Chapter 2: Tear me down, build me up

Sam's hands shook as he reached for his brother's torn body, eyes filling with tears and feeling as if someone ripped his heart out through his rib cage. Logically he knew this was just one more death in the lines of many and that he had so many options to bring him back, but still, seeing him like this, reliving his first, most gruesome death was devastating. He reached, feeling the need to touch him, to tell him he will save him, he will bring him back, but his younger version stopped him dead in his tracks.

"No! You fuck off! You did this!!! This is all your fault!!!" He screamed as he threw himself over Dean's body and the older Sam let out a shaky breath, but nodded, swallowing down the bile. He watched as his younger self sobbed and clung onto Dean's mutilated body, Bobby sighing heavily and pinching his lips tight, his own eyes watering.

"I can bring him back." Older Sam whispered, but didn't seem as convincing as he should be.

Eventually, younger Sam calmed down, enough to wrap Dean's remains in a blanket they had in the Impala and carry his body all by himself into the car. He placed him in the passenger seat, the only other place he belonged and Bobby and the older Sam. They drove in silence for the next five hours, the deft silence in the car making it harder and harder for Sam to breathe. He kept replaying it all in his head, trying to figure out if he could have done anything different, but Azazel, no matter how low on the scale he was compared to some other threats they dealt with, he was dangerous, and he had to make sure younger Sam survived.

And maybe Azazel taking Dean was Chuck trying to right his story, setting it back on the track.

Yet, by the time they reached Bobby's scrap yard, the tightening feeling in his chest grew along with a burning sensation in his shoulder. Something was definitely wrong. His younger self completely ignored him, opting instead to take the body of their deceased brother into the house all by himself. Sam stumbled out of the car, his knees barely supporting his weight while Bobby eyed him suspiciously.

By the time they reach the front door, Sam could barely catch his breath and it seemed as if every intake of air had less and less oxygen in it. "You gonna croak on me, boy?" Bobby asked, not showing a hint of worry, though Sam knew he must be feeling it.

"I… I don't… I don't know what's wrong." He replied, his voice coarse. He felt as if he swallowed needles and his head was pounding in a way he never felt before.

"If I were a bettin' man, I would be willing to bet you ain't 100 percent human." Bobby said, and Sam called his bluff.

"You are… a betting man, Bobby… And you're… fishing for my… reaction." Sam pushed out, walking through the front door and heading straight for the small dresser where Bobby kept his testing gear. Sam drank heavily from the flask containing the holy water, feeling a bit better than he did a second ago.

Sam easily pulled the silver knife hidden on the side of the dresser and, before Bobby could react, he cut himself to show no reaction to silver. "That rules out demonic possession and influence, and me being a shapeshifter, a ghoul or a revenant."

"You make it sound like there is something else out there that can pose as you. Or yer older self." Bobby replied, watching Sam slowly move into the kitchen. Sam sat, or more like sprawled on the closest chair, his expression pained and tired.

"Oh, yeah, no, there is a bunch of stuff. Could be a demi-god, like Loki. A huli jing, but they're mostly in East Asia. Can be an angel or archangel and morph reality. Death. Darkness. The Empty…" Sam listed, and Bobby just gaped at him, probably trying to figure out if he really was legit or if he had blown a casket. But Sam didn't mind. All he kept thinking about was getting to Dean, not because he could repeat history and break the first seal, but because Sam didn't want him to go through what he did before. The whole point of this was to alter the past, and not make Dean go through the same trauma that altered him to the core.

"Where is yer mind boy?" Bobby asked, and Sam blinked to reality, only then noticing the old coot was handing him a beer. He threw him a brief smile and took it, downing half of the bottle in one go.

"Oh, I missed your watered down beer." Sam said, strangely feeling a bit better after consuming holy water yet again.

"So you keep sayin'..." Bobby pointed out, and then a small frown crept on his face. "Did I at least go down fightin'?" He asked and Sam flinched. He didn't want to remember Bobby's demise, nor did he want to tell Bobby, but the old man seemed to pick up on that. "Don't need any details, boy. Just tell me if I made it count."

"Yeah… Yeah, you did."

"Alright. Now what's yer plan here? How you gonna bring Dean back?" Bobby asked and Sam took a deep breath, trying to figure that part one. There was one thing he knew for sure. He couldn't trust anyone to bring Dean back, and knew he had to do it himself.

"I'm gonna go down there and get him." He finally replied, after considering all his options. None of the old alliances would hold, he couldn't count on any of them from double-crossing them, not yet anyway. But there are things he knew, things that could make a difference, so when Bobby raised one very surprised brow at his response, Sam simply added "You know a priest that would be willing to bless something for us?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Younger Sam said, stomping downstairs and into the kitchen, his eyes red and still teary. The older Sam was currently imprinting devil's traps on a pair of metal cuffs, while Bobby was out, getting the things Sam needed. He sighed, looking over at the younger version of himself and remembering how it felt back then, how he was driven by anger and how he let it all cloud his judgement. Azazel took Jess, he took Dad, he took Dean (though in his version, it was more indirect, but still…) and he remembered how he wanted revenge. First on him, then on Lilith and on anyone who kept him apart from his family.

It was good, the anger fueling him, but it also blinded him and Sam knew he had to make his younger version see. Still, he knew how stubborn they were, so it would be no easy task. He extended the cuffs towards him, allowing him to see what he was imprinting on them.

"Devil's trap and a few more enhancement sigils… Symbols. These can keep a demon from using their powers and keep them bound to their vessel."

"I thought the point was to expel them, not make them feel at home." Younger Sam huffed dismissively, the anger shimmering just under the surface. He was ready to burst, but still was curious enough to give the older Sam the benefit of a doubt.

"Well, as far as I know, the demon I thought about trapping has an empty vessel, so…" When his younger version frowned at him at the statement, he added "... He doesn't share well." Like that explained how he knew about the demon in the first place. But the younger Sam must have been more curious than reserved, because he just nodded and asked for the plan.

"I was thinking of summoning this demon and make him take me down to hell." He said simply and younger Sam just stared at him for a few moments in complete disbelief before snapping.

"Are you freaking insane?! How are you gonna make a demon take you to hell?!? What, you can just stroll in there, alive?!? How can you even trust a demon to take you down?!?" Sam let him finish the first set of questions before calmly answering them.

"Yeah, a living person can go down to hell, but I am not trusting this demon with anything…"

"What, you gonna make a deal with him?" Younger Sam puffed, interrupting his older self.

"You can call it that. But it would be more like blackmail than a deal." That is what finally got the younger Sam to calm down, at least a bit. He took a moment to regard h is older version, the one that knew exactly what he was thinking and how his mind worked. "I am not gonna offer my soul to him, you know that." Older Sam said. "I am gonna offer him salvation."

There was still a mask of full confidence on Crowley's face even as he stood in the center of the devil's trap, glancing around the edges for a fault before looking back up (and up and up) at Sam.

"Well, you're quite a large one, aren't you?" The demon said in his well known British accent.

"I don't have time for small talk Crowley. I am looking to make a deal." Sam said, looking extremely serious.

"Must be one big deal when you summoned me to your den."

"Why do you think I summoned you, the king of Crossroads?" Sam said to flatter him just a bit. He knew it would get to his head and make him drop a bit of his guard.

"I am listening." Crowley's eyes definitely sparked up and he was probably already trying to figure out how to get the most out of this deal, clearly sensing it was big and important.

"You are going to take me down to Hell and help me save my brother."

"You know you can just wish him alive?"

"I trust you would throw in a catch, so no. I want to go get him myself." Sam replied.

"And I take it, you know how to put a soul back into a body?" Crowley asked, trying to find a loop, an inch he could take and turn into his own advantage.

"I do." Sam simply replied, making Crowley go eye-wide for a moment. Still, the demon quickly regained his composure and straightened up.

"I hope you know such an endeavor is going to require something more than just your soul."

"Oh, I didn't plan on offering my soul." Sam replied with a hint of a smirk.

"Then what exactly were you thinking of offering?"

"Your next fix."

Crowley frowned, his eyes boring into Sam's as he tried to figure out what the hell was the tall hunter talking about. He was confused and thrown off so much that he missed someone sneaking up on him before it was too late.

Sam stood idly and watched as his younger self had the satisfaction of creeping up on the demon and stabbing him with three syringes, injecting him with purified blood. Crowley shouted out, the force of the stabbing and the surge of fresh blood brought him to his knees. The older Sam noticed the look of satisfaction on his younger self's face and he didn't like it, knowing he was still under the influence of the demonic blood that was cruising through his system and thought about how he would have to deal with that too, eventually.

"What?... Why isn't he moving? Bobby? What's going on?" Younger Sam snapped him out of his thoughts and he gasped as a sharp pain punched right through his shoulder. It seemed as if the time stopped, but only for a few seconds before it tried to push through whatever barker was holding it frozen, making it seem like the two of them were trapped in some sort of super-slow-motion.

There, just between the two of them, and a bit to the left a figure tried to flicker in existence. "Sss…. Sam…" a voice tried to echo through, and Sam frowned, his stance immediately shifting to a guarded one. Younger Sam instantly noticed, so he copied him, eyes trained on the possible threat. "Sam!" The voice snapped, filled with fury that seemed to transfer to the figure's transcendence.

Chuck actually panted, as if this whole thing was straining him, but there was still enough power emitting from him to make it clear he was pissed. "What… What are you doing, Sam?! You're messing up the whole thing!"

"I am rewriting everything. I am fixing it all."

"Fixing?" Chuck asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You call this fixing? Dean is in Hell, a year ahead of schedule, you're screwing the whole timeline. I can't let you do this, Sam. This is my story, nor yours." Chuck said, leveling him with a death glare and nothing else. Sam huffed a laugh, realizing Chuck couldn't touch him.

"You can't stop me. If you could, you would have by now." Sam replied, reaching to touch his bullet wound. "It's this, isn't it?" He asked, putting pressure on the hole. Chuck hissed as Sam felt intense pain shoot right through him, but it was worth it. Looking around the room, time floating ten times slower, Sam came to get another conclusion.

"We're connected. It is taking everything you got just to be here, I can feel it. There is nothing you can do to stop me." Sam said, and could see Chuck fume. He glared at him for a few moments, and Sam's eyes shifted to his younger self for a split second, a split second too much. Chuck smirked.and brought his hands up.

"You're right, Sam. This story is… Not worth it. I can't hurt this you. But I can still wipe you from existence!" He said and turned towards the younger version. Power emanated from him in invisible waves, directed at the kid, and Sam knew he had to act, so as quickly as he could he reached for him, feeling himself stretch beyond the capabilities of his own body. White light engulfed the room then everything went dark.

"...Kid… Wake up!" Bobby's voice echoed in his head, making it hurt even more. Sam groaned as he slowly came to, feeling the hard floor underneath him. "What in tarnation happened right now?" Bobby yelled, clearly confused and pissed.

"Seems like the big guy over there had some powerful enemy. Big moose man like him couldn't hide for long." Crowley's voice filled the room.

"Shut up!" Bobby told him, then turned to Sam just when the hunter opened his eyes. "You alright, kid?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. What… Where…" Sam tried, unable to pull his thoughts together yet to form an actual sentence.

"Don't know what happened. One minute we were here, talkin' with fancy pants over there…"

"Oi!" Crowley protested, but was ignored.

"... And right after you pumped him with purified blood…"

"... Oh, thank you for that, by the way! Haven't felt like this in whole damnation!" Crowley interjected again, pissy and annoyed.

"... Then the whole room blew up in this bright light. What ever it was, it fried that poor bastard." Bobby said with a hint of sorrow, but Sam was confused. If Crowley was here, fine and snarky as ever, and Bobby seemed okay too, who did the light fry? The only other person there was…

"Sam!" Sam shouted out, quickly sitting up and trying to ignore the spinning room. There, just a few feet away from him was a body. A body wearing his clothes and his shoes and had his flannel shirt and… "What the hell…"

"Sorry, kid. The big guy didn't make it." Bobby said and Sam looked at him, baffled and shocked.

"But no. That can't… I can't be…" Sam tried, and Bobby patted his shoulder to try and comfort him. Sam hissed, the motion sending sharp pain through his system, one he was already familiar with. He glanced down at himself, seeing he was now wearing young Sam's clothes, but when he pulled his shirt out of the way, he saw the same damn bullet wound. "I'm… I'm not dead." He said, then looked up at Bobby. "I'm still here."

Then he puked his guts out and passed out again.

The second time he woke up, he was on Bobby's couch. One glance around told him that Crowley was still trapped in place and that Bobby was fussing around, but keeping an eye on him. His older body was gone. Sam slowly sat up, his hand going for his throbbing head before he noticed how young it looked and huffed an ironic laugh. He had no idea how it happened, but he was pretty sure he knew what happened.

"Was that some weird sort of disbelief that you survived, or did you mean somethin' else when you said you weren't dead?" Bobby asked as he shifted some of his focus back on Sam.

"I don't know how, but we merged." Sam replied and could hear Bobby's heavy sigh.

"So what's all that tar you puked out?" Bobby's voice wavered as he kept talking.

"Probably demon blood my younger version still had in his system. I rejected it." Sam replied and Bobby's brows shot up for only a moment.

"So, Sam… My Sam… He's gone?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff and Sam's eyes snapped up at his, just to see them shine a bit, undead tears forming in the corner of those wrinkled eyes.

"No. No, Bobby, he's… I'm not gone. I'm still here. It's… It's still me. Just… With more memories. But it's still me. I swear." He said, sounding too young and vulnerable to himself. Bobby took a deep breath and nodded, turning to glance at Crowley. It was clear the moment was gone, but Sam got up and walked towards the old coot, bringing him into a tight hug. He could feel some of Bobby's tension seeping away with every next heavy breath, and he patted his back, adding to the comfort.

"What… What about yer brother?" He asked as he pulled away.

"Plan's still the same. Crowley takes me down to hell, and I give him his next dose, along with the recipe."

"I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you know how to cure demons." Bobby huffed.

"Oh, believe me, we can do so much more."

A/N: This chapter was supposed to contain Sam's trip down to Hell too, but I don't have time to write more right now, so I thought I'd go ahead and post this shorter chapter. Sam has taken over his younger body, but still had all his knowledge and some of that God power. Now he just has to sneak a soul out of Hell. Easy peasy.