A/N: SO! For those of you who do not know, the CW network has signed our show for another season. REJOICE FANS REJOICE! I'm happy if you can't tell.

Okay, let's make a deal. If I get fifteen reviews, I will write like crazy and post before next Thursday… maybe even this weekend. Sound fair? I think so.

Disclaimer: See first chapter and the song is by The Fray.

Warnings: Hmm… a little blood.

Chapter Eight: Heaven Forbid

Twenty years, it's breaking you down

Now that you understand there's no one around

Take a breath, just take a seat

You're falling apart and tearing at the seems

Heaven forbid you end up alone

You don't know why

Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow

You'll be alright

Dean woke with a start.

Very familiar surroundings, he realized instantly.

Sammy's nursery… exactly as it had been twenty two years ago. If Dean hadn't known better, he would have thought he was dreaming. But that pain in his head was very real. As was that voice.

"She was my daughter, you know." Someone whispered. Dean searched the dark room, finding no owner to the voice. "And he shot her, without a thought."

And suddenly Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"It wasn't like you thought twice before you put my mother on the ceiling…" A sharp pain exploded across his chest, he sucked in air through his teeth and stopped talking.

"Believe me, the pain of losing a child is nothing compared to the pain of losing a parent or a lover. No one expects to outlive their child. It's a fate no parents wants." Dean was genuinely surprised the bastard even had feelings. "She was my baby…"

"Yeah, and the body she was possessed was someone else's baby… but that didn't stop you, did it?"

"You're bitter, I understand."

"Bitter? You killed my mother … damn right I'm bitter." He fought against the ties that bound him.

"Well relax, you won't be for much longer. I'll end your pathetic excuse for a life. But don't you worry, your death will be anything but pathetic. I'm thinking implosion would be nice."

"Bite me." And he had a sickening flashback to the Benders that made his stomach lurch.

"Ooh, that was a naughty family, wasn't it?"

"Stay the hell out of my head."

"Why? When it's so fun to relive your hell-ish soap opera of a life." The demon tsk-ed disapprovingly. "Does Sammy all those bad things you did during those four years… all the people you killed?"

"The y were dangerous."

"You killed them all the same."

"To save others."

"A killer is a killer Dean, no matter what the reason. You killed, you're a monster. Just like me."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Oh really?" He sighed. "Sure, you didn't put him on the ceiling, but you killed Missy's family. You killed your best friend, you stole a man's life so you could live for a few more measly months. And if Sam hadn't been there to stop you, you would have killed an innocent Reverend… not to mention Max."

"You messed with that kid's head, didn't you?"

"Tragic. Max wasn't strong enough. He had to be exterminated. His father and uncle were supposed to do it for us, but their wills were too strong. My sons couldn't force them to kill their own flesh and blood, we had to settle with senseless beating. If we couldn't kill him physically, we settled for mentally."

"I can't wait until Sam kills you." Another flash of pain, but instead of crying out, Dean laughed.

"Hysterical so soon?" And the demon sounded truly disappointed.

"You're scared." Dean realized. "Because he has the power to beat you."

Phantom hands tore the flesh on his chest and Dean grunted in pain, looking down as blood began to flow from the cuts. The claws halted at the bottom of his ribcage and paused for a moment before turning directions and cutting upwards. Each pass brought them closer to his ribs, closer to his lungs, closer to his heart.

Dean let his head fall back and he bit down on a scream.

The hands stilled and he waited, panting, for them to continue.

But for the second time in so long, mercy found him and the hands stayed away.

"Only if he has the strength to beat you too." And the demon's presence was gone. Dean allowed himself a silence victory for pushing the right buttons.

But just as the time he'd beaten the ghosts at the Montreal Mansion, victory wasn't as sweet as he'd suspected.

It left a copper taste in his mouth.

- - -

"John, you have to go!"

"It will mess everything up!"

"Your son is going to die!"

"Better one than both!" And he hated himself for saying that.

"You're disgusting, I will go save him if I have to."

"You, a pregnant little girl." John scoffed. She turned to him, her eyes full of tears. She pounded on his chest with her small fists.

"How can you let him die? How? You're his father! You're supposed to protect him! He's your child!"

"I know he is!" John yelled, grabbing her wrists. "This kills me. But I have to think of others. So many more will die if Dean lives."

"He's your son…"

"So is Sam."

"So you're choosing?" She asked, in shock.

"The choice is being made for me." He mourned.

John Winchester was not a stranger to mourning.

Mourning greeted him with a dark wave each morning. He mourned his wife, the baby boys he never was able to have. The children who were men too fast.

He mourned a broken life no amount of repairs could ever fix.

- - -

Lawrence, Kansas.

As familiar as always.

Even though he'd only been six or seven when they left for good, Dean knew the place like the back of his hand.

Sam really wished Dean was with him right now.

The door opened before he knocked.

"Sam Winchester, well what took you so damn long?" Missouri asked, ushering him inside. "I've been inspecting you for three days now."

"Sorry, Missouri." Sam stuttered lamely. "Dean left… and Dad showed up."

"Now, don't you worry about either of those fools. They're safe." She grabbed his shoulder. "Dean's strong, Sam."

"I know he is." Sam sighed. "Would you mind if I just went up and took a nap?"

"Of course not, child. I'll call you down when dinner is ready."

He smiled sincerely and nodded, heading up the stairs.

Missouri froze in the kitchen, bent at the waist and clutched her chest. She exhaled deeply. "Oh, Dean…" She whispered, and let a single tear roll down her cheek before she wiped it away. "Be strong, child."

- - -

He'd known instantly that she was lying. Missouri couldn't lie well, you'd never imagine it, but she was a terrible actress.

Dean was in trouble.

And this latest dream confirmed it.

The demon was with him, taunting him, torturing him. He'd seen flashes, the outside surroundings… he knew where Dean was.

And it was oh so fitting.

He just hoped Jenny and her kids had gotten out okay.

"Sam, there is something on your bed, I think you should read it." Missouri yelled from downstairs.

Sam turned and looked at the note on his pillow, it reminded him of Dean's note and he absently touched his back pocket where the paper still rested.

He sat down and took the paper slowly and began to read.

- - -

A relationship born of fire shall produce a love stronger than any before it. These star-crossed flames shall dawn two heirs. Six years and six months into the union, the League shall come forth to take what is rightfully theirs, the child with a gift more powerful than anything before, the child never meant to see the world. Though the bond of siblinghood is stronger than the bond between anything else, the League will deviate from normality and dare to sever the bond.

The blood of the mother shall baptize their king. She shall be cleansed in the flames that gave her life, love and her powerful sons. The king shall belong to the League and no one else. Any obstacle shall be consumed in the flames of their rule.

On the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year, the ending shall come. The League will come for their young king and if his ties of family are severed, he shall come down without a fight. But if he holds on, a fight between hell and humanity shall spring forth from the ashes of all that have fallen.

The eldest, the brother, shall fall. Only the king will know how to lift him up again. The fate of the father will rest upon the fate of his sons.

The children of the League will come forth, fighting for their promised. HE shall arise as never before and fight for which he fought to create.

And if the king is able to resist, the light shall break through the darkness and the storm shall pass.

- - -

Dean remembered.

He remembered his house, every detail. So right now, he could tell this room was just recreated. It wasn't the same.

Sam's crib wasn't against the wall. He had stars in the mobile, not clouds and birds. Flipping stars and moons, you dumb demon.

And the ceiling was different, no doubt a result from the reconstruction. What? You thought a mother of two could burn to death up there and leave no char marks?

Dean remembered his mother. He remembered her face, her deep blue eyes that made him feel safe.

Safe in a way he'd never feel again.

He remembered her long blonde hair. He could remember touching it as a child, "pwetty" hair. It was soft and he could remember pressing his face into it when he cried.

He remembered her voice. "I love you." And he'd never met anyone else who could say those words with enough heart to make his heart swell. He remembered her laugh, a light sound that made him laugh as well.

He remembered her screaming that night. He remembered waking to her scream, scared and confused. He ran down the hall, straight to Sammy's room. He just knew instantly that little Sammy needed to be protected.

"You're Sammy's big brother, Dean. You'll have to protect him, show him the ropes."

And that's what he remembering wanting to do that night.

Dean remembered his mother's touch, the way she'd kiss him goodnight, hug him each morning. No one could hug or kiss him the way his mother could. She could kiss him and make all the pain go away.

Magic in the purest form.

He remembered her smell. Like gardenias.

Dean inhaled through his nose, that's what he smelled now. "You're a sick son of a bitch." Dean groaned, coughing.

"I could say the same about you… but I liked your mother. Shame I had to slice her open and burn her."

Dean forced his eyes open and stared into the yellow eyes he directed every ounce of malice in his soul toward.

"I can feel it, your hate."

"Good."

"It feels heavenly."

"I can't wait until my brother sends you back to hell, permanently."

"Like he's going to let you die."

"He'll do what's right."

"You overestimate them. Your brother and your father. They're really not as strong as you seem to think." The demon whispered, sitting down cross-legged, just to the left of Dean, who had now realized that he'd fallen to the side, too weak from bloodless to stay vertical. "Sam will fall because he won't be able to give you up."

"He's walked away before, he'll be able to do it again."

"Don't be so sure, kiddo." He touched Dean's face gently with a soft, warm hand. Dean struggled to move away from the touch, but there was no where to go.

"It's called personal space."

"You know… all the other children we've taken, they were only children. The bond between siblings is something we don't normally mess with. It's too strong."

Dean's face twitched with anger.

"It's the thing that will destroy us, or destroy the both of you." He sighed, almost regretfully. "We're both playing with fire here, Dean. It could go either way. Exciting, isn't it?"

"You're sick."

"Hunting is a sport, Dean. We're sportsmen, into the uncertainty of it all. Don't tell me that rushing into a dangerous situation doesn't get your heart pounding, your adrenaline flowing. You love it. You live for it."

There was silence.

"You can ask."

"What are you talking about?" Dean snapped, groaning as the movement of muscles in his chest rippled and caused pain to flare up once again.

"You wonder why, ask me."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"You must ask."

"Why? Why Sam? Why our family?"

"Well." The demon's tone was one of pure delight. "It's not one thing that led us to choosing your family. There was a pattern, you see." He paused. "John never mentioned how he met your mother, did he?" Dean's silence was enough of an answer. "At a bon fire at a high school pep-rally."

"A relationship born of fire…" Dean groaned, pressing his forehead against the ground.

"You know, your mother had two failed pregnancies before you were born." The demon whispered. "You were her little miracle."

Dean lifted his head.

"Poor woman was so delusional."

He let his head fall back down.

"You were never supposed to be born, Dean. You and Samuel were flukes."

"Flukes that are going to kill you and your kind."

The invisible claws attacked him again.

This time he didn't stay conscious.

- - -

The prophecy.

The damned prophecy.

"Boy, I can feel your distress from down here, what's…" Missouri paused when she saw him sitting on the bed, the paper shaking in his unsteady hands. Sam looked up at her slowly, his eyes red rimmed and overflowing with pained tears. "Oh… you read it."

That's all you can say? You give me this, shatter my world and that's all you can freaking say?

"Don't think I don't hear what you don't say, Samuel."

"You know where he is." Sam whispered, staring her down, willing her to just try—just freaking try—to lie to him.

"Sam…" She whispered, a hand reaching out to comfort. He reeled away from her, jumping to his feet, backing up.

God, he was like a frightened animal. Look at your baby boy now, John Winchester. You proud of what you've done? Look how the mighty have fallen. Missouri pushed her spiteful thoughts to the back of her head.

"He's at the house. I'm going." Sam started to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

"Sam Winchester you will do no such thing!" She yelled.

He turned to her, desperation all over his face. "He's going to die, Missouri. All alone in that freaking house. I won't let him die like that."

"You have to, Sam. You have to let him die." And he could tell—feel—how badly it hurt her to speak those words.

"Not like that, please, not like that." Sam begged. "If he has to die," yes, desperation gets to the best of us, "I want him to die somewhere he won't be so goddamn scared. That house scares the hell out him, Missouri..."

"I know it does child, but it's too dangerous to get to him. Believe me, if there was anyway, I'd be there saving him."

"I'll find a way."

"I'm gunna die," his face was way too pale, the dark around his eyes standing out like a death sentence. This couldn't be Dean. It couldn't… "and you can't stop it."

A dare?

Was that a dare?

Dean always knew Sam could never a refuse a dare. Maybe he'd baited him consciously, or maybe it was actually his ass-ish way of comfort.

Either way, it got Sam—hook line and sinker.

"Watch me."

"You'll die."

"Then so be it, Dean is my brother. I won't let it end like this."

"Then you're going to need some help."

And for the second time in two days, John Winchester had shown up right on cue. Sam turned to him, and tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them away bitterly.

"Dad?" Sam whispered. "But I thought…"

"Damn it Sammy, we're a family. I hopped in the car and sped here twenty minutes after you left." He shrugged. "We can take an ancient league of demons, right?" He asked, laughing with tears in his eyes.

(Gees, do these macho men take estrogen?)

"Definitely." Sam agreed.

"You know where he is?" He asked, though Sam had a hunch John knew very well. He just wanted to know if Sam knew so he could break the news gently.

"The bastard recreated every room to look exactly like it did the last day Mom was alive…"

"How do you know that?"

"I dreamed it."

"Well, a dream is just a dream, Sam."

"Not mine Dad, they come true…"

John let this information register. There were so many questions, so many… but now was not the time. They needed to get to the house and save Dean.

Save their family.

- - -

Dean awoke to the sounds of laughter.

Sammy…

No. This was not joyous laughter. Or, haha, I just shaved off an eyebrow laughter. Which he knew all too well.

This was the laughter of revenge.

"They're coming." A whisper. "The fools are coming for you."

"No." Dean rasped, forcing himself on to one elbow. "They're coming for you."

- - -

Now, let's get some reviews.