AN: Here there be dragons. Content warning for canon typical violence and major character death.

The hellhound on Dean's heels brings him down hard. He manages to twist around so he's on his back, but can't push the damn thing off no matter how hard he tries. Jo's shout registers the same moment pain blooms across his left side. The beast sinks its claws just below his rib cage and drags them all the way to his hip. He screams and someone lets loose a few shotgun rounds into the hellhound's back.

The monster moves off him, slinking across the pavement to join the rest of its pack, its outline visible now. Dean twists around to look at Jo, who's reloading her gun, when he sees another shadowy figure stalking towards her. He raises the Colt—of which he hadn't let go—and shoots it. It still manages to clip her upper arm on its way down, sending her to her knees.

Then Sam's by his side, helping him up and dragging him across the asphalt. Dean's knees give out after a few steps, his brother's hold the only thing keeping him from collapsing. He can hear Jo and Ellen shooting at the still pursuing hellhounds, when they make it into one of the shops. A hardware store, by the looks of it.

As Sam sets him down and props him against the counter, he hears the other two barricade the doors. Dean loses track of time for a bit. Coming to, he feels Jo's soft hand against his face, lightly tapping. He must have passed out.

"Hey," she says as he tries to focus on her watery smile. "Try to stay awake."

There's a first aid kit on the ground between her knees and someone seems to have hastily wrapped some gauze around her own injuries.

"Stupid... ugh... mutts..." Dean barely gets the words out. His vision swims and he sets the Colt down to run a hand over his face. "Son of a bitch!"

"They can't get in, for now," Jo says, then pries his left hand away from his side and lifts his shirt. "Shit…"

"Thanks... for the save," Dean can tell that he's in bad shape by the look that shifts across her features briefly.

"Wish I'd managed to get it quicker," she says. "Maybe then..." her voice catches and she clears her throat. She gives him a tremulous smile. "Maybe then it wouldn't have used you as a scratching post."

Dean laughs, then tenses as the movement jostles his wound. But Jo's smile drops as she does her best to clean up the still bleeding gashes. Which seems to be a losing battle. He grunts when she presses a few thick, iodine covered bandages to his torn side.

"Sorry," Jo mumbles. A few tears roll down her cheeks when she fastens the dressing with some medical tape. "It needs to be tight enough to keep you from bleeding out."

"It's okay," he tells her, and almost hates himself for lying.

"No, it's not!" she snaps. Her hands, he notices, are shaking.

Dean doesn't know what else to say and he doesn't want to upset her more. So he keeps quiet. And holds still while Jo wraps two whole rolls of gauze around his torso. When she's done, she wipes her hands on a rag and tosses aside what's left of the first aid kit.

"Mom and Sam are talking to Bobby," Jo says after a while. "To see if he can send someone to give us a hand. Take you to a hospital."

"Jo…"

"No, Dean!" Jo's voice is an angry hiss. "You're getting to a hospital, even if I have to carry you there."

"What about... the hellhounds?" He tries to keep his own voice calm. She doesn't deserve anger right now. "'Cause those bitches aren't... gonna let up... once they've got our scent."

"I've figured that out the moment I set foot in this place," Jo says. "We rig up a bomb and, once we're out the back door, one of us lets them in. Smell of blood's gonna attract them. Then we blow the place up."

She's determined, he'll give her that. And it's a good plan. It would even work, if he weren't in such a bad shape. But Jo looks so hopeful that she can save him, that it seems cruel to burst her bubble. As he's mulling over how to tell her—and Sam and Ellen too—that this is probably the end of the line for him, the latter two return from what seems to be the back of the shop.

"What'd Bobby say?" Jo asks.

"He made some calls," says Ellen, as she bends down to pick up her weapons bag. "No one's in the vicinity. Only Annie, and she's at least a day away, even if she starts driving right now."

"Then we'll have to split up," Jo says. "One of us'll drive Dean to the closest ER and the other two go take out the Devil."

"What about the hounds?" Sam asks, throwing Dean a worried look.

Jo tells him her plan.

"What about… Cas?" Dean's voice comes out rough, but he has to ask. There has to be another way.

"He's been a no-show," Ellen answers, as Sam and Jo get to work. "Ever since he went to see about those damn reapers, there's been no sign of him." She kneels across from him. "He must have walked into a trap."

Dean hums, then tries to hide a wince as a stab of pain shoots through his side. Ellen, of course, notices.

"How're you holding up?". But the worried frown she fixes him with tells him that she probably knows the answer.

"We both know… I won't be… walking away from this," Dean says. "I'll be lucky… if I make it to the car… not to mention… the hospital."

"Don't be stupid, of course you will!" Ellen smiles at him then, a little tearful. "Especially if Jo drives. I don't know how she got her license, with the way she doesn't give a rat's ass about speed limits."

Dean laughs at that. And then screws his eyes shut to ride out the agony that action causes. Ellen grabs his shoulder and squeezes gently in support.

"There's a band-aid…" he coughs, flinches, "and some gauze… holding my guts in, Ellen." He can feel his next breath rattle in his chest. "I'll just end up… dying on the way there. I can't… do that to her."

"Well, we can't just leave you to get ripped up by the hellhounds."

Ellen's tone is harsh, but quiet enough that the others don't hear. There's an unspoken again in there.

"You won't have to," Dean says. "But you can give me… the detonator. Rig the doors to open… after you've… ugh… cleared out. Use the fire escape. I'll blow them sky high… and you guys get Lucifer."

Ellen's silent for a few minutes, while Dean catches his breath. The more time passes, the weaker he feels. But he needs to get them to understand that there's no better way. At least, like this, he'll be the only one to bite the dust, hopefully.

"Please, Ellen," he says, covering her hand on his shoulder with one of his own. "I need you to talk down Jo for me… while I talk to Sam." He lets go of her hand and picks up the Colt, then gives it to her. "Please."

Ellen nods and takes the gun. Her hands are shaking, just like her daughter's had been earlier. Dean hates himself for putting them through this. She seems to understand, though. He probably would have been worse if it had been one of them who got hurt, especially Sam. But she's the most level-headed one of them all. If anyone can talk sense into a bunch of stubborn hunters, it would be Ellen.

"Okay," she says, then leans forward and kisses the top of his head.

Dean swallows thickly around the lump in his throat as Ellen gets up. He watches her walk to where Sam and Jo are almost finished, and takes the opportunity to scrub away his own tears. He hopes he'll have the energy to convince Sam to let him do this.

His brother puts down the bag of road salt he'd been using and takes what looks like a doorbell from Jo's hand. As Jo and Ellen move toward the entrance, he comes closer to where Dean is.

"Hey, what's up?" Sam squats to be eye-level with him.

"That… what you're gonna use… for a detonator?" Dean stretches out the hand that's not holding his side and Sam gives it over.

"I was gonna use a wired one," he says, and Dean notices the taped together lines that stick out of the small device. "Couldn't find one, so I improvized."

Good idea, Dean thinks. It's better to have that certainty, rather than risk being out of range with a cordless one.

"Is it ready?" Dean asks, resting his hand on his thigh.

Sam gives him a weird look when he doesn't hand the detonator back.

"Not yet," Sam says. "I still have to attach the other end. But the rest is good to go." He holds his hand out again, yet Dean makes no move and that's when he figures it out. "Dean, come on."

"Sam, this is it," Dean keeps his voice as steady as he can, given the circumstances. "I'm not… making it outta here. So I might as well… buy you guys some time… to get out."

"No, Dean," Sam's voice catches and he kneels so he can get closer. "Dammit! There's still time to get you help. And you don't need to die for this plan to work."

"Sam, listen to me!"

Dean uses his left hand to grab and lightly shake his brother. It's painful, very much so, and almost causes him to fold in half. But he needs Sam's full attention.

"I'm dying," his breath comes in shallow gasps, and he forces himself to calm down. "I can feel it. If you guys… even manage to get me to a car… I'll just croak on the road." He grunts and tenses, moving his hand back to his side. "You need… to take out Lucifer. I'll make sure… the hellhounds don't… get you… first."

"Dean…" Sam's face scrunches in pain and tears spill over.

It hurts, seeing his little brother so broken. But Dean doesn't know how much longer he can hang on, so he fights to hold it together. And he manages, barely.

"Please, Sam," he says. "You've gotta let me… do this. I wish… I didn't have to… and I'm sorry. But please…"

Sam closes his eyes and leans forward, barely suppressing a sob. He hugs Dean as hard as he can without causing more pain, and Dean moves his arms to return the embrace. He's weak, but he can do as much. For a few moments, they stay like that. Sam shakes a bit as he cries and Dean can feel his own tears slide down his face. He hates having to do this, wishes there was another way. But he needs to make sure the other three have a chance.

When they part, Sam's face is wet with tears. Dean swipes a hand across his own to wipe it dry and tries to smile.

"Okay," Sam says, smiles back.

He gets up and starts working on connecting the wires to the bomb proper. Dean draws a deep breath and fights a cough when it rattles again. Not a good sign. He closes his eyes. This day so didn't go the way he'd hoped.

There's the sound of footsteps from the front of the shop and Dean opens his eyes just in time to see Jo come out from behind a shelf. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are too, as well as puffy. Looks like everyone's been crying their eyes out on his behalf.

She kneels on his good side, unlike the others. And just looks at him for a few seconds. Dean swallows. He can't even begin to imagine what she's feeling, knowing that he'd be a wreck if their places were reversed. He doesn't think he could leave her, if she'd been the one hurt.

"I hate you so much right now," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say.

Jo wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. Her hands are shaking even worse now and her breathing hitches with every inhale. Then, she takes a deep breath and visibly calms down.

"Guess I'll see you on the other side," she says, voice a bit stronger now. "Sooner or later."

Even covered in blood, sweat and tears, she still looks beautiful. Dean finds himself, all of a sudden, wishing things had gone a different way. That he'd called her after the incident in Duluth. Or when he'd gotten back from Hell. It's too late now.

"Make sure… it's much later," he barely has the energy to speak anymore, but he wants to spend a bit more time in her presence. "Sorry… I didn't call… after…"

"It's okay," Jo whispers, laying her good hand against his cheek.

"I wish we had…" he says, has to cough a few times to keep his throat from closing up, "more time."

"I know," she says, swallows. "I'm sorry I pushed you away. I - "

There's a short pause, as she squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. Dean feels like someone's shoved a knife between his ribs, straight into his heart. He doesn't know if he can do this, now. He'd always known he'd go down in a blaze of glory, and he'd been okay with it. Until now. He's never wanted to live more than in this very moment. For her.

Jo's eyes snap open and she leans toward him. Dean can barely see through his own tears when he feels her lips press against his own. He gasps and kisses her back, even though it's hard to breathe. They part and look at each other, and he raises his hand to touch her face. Then pulls her in one more time. One last kiss, which he tries to sear into his memory and hers.

"Go…" he says against her lips. "Kick… Lucifer's ass."

"I will," her answer is spoken into the side of his face as she, like the others, embraces him. "I promise."

When she stands up, Dean's hand goes back to the detonator in his lap. Jo goes to her mother's side and Sam kneels by his legs again.

"I hooked everything up to the doorbell," Sam points to the object in question and Dean nods. "Jo and Ellen'll go first. Use the fire escape to get to the next building and I'll open the doors."

He raises a hand when Dean tries to interrupt him.

"It's not like you can do it yourself," he says. Dean nods again. "As soon as the salt line's broken, I'll high-tail it out the same way they went."

He turns and signals to Jo and Ellen, and the two head for the back of the shop. Dean tries to smile at them as they leave.

"You ready?" Sam asks him and Dean turns back to his brother.

"Yeah…" he says. "Take care, Sammy."

Sam says nothing to that. Just pats his knee and gets up, moving towards the door. On his way, he opens the gas tanks he's placed into buckets, and the smell spreads across the room quickly. Dean braces himself for the next bit. He's close to the finish line, he can feel it. But he's determined to blow those beasts up, no matter what. All he has to do is hold on a little longer.

With one last look Dean's way, Sam undoes the chain Ellen had wrapped around the door handles. He scatters the salt and turns around again, hand on the lock.

"Bye, Dean," he says and twists the nob.

Then, Sam bolts in the opposite direction, his long legs carrying him past his brother and toward safety.

Dean picks up the makeshift detonator, places his thumb on the button and faces the doors. Waits. He feels a frisson run through him as one of the hounds growls. The edges of his vision start graying out, but he blinks furiously. He can't give in now, not when it's so close to being over. Just when the cold starts creeping into his joints, the doors burst open.

One by one, the hellhounds file into the store. Being this close to death, and having been marked, Dean can see them now. He hates it. Remembers when they first came for him, the terror he'd felt at seeing them then. He swallows, but doesn't look away.

There're five of them, and one looks injured. He'd killed two with the Colt, so there must have been seven. There's no way of really knowing, though. He prays that there aren't any more roaming the town.

Dean lets them get as close as possible, every breath he takes coming harder than the last. Just when the one with the bloody back is within reaching distance—its foul odor in Dean's face—he grins. This is it, he thinks. Game over.

"Come and… get me…" he whispers, breath hitching, "you ugly… bitches…"

The hounds growl, the other four getting closer, drooling at the prospect of an easy meal. Dean presses the button.

The hardware store goes up in flames the moment Sam sets foot on the roof of the adjoining building. Jo stares at the blaze. She feels like there's a claw shredding her heart to bits. He's gone. He's gone, again. And there's nothing she can do about it. Just like last time.

A jolt of pain shoots through her arm, where the gashes are. The entire limb feels like it's on fire. Jo didn't know wounds caused by a hellhound could be so painful. She starts to wonder if this is what Dean felt, too, then nips that thought in the bud. Not going there. No way.

Her mother puts one hand on her lower back and the other on Sam's elbow. They both turn to her.

"We've gotta go," her mom says, voice rough but face dry.

And she's right. There'll be time for crying later. Jo wipes at her face and so does Sam. They make eye contact and nod. She knows he's even more determined to take out the Devil than he'd been a few hours ago. But when her mom hands him the Colt, he shakes his head. Doesn't take it.

"It's better if one of you shoots him," he says. "He'll probably feel my approach, so I won't be able to get close enough."

"I'll do it," Jo blurts out. She wants to kill that bastard so bad. "If you distract him, I can get close and put a bullet through his head."

"Jo, honey, you're hurt," her mom says. "Let me do it."

"I'm fine." Jo straightens her back and stares her mother down. "Please let me do this, mom."

There's a moment of silence. Jo's worried, for a few seconds, that her mom's gonna fight her on this. That, now of all times, they'll have to have a screaming match a few feet away from a burning building. But her mom just hands her the Colt and swallows back any argument. Jo takes it. Her hand still shakes, but she doesn't drop the gun.

Having agreed to a plan, they head down through the building. Like its neighbor, this store's doors are open too. The street, when they reach it, is quiet. No sign—nor sound—of any more hellhounds.

They don't take the cars. It's a relatively short walk to where—according to Bobby—Lucifer will try to raise Death. The Horseman of the Apocalypse.

Well, she thinks, the Devil's in for a rude awakening. She checks to see that the remaining bullets—three of them—are all in the right place. They are. She'll only need one, though.

When they're close, Sam splits from them. He doesn't try to hide his presence. Jo and her mom sneak around the tree line, weapons at the ready. The sound of Sam trading words with Lucifer carries to the edge of the clearing. They split up again. Ellen hangs back a bit, her hunting rifle—loaded with iron bullets—cocked and ready to provide cover, should Jo need it.

Jo gets as close as she can without alerting the archangel. This is one shot she can't afford to miss. Dean sure as hell wouldn't. Jo knows that, if he'd survived, he'd have been the one with the Colt. She gets ready. She can see Sam and he sees her. When he signals her with a subtle hand gesture, Jo pounces.

Lucifer doesn't expect Jo Harvelle to jump out at him with a gun, it seems. The bullet hits him right between the eyes and he goes down. Just like a sack of potatoes. Jo swallows and stares at him. Her breath comes heavy and her hand starts shaking again. Gun and all. Her mom didn't even need to let loose one shot.

But then, Lucifer's eyes snap open and his body jerks. He sits up and raises a hand to the hole in his head.

"Ooow!" The Devil looks at her with an expression that borders on betrayal. "Where'd you get that thing?" He frowns.

Jo's frozen to the spot, her arm still outstretched and her fingers clenched around the Colt—like a damn deer in the headlights. A fitting comparison, she thinks. Lucifer flicks his wrist and the world tilts. She goes flying. Hits a tree, the air whooshing out of her lungs, and collapses.

She can barely hear her mother's frantic voice and wonders why she isn't dead yet. Cold and trembling hands touch her cheeks, and Jo struggles to focus on the two faces staring down at her. Her mother and Sam look downright terrified. Then a third face joins them and her world tilts once more.

They're all by the cars now and Jo can breathe again. Sam helps her up and she recognizes Cas by his weird trench coat. It seems he'd arrived just in the nick of time to get them all out of there.

But the Colt had failed to kill the Devil. She looks down at her right hand, which is still clutching said gun. Feels an overwhelming urge to toss it into the flames that'd claimed Dean's life.

"It didn't work," Jo says, still staring at the gun. "It was all for nothing."

Her mother gently pries the weapon out of her numb fingers. No one speaks for a few long moments, and Jo turns away from her companions. Eyes wandering to the burning husk of the hardware store, Jo lets loose the tears she'd tried to hold under control since the moment she'd heard Dean's anguished cry. All for nothing.

"Where is Dean?" Cas' question is like a shock to her system.

Sam and her mother take turns explaining while they pack away their gear. Jo's tears slide down her face, fast and furious, and she closes her eyes. All for nothing. Dean died for nothing. She wraps her arms around her middle, ignoring the way it pulls at her wounds. There's ice in her veins and she thinks she'll never be warm again.

A gentle hand rubbing up and down her back makes Jo open her eyes. It's her mom. She's got tear tracks on her cheeks, too, and she guides Jo to the passenger side of their truck. Once Jo's in, her mom gets behind the wheel and starts the car. With one last look towards the burning shop, they depart, leaving Carthage—and Dean—behind.

It hurts. It hurts so much. It's so much worse this time around. At least the first time he'd died, it'd been for his brother. Now, it was for nothing. Jo doesn't know how she'll cope.

"I could bring him back, you know," a voice behind her pipes up.

Jo almost jumps out of her skin when she twists around and sees Lucifer lounging in the back seat. She turns to warn her mother, but the latter doesn't react. Not to the voice, nor to Jo's movement. She turns back to Lucifer.

"You're not even here, are you?" Jo croaks. She really wants to shoot the bastard again. "This is all in my head."

"It's still real," Lucifer says.

"Why would you bring him back?" Jo wants to at least find out why he's offering to resurrect one of his enemies.

"Oh, I don't care about him," is his answer. "Not one bit. But Sam does. And I want Sam."

"So why are you talking to me, then?" Jo says. This doesn't make any sense. "Why not offer to Sam?"

"Because, right now, he won't accept."

"And you thought I would?" Jo wants to laugh in his face.

"Hey, it was worth a try." His hand comes down on Jo's shoulder, surprisingly gently. Jo still flinches. "If you convince Sam to be my vessel, I can bring Dean back for you."

Never in her life had Jo been more tempted to make a deal. She has to clench her teeth and ball her fists. Holds herself still, even though Lucifer's touch repulses her. As does his very presence. But if she accepts his offer, Dean would never forgive her.

"Go screw yourself," she says.

"Aw, don't be mean," his hand disappears from her shoulder. "Besides, you'd be sparing Dean another eternity of torture. It wasn't exactly fun for him the first go 'round."

Jo's chest tightens painfully at the mention of Dean's previous stay in Hell. The thought that he might be trapped there again, that he's reliving those horrors, makes her want to throw up. She swallows the bile.

"He blew himself up this time," Jo says, fights to keep her voice from wobbling. She twists to stare out ahead. "Maybe he'll go to Heaven now."

"Nuh uh," Lucifer retort is gleeful. "Once you're marked by a hellhound, downstairs is the only place you're headed." He pokes her in the upper arm and Jo has to bite back a shout. "Unless you get an angel to heal the wounds. Or they fix themselves, but that takes time. These go as deep as the very soul."

Jo shudders. She knows he's right, that Dean's probably doomed. And, since her own injuries are still fresh, she is too. She won't fall for Lucifer's tricks, though.

"Like I said," Jo shifts around to face him again, looking him in the eyes, "go screw yourself. I'm not making any deals with you."

For a moment, he seems stunned. Like her rejection doesn't compute. There's an almost impressed expression on his stolen face, but that's quickly replaced with one of indifference.

"Well, can't say I didn't try," he says. He stares at her for a minute, seeming to size her up. "Not many people would pass up such an offer. You're a tough cookie. No wonder the Winchesters trust you on a hunt."

And then he's gone and Jo startles. Her face is plastered to the window and her eyes almost refuse to open. She looks around frantically and spots her mom walking towards the car, returning from a rest stop. Bathroom break, probably. She closes her eyes again.

Jo can't tell how long she'd been out to the world. The Impala starts up in front of them as her mother enters the truck. Jo cracks open one eye and spies Sam behind the wheel, Cas in the passenger seat.

Jo pretends to be asleep when her mom starts the engine. Her heart's still beating up a storm, the whole conversation with the Devil running on a loop in her mind. She's so damn wired—and terrified—that she sits there, wide awake. Fights her weariness. No way that bastard gets the drop on her again.