AN: I am SO sorry for the delay in getting this out. I hope we can get back on track. If you're still out there, THANK YOU for your patience and for still being willing to see this through. If you're not, I don't blame you! I'm sorry for letting you down with the delay, thank you for sticking around as long as you did.

I'm furiously unhappy with this chapter, but I can't delete and re-write anymore, I'm just not able to fix it, so here it is. Hopefully we can get back to a more regular updating schedule once this is done.

Once again. I'm really really sorry for the delay.


-oOo-

Things started to make sense.

Sam really wished they hadn't.

Initially, not much of what Lilith had said to him in the dream had held much resonance, and to be honest, barely any of it had registered other than the fact she was real and that she had Kyle. Between that and getting Jess back, Sam hadn't had time to consider anything else in greater detail, let alone correlate it with all the information he'd recently extracted from Dean.

But as he sat on the bed next to a sleeping Jess, Deanna curled up in her arms, he couldn't stop the pieces from slotting together.

Lilith had confirmed that Stacey had been possessed, and the demon that had been wearing Stacey had coerced and manipulated Jess for well over a year (he wasn't going to think about Stacey's son being murdered, he couldn't). Lilith had also taken sadistic pleasure in informing him that Dean had done 'some exquisite work to create that one'. At the time, and even well after the fact, those ramblings had meant nothing to him. He hadn't even known how demons came into existence, but Castiel had filled in that blank when he'd informed him that demons were humans whose souls had been tortured and twisted in Hell.

With all that in mind and after Dean's revelations of his time in Hell, confessions about what he'd been forced to do there, admissions about the last man he'd tortured, more of what Lilith had said to Sam in that dream now started to make sense. If Lilith was to be believed, then the demon whose creation in Hell had been the first Seal and who had subsequently possessed Stacey, had been created by Dean. In hindsight, the way Stacey had reacted to Dean when they had gone to question her in the clinic, the sheer terror with which she had shrunk back from him, the fact that she had called him a monster, because she shared at least in part, some of the demon's memories, memories which had been forged by Dean in Hell, was a confirmation which made horrific sense to Sam now. Dean had inadvertently created the demon which had possessed Stacey, murdered her son, coerced Jess, kidnapped her and Kyle, and then delivered them to Lilith.

Again, Sam really wished it didn't make sense. But for all that, he wished, hoped, prayed even, that it hadn't made sense to Dean. Sam was never going to tell Dean what Lilith had told him about the demon, and hopefully they would be able to kill Lilith before she ever got the chance to repeat it.

But the horror of that knowledge, along with the anxiety that Dean might somehow find out, still gnawed at his insides. Because Sam knew it might break Dean. If Dean ever knew that he was, however indirectly, responsible for the murder of Stacey's child, and, however indirectly, responsible for Kyle and Jess' abduction, it would break Dean. Crowley's revelation of Dean having been fed the information regarding their father being in Hell had been bad enough on his brother. And Dean was so close to a tipping point, Sam really didn't know how much more he could take. Everything Dean had already taken was already leagues beyond anything any other human could ever bear. But Dean had gone through it, carried it, dealt with it and borne it all on his own because he'd had no other choice. Because Sam had left him with no other choice.

Because Sam had left him, period.

Beyond the crushing reoccurring guilt of that acknowledgement, it brought Sam round to the other item on his worry list. He wanted Dean to trust him, to know that he was there for him, but Sam wasn't confident within himself as to how much he could support Dean beyond extracting forced confessions and providing unwanted sympathy. Sam knew he'd been out from the hunting game, from the family business, for years now. While he'd initially maintained an almost military level of personal fitness (John's years of training regimes had proven difficult to abandon), he had to admit since the growth of his own family he'd become somewhat lax in his workout routines. Rigorous training agendas had slowly given way to occasional after school recitals and vet appointments, rigid and exacting exercise schedules had wavered in the face of dinners with friends and in-laws' visits. He still ran a decent number of miles every day, usually in the morning, sometimes in the evenings, and occasionally both. And his gym membership had always been more than adequately used. But gym sessions and aimless running was no substitute for the actual physicality of hunting. Leisurely running through picturesque trees whilst listening to engaging podcasts about the benefits of kale was not the same as running for your life through unfamiliar terrain with a monster nipping at your heels. Hunting trained, enhanced, and honed muscles which nothing else could. Hell, he was pretty sure hunting created both muscles and senses which no other type of physical activity came close to even developing. While he was more than confident of his ability to chase and catch up with a monster, he couldn't boast the same level of confidence when it came to fighting it. What he'd maintained in toned muscle mass, he was sure he'd lost in reflexive gut instinct. He wanted to believe it would come back to him, but in all honesty, he didn't feel confident about anything lately, given how many things had changed in the hunting world.

But it was more than his physical abilities that caused him concern. There was something about having a wife and children, something about having that type of family, that somehow paralysed him. He'd never been reckless whilst hunting with Dean and their father, but he'd also never been a coward. His entire family had been right there with him, had been by his side, had had his back, whenever they were in the thick of it, so there was no one left behind. But now, the thought of leaving Jess and the kids behind if he died, the knowledge that demons had their eyes on them, it froze his insides with terror. He felt immobile with the fear, in a way that his impending death at the hands of Leukaemia had never invoked. And while he was willing to do anything to save his family, was willing to sacrifice his life, a part of him was caught up on the fact that Jess and the kids were completely ill-prepared for the supernatural world out there. As much as he'd riled against John, John had been right; Sam and Dean could take care of themselves, had taken care of themselves, when he'd been absent, because John had equipped them to be able to. Sam couldn't say the same of his wife and children, because he'd been so focussed on shielding them. So focussed on rebelling against John's parenting style and lifestyle choices. Now that he was older, now that circumstances had forced him to become wiser, he could see the harm he'd inflicted. If Sam died, what would Jess and the kids do? How would they fight off a demon if one turned up at their door? How would they learn to live off-grid if they needed to? They weren't ready to protect themselves, and if Sam sacrificed himself, if that was what Lilith wanted in exchange for his son, there would be nobody left to take care of his family after he was gone.

Especially if Dean continued to be recklessly determined to end up dead too.

Not that it was Dean's job of course, to look after everyone. But Sam had always taken for granted that no matter what happened between them, Dean would always be there for him if it ever came down to it, that Dean would always be out there in the world somewhere, to take care of things. He'd relied on that when he thought he was going to die of cancer. And while that eventuality hadn't occurred, the sentiment had been there, all the same. But of course, that could only work if Dean wasn't dead.

Sam was aware that as much as Jess and the kids kept him grounded and considerate of his own well-being and self-preservation in general, that very same consideration was missing for Dean, at least as far as Dean's own thinking went. Sam wasn't naïve enough to believe that after Dean's confession, after his brother had finally opened up (albeit by coercion), that things were somehow miraculously fixed. He doubted Dean felt unburdened and relieved and his multitude of wounds could heal, and things could go back to how they had been when Sam had been five years old and a hug could fix everything that felt wrong between them and the world with his big brother in it seemed safe and awesome and endlessly amazing. Because that just wasn't how life went. If anything, Sam knew Dean was now on the defensive even more so than ever before. He knew his brother. He knew how Dean reacted to having his emotions laid bare. To having, what in Dean's mind he considered to be his weaknesses, uncovered and exposed. Sam was sure Dean would be looking for any and every opportunity to bolt. And if he couldn't leave the crowds and scrutiny of the Roadhouse, then at the very least, he was bound to retreat into himself and close up entirely.

Meaning he was going to be even more distant and even less reachable than before.

Meaning, more worryingly, he was going to veer towards acts of reckless desperation. If Dean thought he wasn't worth saving, if he thought he didn't have anyone to answer to, or anyone or thing to live for, it would make those types of reckless choices even easier for him. Like saying yes to Michael. Despite Sam not understanding what that meant entirely, he'd been digging into it, especially since he'd learnt the phrase 'Michael Sword', and one thing was for certain; it was bound to be dangerous. He'd found more than one reference to the last time a Michael Sword had been used, the only time as far as he could tell, and the literature and lore both proclaimed the same thing. When Lucifer had been defeated, the force of the blow had broken the sword to pieces, had shattered it beyond reprieve. It would have been impressive if Sam didn't know what he knew now; this time, Dean would be the sword. Meaning saying yes to Michael was a guaranteed death sentence. And Sam knew that Dean knew that, because the way Dean was now, if it was something sacrificial and terminal, Dean was ready to run towards it with open arms.

Whichever way Sam cut it, Dean was in trouble. And that meant they were all in trouble, because a world without Dean, it wasn't one Sam could come to terms with. It wasn't one he would ever feel settled or at ease or safe in. But it appeared to be one which Dean seemed, quite literally, hell-bent on creating.

Sam didn't feel capable of doing it alone. And he didn't just mean the current situation, he meant beyond that, the rest of it, the whatever would be left when the dust was all settled. Because he wasn't foolish enough to believe it would all be over, that once they got Kyle back, he and Jess and the kids could all go back to the life they'd once known. It never worked like that, not for anyone. And something like the Apocalypse, even if they averted it, even if they survived, there was bound to be fallout to deal with. There would certainly be demons out for revenge, and he wasn't naïve enough to think they would just forget about his family when it came to exacting it. In fact, the only thing Sam was certain of in this whole nightmare was that without Dean by his side, now and in the future, without Dean's help, they didn't stand a chance. He didn't stand a chance. But he was also beginning to realise that unless Dean trusted him, unless Dean could realise that Sam was there for him, in the fight physically and in the long haul emotionally, Sam had little hope of being able to save him at all. But that was easier thought than done, because Sam certainly hadn't been able to provide Dean with any emotional support. And when it came to hunting, if Sam wasn't confident in his own abilities to have his brothers back in a fight, what good was he really in Dean's life anymore anyway? What did he have to offer in Dean's world?

"What are you thinking about?"

Although Jess only murmured her question in sleepy tones, it still made Sam start a little to hear her voice. She had been recovering well. Incredibly well. The initial horrific shock of this newly revealed reality had subsided over the past few days, and she had been fighting to acclimate and accept it all. She was stronger than he thought he could have been in her shoes, and part of that came from her strength as a mother, from sheer force of will, to get better and stronger for them. He rolled his head towards her, ran his fingers through her hair gently, bit down the upsurge of emotions at seeing her there beside him again after so many nights bearing her absence, and swallowed down those emotions again before trusting himself to speak.

"Nothing honey. Go back to sleep."

But in all their years of marriage, that line had never worked on Jess. Her eyes were fully open now, and while she didn't straighten to sit, she stared up at him from the pillow, eyes bright and sharp, even as they held her weariness. For a moment, if he tried, Sam could pretend that everything was normal. That he was just sat up late in bed worrying about a case, and she was just curious of his concerns even though she'd spent hours already listening to him drone on about them. He could pretend all that, if it weren't for Kyle being missing and the Enochian on the walls and that look of shattered innocence which Lilith had instilled in his wife's eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" she repeated, and Sam gave in with a smile, then shook his head, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I..." But he didn't even know where, how, to begin. Foremost on his mind of course was Kyle. But getting him back and getting them all safe was so intertwined with Dean, and with his own abilities to support Dean, that he couldn't think of one without being consumed by worry at the other.

In the end all he managed was to shake his head and sigh, but Jess somehow understood, at least in part, that he was thinking of Kyle.

"We'll get him back," she reassured, with more certainty than Sam would have expected. "You'll get him back."

"I know," he confirmed, hoping his voice had matched Jess' conviction even though in his heart right then, Sam felt nothing but fear and dread. Jess must have heard something in it though, because she scrutinised him silently for a moment.

"You don't sound as sure of that as I'd want you to," she said at last. She had never been one to act coy about the things that mattered.

"I'm gonna do everything I can Jess, you know that." He stopped himself from saying anything more, because he didn't want to hear his voice say whatever may have come next. Voicing the fear that perhaps he couldn't save their son.

"But you don't think you can?" Jess supplied hesitantly, guessing his concerns and some of the light in her eyes dying with it.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he repeated, more assuredly, and she stared at him a long time, till he felt himself wavering under the gaze. "And I've got Dean and Cas with me. And the others. We're all gonna do whatever it takes to get Kyle back Jess. I swear to you, we'll get him back."

"Cas," she said, eyes growing wide. "Christ Sam! An angel?! An actual angel?!" she stared up at him. "Did you always know about angels?"

He shook his head. "No. I thought they were pure fiction. It's still blowing my mind a little too."

They shared a moment, but it was only a moment, one that passed quickly and when it did her eyes became slightly hard again.

"What about demons?" and she managed to say the word without shuddering and Sam loved her strength for that. "Had you always known about them?"

And though he knew she'd tried to keep the accusation from her voice, a cold hard sliver of it had still crept through and he felt shame and betrayal and a hundred other things besides, and he knew he deserved each and every one of them because any anger she had towards him would be justified given everything she'd been through, everything that had been forced upon her. Everything he'd kept from her.

So all he could do was nod. She deserved better but he had nothing to offer right then, other than his guilt.

"Are they all like her? Like Lilith?" And this time she did stall, her voice hitching a little over the name and Sam's fingers on her head flexed in response.

"No. Lilith is more powerful, more dangerous, than any demon I've ever heard of. She's their queen, I suppose."

"She acted that way," Jess confirmed, not hiding any of the vitriol she felt. "And she has our son… But… she's afraid of your brother," she added after a while. "Or wary of him at least. He must be something pretty terrifying for her to be scared of him."

"Dean's not a monster," Sam countered, not wanting his brother to be misunderstood, but Jess shook her head.

"I know he's not," she clarified. "He's… I don't know what he is. But I know you love him. He practically raised you, didn't he? You told me that once."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, surprised. "Did I?"

"I got you very drunk before you started talking."

"No wonder I don't remember," Sam smiled, then saddened a little. "Yeah, he pretty much did."

"I've always thought he did a fairly decent job."

Sam huffed a laugh, then acknowledged her opinion with a nod. "He did. He sacrificed his whole life for me, one way or another."

"I know… though, I'm guessing I don't really know, given, well everything I'm learning about now. But I'm also guessing the parts you told me about your life, those were true?"

"They were."

"Well, then I remember you telling me how he taught you to drive, and about that time he put on a fireworks display just for the two of you, and how he used to read comics to you at night."

"And he'd take me to the library even though he hated going," Sam smiled at the memory. "And he'd sign-up to it too, just so I could have twice the book allowance, and then he'd carry them for me coz I'd get more books than I could carry."

"I think I'd trade my brothers for Dean any day."

"Well… your brothers are kind of jerks though Jess, let's be honest."

"I recall you saying the same thing about Dean," she countered. "I supposed brothers are supposed to be jerks… Which means you must be one too." There was a time when the playful mischief in her eyes would have lingered, but now it died far too quickly, leaving Sam clinging only to the hollow ache its absence caused. "I know you adored him," she carried on. "I know you probably still do. Or has something changed?"

"No." Sam responded, looking away for a moment to hide his embarrassment, or perhaps his sadness and worry. "No, Dean is… He's still... He's the best big brother I could ever ask for. Better than I deserve. He's a far better brother to me than I've ever been to him."

Jess let the last comments slide and Sam was grateful for it, not having the emotional strength to open up that cavity right then.

"Besides," Jess said instead. "Deanna adores him too. Every other sentence from her has been Uncle Dean this and Uncle Dean that. It's the best endorsement I could ever ask for. So I know he's not a monster." She continued to scrutinise him however, before narrowing her eyes. "But there's something wrong, isn't there? Not just Kyle, something else. You look... concerned."

"I'm... I'm just worried about him, that's all."

"About Dean? Why?"

"Because…" Sam released a weary sigh, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Because... Because I think he needs help," he said at last. "I think he's in trouble and he needs help. But he won't let me help him. I don't even know if I can help him."

"What does he need your help with?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know Jess… I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm not making sense."

They remained silent for a moment before Jess spoke again.

"This is probably nothing like when you're working on a case," Jess offered eventually.

"No," Sam agreed, work suddenly seeming foreign and distant and completely insignificant in the face of everything that had happened in the past few weeks. He'd completely forgotten about that old life, which now seemed utterly alien to him.

"But if it were," Jess continued. "You always figure out a way to help your client."

"This isn't the same. I wish I could just find a legal loophole and fix it all."

"True," she agreed. "But that's not the only way in which you help people, is it?"

Sam cocked his head to the side, meeting her gaze expectantly.

"You're there for them. When there's no one else left, you're on their side, no matter what. Isn't that what you do?"

"This isn't the same," he repeated dejectedly but Jess ignored him.

"Isn't it?" she persisted. "You have clients who've lost hope and are in trouble, and you don't know if you can help them. But I've heard you say more than once that saving them isn't about winning or losing, that it isn't about the verdict. It's about getting them to not give up. And as long as you can convince them they're not alone, as long as you can convince them that you're with them, they won't give up."

Sam stayed quiet for a long time before finally responding. "You make it sound easy," he joked, a crooked smile covering his embarrassment.

"What I mean is, maybe that's what Dean needs? I mean I'm probably way off, coz I don't know the first thing about any of this stuff that's been your life. I don't know anything about Dean. But you two seem so alike. I never realised because I've never known your family, I'd never met Dean, I'd never known your world outside of us, outside of college and you and me and the kids. But I get it now, why you care so much. It's the way you were raised. It's the world you come from. I think Dean's the same. I mean all the time we've been together Sam, I never met him, I never even spoke to him, and then we turn up out of the blue and he just drops everything and makes us the focus of his whole life?!"

"Middle of the night," Sam muttered with a smile, remembering the conversation with Dean when he'd burst into his life. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

"What?" Jess asked, as lost at his remark now as Sam had been when Dean had made it.

"Nothing," he shook his head dismissively and Jess stared at him a moment before continuing.

"My point is, you've been apart a long time. Maybe he's forgotten that he has a family. Maybe all he needs is a reminder that you still love him. That you're still there for him."

"It's not that simple. Dean and I, we… Dean doesn't do affection."

"He does with Deanna. I've heard him reading to her, talking with her. That's not someone who's cold and unaffectionate."

"Yeah, well. That's with Deanna. It's not the same between us. Not anymore."

"But it isn't just you anymore, is it? It's all of us. Me and the kids. We're his family too, aren't we? He's our family. Maybe he doesn't realise because he's never been around us."

"Maybe," Sam conceded, but even with the concession, he didn't know how to use that fact.

"Have you told him?" Jess asked, referring to something they both clearly knew about. "About what we discussed; does he know?" When Sam shook his head, she continued. "Maybe it'd help if you told him?"

Sam thought about it, then ventured a query. "So… You're still okay with that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I trust him… And I trust you."

Sam swallowed hard, daring to look into her eyes. "Despite everything?" he asked cautiously. "Even after I've lied to you about my whole life?"

"You didn't lie about everything, counsellor. You just omitted certain facts."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Oh hell no! I'm pissed. I'm really, really pissed. And I'm scared and I'm half thinking I've gone crazy and half hoping any second now I'll wake up. And then I'm pissed all over again. And I don't even know if I'm pissed at you, or at the world, or both, or just you."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll deal with that. We'll deal with that, once we get Kyle back and we're all together again. Just tell me you can get him back. Because I need to believe that you believe that Sam. I can't… I can't…" But it was there that her courage gave out and she shook her head. "Just tell me you can get him back to me."

"I can. But I need Dean. And I need…"

"What? Tell me? What do you need?"

"I need to get back into hunting. I need to get my head back in the game. I've been out so long Jess. I don't even know where I'm at. And going up against Lilith… I don't know how out of practice I am."

"So go and find out. Train or whatever."

"It's more than training Jess," he said softly. "I need to start hunting again."

"So start hunting again."

"I don't think you know what I mean. What it means."

"I don't care!" It was the first time Jess had come close to raising her voice, and Deanna stirred a little in her sleep at the change in tempo. It gave Jessica pause to regain her composure. "You're right. I don't know what you mean. I don't know what hunting means. But I don't care. That bitch has our son, so whatever you need to do to get him back, you do it. You hear me? Whatever it is, I don't care. Just… Just get him back. Please Sam, get our son back."

Her tears slipped then and Sam couldn't bear it, bending down to hold her, to kiss her, to give her anything he could, his very heart and soul right then if it would have fixed it all.

"Get me back my son," she repeated against his chest, as if whispering into his heart, as if invoking a sacred vow. "Promise me Sam. Promise me."

"I promise Jess. It's gonna be okay. I'll make it okay. I swear. I'll figure out a way."

After a few moments she pushed him away, composure and strength returning even as the tears were still wet on her cheeks, and he was in love with her all over again for it.

"Just don't get yourself killed okay? Because I'm still pissed at you Sam Winchester, and if anyone gets to kick your ass you when this is all over, it's me."

He nodded, knowing she was only half joking, but not wanting it any other way.


tbc - sooner than the last time hopefully.

As always, thank you for reading.