This is my first Supernatural fic, so I hope you guys enjoy. This takes place from 5x21 and forward, if the Winchester's had a little sister.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL, THE PLOT, OR THE CHARACTERS (except for Chelsea)

CONTINUE


It wasn't easy, being the youngest of four siblings, not to mention being the only girl. Being on the road all the time, sleeping in sleezy motels, dragged around the country by the only father figures she'd ever known; her two oldest brothers.

Yep, Sam and Dean Winchester. Her brothers.

And they were not easy people to get along with. Between Dean's overbearing, overprotective need to make sure that she was safe at all times, and Sam's totally opposite approach; talking, trusting her, giving her the freedom she wanted and ultimately allowing her to make decisions that, more often than not, ended up with one, if not all of them, in deep shit.

She was almost surprised they hadn't dumped her with Bobby to do their own thing, because she was sure having her around didn't make things any easier for them.

That point was proven, when 17 year old Chelsea Winchester woke up abruptly to yelling.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean shouted at Sam.

"Dean-" Sam started.

"No, don't 'Dean' me!" He yelled over top of Sam.

Chelsea met Bobby's eyes from the couch in his office, where she had slept last night. He was seated in his wheelchair at the desk, and turned around to see what all the yelling was about.

"I mean, you have had some stupid ideas in the past, but this?" He turned to Bobby, taking a few steps into the office. "Did you know about this?"

"What?" Bobby asked, and Chelsea stood up, getting the feeling she might have to step in between her brothers here in a second.

"About Sam's genius plan to say yes to the Devil?"

Chelsea froze at that, meeting Sam's eyes across the kitchen floor.

Bobby sighed, and then nodded.

Dean's face turned into one of pure shock, and he looked back and forth between Sam and Bobby.

Sam met Chelsea's eyes, a look of shame growing on his face.

"Well thanks for the heads up!" Dean shouted at Bobby.

"Hey, this ain't about me."

"You can't do this." Chelsea said, and all eyes turned to her.

Apparently Dean had just then realized she was awake, because a look of guilt was growing on his face too.

Then he turned to Sam.

"She's right, you can't do this."

"That's the consensus." Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright awesome. Then, end of discussion." Dean said, waving his arm out in front of him.

Dean's cellphone rang in his pocket.

He pointed at Sam.

"This isn't over."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, shrugging, and Sam copied the action, sending an apologetic look in Chelsea's direction.

"Hello?" Dean asked, answering the phone.

A second went by before Dean said anything else.

"Cas?" He asked.

Sam and Chelsea's eyebrows shot up.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

Dean held a hand up.

"We all thought you were dead, where the hell are you man?"

"A hospital." Cas said.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"No."

Another second went by before Dean said anything, though he looked rather exasperated.

"You want to elaborate?"

"I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised, they thought I was brain dead."

"So, a hospital?" Dean asked, and Chelsea inched closer to hear more of the conversation.

"Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors."

"Uh, well, I got to tell you man, you're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box."

"How?"

"It's a long story, but look, we're going after Pestilence now. So, if you want to zap over here."

"I can't zap anywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"You could say my batteries are...drained."

"What do you mean? You're out of angel mojo?" Chelsea and Sam met eyes again. This wasn't the best way to start out ending the apocalypse.

"I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it. And I'm saying that I'm just incredibly..."

"Human." Dean said. "Wow. Sorry."

"Well, my point is, I can't go anywhere without money for...an airplane ride. And food. And more pain medication, ideally."

"Alright, well, look, no worries. Uh, Bobby's here. He'll wire you the cash-"

"I will?" Bobby asked.

"Or we'll have Chelsea come get you-"

"We will?" She asked.

"Dean, wait. You said no to Michael. I owe you an apology."

"Cas." Dean said. "It's okay."

"You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Dean said, looking a little uncomfortable.

"You're welcome." Cas said, and then the call ended. Dean raised an eyebrow.

He looked between Chelsea and Bobby.

Bobby turned to Chelsea.

She looked at them indignantly.

"Fine. You're paying gas money though." She pointed at Dean, and started gathering her stuff.

Less than 20 minutes later, Chelsea was headed out of Bobby's yard in a '67 Mustang Coupe.

Dean and Sam shared a look as she pulled away.

"Are we doing the right thing, sending her off?" Sam asked.

"The farther away from this she is, the safer she is." Dean said.

"Be careful." Bobby said as Dean started his car.

The two nodded.

"Call me when they get back." Dean said to Bobby, and then they pulled away too.


Dean and Sam sat in the Impala in the parking lot of Serenity Valley Convalescent Home.

"So this is Dr. Evil's lair, huh?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed, both of them lowering their binoculars.

"It's almost more depressing than evil."

"It's like a four-color brochure for dying young. Of course, to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there."

Sam scoffed.

"Great. A whole building full of people and we don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's Pestilence. So, what do we do?"

"Hang on." Dean said, lifting his binos to locate a camera overlooking the main entrance.

The two of them seated themselves in the camera surveillance room, watching each of the nine screens.

"How do you think Chelsea and Cas are?" Sam asked.

"I think Cas has got a thing for her, so they'll be okay."

Sam laughed lightly.

"He's an angel. That doesn't make you the slightest bit uncomfortable?"

"It makes me extremely uncomfortable thinking about anybody liking her." Dean admitted. "But if it means he will protect her, I can manage."


Chelsea led Cas back toward the car in the parking lot of the airport.

"Where are we going?" Cas asked her from the passenger seat as she started up the car.

"Serenity Valley." Chelsea answered him. "Sort of like a hospice. That's where Sam and Dean are."

"Does Dean know that we are going there?"

Chelsea sent him a side glance as she pulled back onto the main road.

"No."

He was quiet for a second.

"Where are we supposed to be going?"

"Back to Bobby's."

Cas sighed.

"Chel-"

"Don't, Cas, I know, okay? Everybody wants to keep 'little Winchester' out of the fight, but nobody ever asks what I want to do. I'm not going back to Bobby's, I'm going to help Dean and Sam, and if you try to stop me-"

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to." Cas said. "And, for the record, I wasn't going to try and stop you." Cas said.

Chelsea sent him another side glance, though he was looking right at her.

"Well, thank you." She said.

"Of course." Cas said.

The rest of their ride was silent.


Cas and Chelsea approached the door that Dean and Sam went through.

"His sickness is going to affect you the minute you walk in the door. It'll get me too, but if you get the chance, grab the knife, give it to me."

"Cas." Chelsea stopped him. "Thank you, for letting me help."

He smiled.

"I respect your loyalty, Chelsea. It would be strange to see you without it."

Cas kicked open the door.

Dean looked back at them from where he was curled up on the floor.

"Cas." Dean said, and Chelsea walked in behind him.

Chelsea watched the concern set in Dean's eyes before turning to Sam, who looked equally concerned that she was here.

Cas took two steps into the room.

"How did you get here?" Pestilence asked.

"We drove." He said, and then coughed, collapsing next to Sam.

Chelsea dove for the knife, between Sam and Cas, gripping it in one hand in time for it to feel like her rib cage was shrinking.

She dropped to all fours, coughing up blood.

"Well, look at that." Pestilence said, leaning down in front of them. "An occupied vessel, but powerless. That's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Cas glanced at Chelsea as she stretched out her hand with the knife in it toward Cas.

Pestilence turned to Chelsea.

"And you, the young Winchester. Always trying to outdo your brothers. Crawl out from underneath of their suffocating reputations. Dean was mommy's favorite, Sam was daddy's favorite, Adam was the gifted son. He got the best sides of John, and you? What did you get? A dead mommy, a dead daddy, one dead and one deadbeat older brother. A backseat ride to everyone else's dirty work. You were pushed aside."

"Shut up." Dean growled at Pestilence.

"And yet, here you are, trying to save their sorry asses again. And what's it going to get you?"

Chelsea met his eyes.

"Ebola? The bubonic plague? Spanish influenza? Bronchitis?"

All of a sudden, she curled up, dropping to her side on the floor as blood poured from her mouth, coming up as she tried to cough to clear it from her throat.

Her hand gripped her chest, her heart, as though it was seizing.

"Chelsea." Dean tried to shout, though it came out more like an angry grunt.

Cas grabbed the knife from Chelsea's hand, launching himself at the horseman, grabbing his wrist and taking off his fingers in one clean slice.

"Maybe just a speck." Cas said.

The demon at the door launched herself at Cas, who shoved the knife up through her abdomen and twisted, killing her.

The sickness let up instantly, and Dean was on his feet, pulling Chelsea's upper half into his arms.

She continued to cough for a minute, spluttering out the remaining blood stuck in her throat and mouth.

"It's okay, I've gotcha." Dean whispered, pushing her loose dirty blonde hairs out of her face.

Sam picked up the finger and ring.

"It doesn't matter." Pestilence said. "It's too late."

And then he was gone.

Cas was also already to his feet, watching over Dean and Chelsea.

Chelsea pushed away from Dean, wiping her mouth, and Dean seemed caught off-guard for a minute.

"I'm fine."

The four of them looked at each other, and sighed.


Chelsea stood in Bobby's kitchen, drinking a bottle of water later that day.

Dean and Sam sat near Bobby, and Cas by the side wall, but she wasn't even listening to their conversation.

All she could think about was what Pestilence had said, and how unfortunately right he was.

Mary had died during childbirth of her, John had died 3 years ago, when Chelsea was only 14, but he'd been gone for almost a year before then. Dean and Sam had practically raised her while John was on hunting trips, but when Dean died, Sam had gone completely silent. Didn't answer his phone, and Chelsea couldn't find him for the life of her.

She'd been with Bobby during the four months that her older brother was dead, and it was the worst four months of her completely abnormal life. Come to find out, half those times that John was out on "hunting trips", he was spending time with another son that he'd had outside of his marriage, and ignoring the three kids he had at home, which was basically a crappy motel in whatever town he needed to be in for his hunt.

Chelsea found herself almost hating her father for that some days.

She grabbed a beer out of Bobby's fridge and headed outside, feeling the sudden urge to need to breathe.

She leaned on the hood of one of the cars in Bobby's front lawn.

Dean came out about halfway through her beer.

"Noticed you weren't in the kitchen anymore." He said. "And I'm pretty sure you're not of legal drinking age."

"Since when have you been worried about a little bit of beer, Dean?"

He leaned on the car, next to her, taking the bottle from her hands and drinking from it before putting it back in her hand.

"How are you doing?" He asked. "You scared me there, for a second, back with Pestilence."

"Meh. Don't worry about me, Dean."

"I am." He said. "Worried about you. What kind of brother would I be, to not be worried?"

"A normal one."

"Haven't you far from learned that we're not exactly the normal type?"

"Maybe that's the problem." Chelsea said, drinking from her bottle.

The two were quiet for a minute.

"The four months that you were dead." Chelsea said, this being the first time she'd talked about it since he had died. "Were the worst four months of my life. Sam...he was too crushed to have to deal with me, too. Dad's dead, mom's dead, I didn't know Adam or Cas yet. I've never felt more alone, Dean, then during those four months."

"I'm sorry, Chels."

"It's not your fault." She said. "Just, sometimes I still feel like I'm stuck there, alone."

"You're not alone, Chels. I'm right here."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him.

"I'm right here, babygirl."


While Chelsea was asleep early the next morning, Dean started to pack up the car for their trip to Chicago.

Sam sauntered out at some point and sighed as he leaned against the side of Dean's car.

"Let me guess. We're about to have a talk." Dean said.

Sam met his eyes.

"Me first." Dean said, holding up a finger.

"Okay." Sam said.

"Something's up with Chels." Dean said. "What Pestilence said yesterday, it really got to her. And, I haven't been paying enough attention to notice that she was struggling until yesterday, so Sam, we've got to do better. She deserves better."

Sam smiled sadly.

"You have to do it, Dean."

He raised an eyebrow at Sam, who cleared his throat.

"Look, Dean. For the record, I agree with you. About me. You think that I'm too weak to take on Lucifer. Well, so do I. Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. You, Bobby, Cas, Chelsea, I'm the least of any of you."

"Oh, Sam-"

"No, it's true. It is. But...I'm also all we've got. If there was another way...but I don't think there is. It's just me. So I don't know what else to to, except just try to do what's got to be done."

"And...scene." Crowley said from behind them. He came around the side of the car. "There's something you need to see." He handed Sam a newspaper and pointed to the column he meant.

"Niveus pharmaceuticals is rushing delivery of its new swine-flu vaccine to 'stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak'. Uh, shipments leave Wednesday."

Dean looked at Crowley, waiting for some kind of explanation.

"Niveus pharmaceuticals. Get it?"

The two boys looked at each other.

"Brady." Someone said from behind them, and the three boys turned to Chelsea walking out, looking exhausted. "Vice president of distribution, Niveus. Man, you guys are lucky you have your looks."

Crowley smiled at her.

"Ah, yes, that the sound of the abacus clacking? We all caught up?"

"So Pestilence was spreading swine flu." Sam said.

"Yeah, but not just for giggles." Dean said. "That was step one. Step two is the vaccine. And you think-"

"I know." Crowley said. "I would stake my reputation on it. That vaccine is full of grade-A, farm fresh Croatoan virus."

"Simultaneous, countrywide distribution." Sam nodded.

"Quite the plan." Chelsea said. "So, how do we stop it?"


Bobby and Cas stood outside the truck, loading it up for their trip to Chicago.

Cas sighed.

"What's your problem?" Bobby asked.

"This is what they mean by 'The 11th Hour', right?"

"Pretty much." Bobby agreed.

"Well, it's the 11th hour and I am useless." He held up his gun. "All I have is this. What am I even supposed to do with it?"

"Point it and shoot." Bobby said like that was the obvious answer.

"What I used to be-" Cas started, and Bobby stopped him right there.

"Are you really going to bitch - to me?"

Cas looked over at him sadly.

"I can't even provide any comfort." He said. "I don't have any to provide."

"You're talking about something else entirely." Bobby said. "Chelsea's lack of interest in comfort, Cas, comes from the fact that her father was never around. Her mother died. The closest thing she had to comfort was Dean, and then he died. And now, we've started the whole damn apocalypse. You think she's any more comforted now, knowing that we're all probably going to die? And who are you, to take interest in a human?"

"We do not choose who we find interest in. I am not even familiar in the feeling myself. Perhaps it is just curiosity that has me to interested in her."

"Don't tell her that." Bobby said. "Listen, just load the damn truck."


"Alright, well." Dean started. "Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse."

"Yeah." Sam said. "Good luck killing Death."

"Yeah." Dean said.

The group of them were silent for a moment.

"Remember when we used to just...hunt wendigos? How simple things were?"

Dean smiled.

"Not really."

Chelsea chuckled lightly.

"Well, um..." Sam pulled out the demon killing knife and handed it to Dean. "You might need this."

"Keep it." Crowley said. "Dean's covered." He handed him a scythe. "Death's own. Kills, golly, demons and angels and reapers, and rumor has it, the very thing itself.

"How did you get that?" Cas asked.

"Hello." Crowley said. "King of the crossroads. So, shall we? Bobby, you just gonna sit there?"

"No, I'm gonna river dance." Bobby said sarcastically, and Chelsea turned to Crowley, confused.

"I suppose if you wanna impress the ladies." Crowley said, meeting Chelsea's eyes. Crowley sighed.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact - you get more if you phrase is properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny tiny sub-a clause on your behalf. What can I say, I'm an altruist." He winked. "Just gonna sit there?"

The boys and Chelsea watched as Bobby looked down and tentatively moved his foot.

The four of them smiled, and Bobby stood from his wheelchair.

"Son of a bitch." He whispered.

"Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy." Crowley said, and Chelsea smiled at him.

"Thanks." Bobby said.

"This is getting maudlin. Can we go?" Crowley asked Dean.

"You're in the back." Chelsea said to Crowley, grabbing the handle of the passenger side door of Dean's Impala. She hardly ever got to sit shotgun, because it was typically Sam's seat.

Dean smiled and shook his head at the two of them.

"Are you really going to fight a demon over a seat, kid?" Crowley threatened her.

"If I have to." Chelsea shot back.

"Enough." Dean said. "Crowley, get in the back."

Sam rolled his eyes at the two of them.


"'Yes' to Lucifer. Then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan." Castiel said.

"That's a word for it." Bobby said.

"So? Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard." Sam said to Cas.

"Of course. I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear. But it's not what I think." Cas said, from the backseat of the truck.

"Really?" Sam asked.

"You and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations. He resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer but there are things that you would need to know."

"Like?"

"Michael has found another vessel."

"What?" Sam and Bobby asked.

"It's your brother Adam. You must have considered it."

"We were trying not to." Sam said.

"On that note, Sam. Chelsea is John and Mary's bloodline."

Sam turned around to face Cas.

"And?"

"She would make the ideal replacement for Dean...or you. More so than Adam."

"Are you telling me that both Lucifer and Michael could use her as a vessel?"

"Not at the same time, of course. But she is your very same bloodline. While you are Lucifer's true vessel, and Dean is Michael's, she could equally take either of your place and work just fine. Thus, she is the largest bargaining chip on either side."

The three of them were silent.

"Let's keep this from Dean, for now. Can you do that?" Sam asked Cas.

"Of course, but, Sam...if you say yes to Lucifer and then fail...this fight will happen. And the collateral...it'll be immense. There's also the demon blood."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"To take in Lucifer, it would be more than you've ever drunk."

"But...why?"

"It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding."

"But the guy he's in now-"

"He's drinking gallons." Castiel said, and Sam felt his stomach turn.

"And how is that not the worst plan you ever heard?" Bobby asked.


Bobby held up his binos, looking at what was going on over by the trucks.

"Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks. Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the c-4 every 25 feet, then we pull the fire alarm."

"That truck is leaving." Cas said, pointing at the truck pulling away from the warehouse.

"Balls! Okay, new plan." Bobby said, getting out of the truck.


"Hey, let's stop for pizza." Crowley said from behind Chelsea and Dean on their walk through Chicago.

"Are you kidding?" Dean said as Chelsea turned around to look at him like he was crazy.

"Just heard it was good. That's all. Up ahead. Big, ugly building. Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there."

"How do you know?" Chelsea asked, doubting him.

"Have you met me? 'Cause I know. Also, the block is squirming with reapers. I'll be right back." Crowley disappeared.

Dean and Chelsea shared a look.

Crowley reappeared a second later.

"Boy, is my face red. Death's not in there."

"You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell me where he is?" Dean asked, getting frustrated.

"Sorry. I don't know."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. You don't know?" Chelsea asked.

"Signs pointed. I'm just as shocked as you."

"Bobby sold his soul for this!" Dean shouted.

"Relax. All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city."

"Millions, Crowley. Millions of people are about to die any minute." Chelsea said, trying to emphasize the importance of this.

"True. So I strongly suggest we get out of here."

Dean and Chelsea shared another look.

Sitting back in the Impala, Dean, Chelsea, and Crowley contemplated what to do.

"So, what? Call in a bomb threat? 1,000 bomb threats? I mean, how the hell are we supposed to get three million people out of Chicago in the next 10 minutes?"

He looked at Chelsea, who turned to Crowley, who had disappeared once again.

"Come on!" Dean shouted. The two of them looked around for him.

"Hang on." Chelsea said, pointing to the pizzeria across the street. Crowley was standing next to it, trying to talk to them from the door.

"What? I can't hear you!" Dean said.

Crowley popped into the back of the Impala again.

"I said I found him. Death - he's in there."

Dean sighed, looking at the pizzeria.

"You coming or..."

Dean turned around to the backseat, where Crowley was gone, again. Chelsea really thought this was starting to get annoying.

"...Not." Dean said. "Alright, stay in the car."

"Are you kidding?" Chelsea asked him. "I didn't come all this way just to sit in the car while you do all the hard work."

"Chels-"

"No, Dean. I'm coming with you."

She got out of the car before he could say another word.


As Dean and Chelsea approached the table Death was sitting at, Chelsea noticed the scythe start to turn red in Dean's hand.

His hand shook, trying to hang onto it, but it was clear that it was burning him.

He dropped it, and it clattered to the floor, blowing their entire plan.

"Thanks for returning that. Join me, you two. The pizza's delicious. Sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you." The scythe appeared next to Death on the table, and Chelsea and Dean shared a look. They approached the table together, each of them taking a seat.

"I got to say - I have mixed feelings about that. S-so is this the part where...where you kill us?" Dean asked.

"You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well...Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you." He lifted a slice of pizza from a plate and put it down on a separate plate in front of Dean. "Eat."

Hesitantly, Dean cut himself a piece of the pizza and took a bite. He shared a look with Chelsea.

"Good, isn't it?" Death asked.

A moment of silence passed between the three of them.

"Well, I got to ask. How old are you?" Dean finally said.

"As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless, at the end, I'll reap him, too."

"God? You'll reap God?" Chelsea asked.

"Oh, yes. God will die, too, Chelsea."

"Well, this is way above our pay grade." Dean said.

"Just a bit." Death agreed.

"So, then why are we still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh...w-what do you want?"

"The leash around my neck - off. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

"And you think...we can unbind you?" Chelsea asked.

"There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this." Death twisted the ring off of his finger and held it up.

"Yeah." Dean agreed.

"I'm inclined to give it to you."

The two siblings froze.

"To give it to us?" Dean asked.

"That's what I said." Death said.

"But what about..." Chelsea asked, looking around.

"Chicago? I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza. There are conditions."

"Okay. Like?" She asked.

Death looked over at her, and then at Dean.

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell."

Dean and Chelsea shared another look.

"Of course." They said.

"Whatever it takes." Death emphasized.

"That's the plan." Dean said.

"No." Death said. "No plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

"What, you think-" Chelsea started, but Death cut her off.

"I know. So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Well, do I have your word?"

This time, Dean wouldn't look at her.

"Okay, yeah. Yes." Dean said.

"Dean-" Chelsea started.

"Yes." Dean said over her.

Death looked between the two of them again.

"That had better be 'yes,' Dean. You know you can't cheat death. Now, would you like the instruction manual?"

Chelsea sat there as Death explained to them how they were going to make this work, but she was barely listening. She was more concerned with the fact that her brother had just agreed to let their other brother jump into Hell...forever.


Back at Bobby's, Dean sat outside by a table, playing with the four rings.

"Well, how'd it go at the Rockettes audition?" Dean asked as Bobby approached him.

"Well, high kicks - fair. Boobs need work. I walked up and down stairs all night for no damn reason. I'm sore. Feels so good, I'm scared it's a dream. But then I remember that the world's dying bloody, so, drink?"

Bobby handed Dean a beer.

"Check it out." Dean pulled the rings apart, and then showed Bobby how they link back up.

"Hmm. Oh. So Death told you how to operate those? The whole deal?"

"Yeah. It's nuts. Of course, I got bigger problems now."

"Really? Like?"

"What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?"

"Nothing good."

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"What'd you say?" Bobby asked. He'd noticed Chelsea was in a bit of a mood, perhaps this was part of the reason.

"That I was cool with Sam driving the bus on the whole Lucifer plan."

"So Death thinks Sam ought to say yes, huh?" Bobby asked. This was definitely what had Chelsea upset, then.

"I don't know. Yeah."

"Hmm." Bobby mumbled.

"But, I mean, of course he'd say that. He works for Lucifer." Dean said, trying to convince himself that something wasn't right here.

"Against his will, I thought he said."

"Well, I'd say, take his sob story with a fat grain of salt. I mean, he is Death."

"Exactly. He's Death. Think of the kind of bird's-eye view."

"Seriously?" Dean asked.

"I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't. I mean, what happened to you being against this?"

"Look, I'm not saying Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects. But..."

"But what?"

"Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another. Must have saved 10 people. Never stopped. Never slowed down. We're hard on him, Dean. We've always been. But in the meantime... He's been running into burning buildings since he was, what, 12?"

"Pretty much." Dean agreed.

"Look, Sam's got a...darkness in him. I'm not saying he don't. But he's got a hell of a lot of good in him, too."

"I know." Dean said, running a hand over his face.

"Then you know Sam will beat the devil...Or die trying. That's the best we could ask for. So I got to ask, Dean. What exactly are you afraid of? Losing? Or losing your brother?"

Dean sighed.

"Both of them, Bobby. It's not just Sam. You should've seen the way Chelsea looked at me when I told Death I would let Sam do it. She's been slipping for a long time, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't think she wants me to. And Sam, she's barely spoken to Sam since...well, since I came back, now that I think about it."

"Hate to be that person, Dean, but I think we have bigger things at the moment."

Dean stared at Bobby for a minute, and then sighed.