blood." Cas paced next to the bed with his hands curled into fists. "Ruby being a double-agent never truly crossed my mind," Cas said apologetically.

"Me neither," Sam admitted after a long time of stunned silence. "So, not only am I a corrupted asshole, but I'm a stupid, corrupted asshole, too." His hazel eyes bored into Dean with an impressive intensity despite being glazed over with fever. "You knew and wouldn't tell me?"

"Sam, how could I do that? As long as I didn't break, you were on a need-to-know basis."

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. You can't always protect me or fight my battles!" Sam snapped.

Dean pulled back and flung the cloth into the bucket next to him. His mind flashed with memories of Sam: first learning to drive the Impala, of pulling Sam from his dorm fire, of holding Sam as he died in his arms at Cold Oak. The shared pranks, take-out dinners, arguments over sports, and everything in between because they spent their entire lives in each other's pockets.

"You might not be a kid, but you're still my kid-my kid brother-and still the smartest dumbass I know."

When Sam opened his mouth, Dean spoke over him. "This is going to suck, and you're going to hate my guts, but I'm not ditching you. Besides, I don't care who's supposed to ride you to the prom, Satan or Santa Claus; I'll kill either one." Dean made it a point to wave between him and Cas. "We aren't leaving you."

Sam curled onto his side and let out a painful groan. Dean held onto his shoulder. "Easy, Sammy, easy," he soothed. "We got you."

Meeting Cas's eyes, he said loudly, "Cas, once upon a time, you saved my ass. Think you can help my pain-in-the-ass little brother?"

Cas leaned down and placed two fingers against Sam's temple to ease the pain. One of Sam's eyes cracked open to look up at him. "Just leave me alone," he groaned.

The angel shook his head. "What sort of friend would I be to abandon you in your time of need?" Gently, he brushed back a lock of sweaty hair from Sam's head. "People make stupid decisions for good reasons. It's your willingness to perform penance that makes you worthy."

Dean huffed as he rewet the cloth. "What fortune cookie did you get that from?"

"Just something I've learned the hard way," Cas said.

Bobby came to check on them once he'd returned and replenished their supplies of washcloths and water. He wasn't able to sit in on Sam-his phones were ringing off the hook. Demons were pouring out of the woodwork around the country, searching for them; the other hunters were swamped.

Dean never left the panic room; for once, being plugged into an angel battery was a good thing. It meant he wasn't hungry or tired and never needed to take a piss. He hummed his way through Metallica's "Master of Puppets" album multiple times as he kept watch over his brother. Sam probably would have griped about being that on the nose. Still, a song about overcoming addiction was appropriate (as was the rest of the album) so sue him.

Sam had fleeting moments of conscientiousness, and it was during those moments Dean would coax him into eating. Bobby would eat up chicken noodle soup on the stove and bring servings down whenever Sam could keep it down. Afterward, either naturally or with Cas's help, he'd pass back out.

Sometimes, though, Sam would begin convulsing. Springing into action, Cas held Sam down with one hand on his chest as he touched two fingers to his forehead. Dean watched in awe as Cas rumbled in another language under his breath while he concentrated. Sometimes Dean had to shove his belt into Sam's mouth so he wouldn't bite off his tongue during those convulsions.

Whatever Cas was doing (tongue-twisters, spellwork, praying?), it would ease the violent shaking until Sam was sleeping again.

Then they'd meet each other's eyes, and both look away. In those quiet moments, as his heart stopped racing from worry, he wanted to revisit that kiss in the alley. But he was a damn coward. Besides, he was certain Cas didn't want the same thing (if he wanted anything). I'm just the taxi. He tried to remind himself repeatedly.

Hours later, maybe even days at this point, Sam scared the shit out of him by letting out a demonic roar and fucking levitating off the goddamn bed.

"Bobby!" Dean screamed. The old man opened the door and threw himself over Sam's legs to weigh him down. Dean was at his head and holding down his shoulders for dear life.

Cas straddled Sam's hips, hands to his brother's temples even as Sam tossed his head back and forth and started speaking a language he'd never heard before. Cas's eyes darted frantically behind closed lids as he tried to fight off the inner demons stubbornly hanging on. "Come on, Sam, fight it!" He growled.

"Come on, Sam, kick its ass!" Dean yelled.

Bobby added, "Don't let it beat ya, boy, you got this!"

Cas began chanting the same language from earlier and the smoke coming from Sam's skin writhed in agony. With a sudden hum, the lightbulbs in the room popped and shattered.

It was like the gas station again-that sudden dead silence as everything stopped. Sam collapsed back onto the cot, laying scarily still.

"Sammy?" Dean dared to ask. Cas opened his eyes, and they darted over Sam's peaceful face. He sighed in relief as Sam took in a normal breath.

"It's over," Cas reported.

Dean didn't need Cas's confirmation; the black tendrils had disappeared completely. He had his brother back.

Sam slept peacefully in his too-small guest bed upstairs. Though technically guest bedrooms, one of the perks of staying over at Bobby's place was that they each had their own room, with a door that shut and locked, a luxury they didn't have growing up.

Dean was lying on the porch; legs splayed down the steps. His arm was flung over his eyes to prevent the afternoon sun from blinding him. Unconsciously, he grasped the amulet in his free hand. The silence around him was unnerving after everything, so he squeezed hard. Sam's okay. He's alive and sleeping it off.

When he felt the familiar prickle on the back of his neck, he cracked open an eye to see Cas was sitting next to him. His tanned forearms were wrapped around his knees as he gazed out over the junkyard. Cas gave him a genuine smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

If Dean thought he was gone before...that smile just sank my battleship.

Instead, Dean asked, "How long do you think Sam will be out?"

"I don't know," Cas admitted, the smile fading back to his usual stoicism. "Never had to help a human with a demon blood detox before."

"Should we write a manual?" Dean joked. "I mean, if someone could have warned me about that Excorcist shit, in the end, I'd have appreciated the heads up. At least he didn't puke pea soup everywhere-"

A wave of exhaustion hit him like a train, and he yawned so wide his jaw clicked. He was so startled by it he glared at Cas directly. "Did you just unplug me?"

"You need to rest too, Dean," was all Cas said.

With his limbs feeling like lead weights, the idea of crawling his ass upstairs onto to listen to Sam sawing logs was the anthesis of restful. The afternoon sun glinted off the chrome mirror of the Impala parked a few steps away; he wasn't strong enough to ignore that siren's call.

As he crawled into the backseat, yawning every few seconds, Dean allowed himself to let down his guard a little. Bobby's place might have had separate rooms with doors, but the Impala was his and Sam's real home. Always had been, might always be. Surrounded by the memories of their shared lives, Dean was asleep before he balled up his flannel for a make-shift pillow.

End Notes:

So much happened in this story! I'm so happy that I was able to explore the idea of Dean helping Sam with his detox. When I first saw the episode years ago, I literally couldn't understand why he wouldn't help Sam! I know there are probably reasons but it still seemed so cruel for nothing. So I have gotten to live out that dream, yay!

Favorite parts? Thoughts on what might happen in the future?