Author's Note:

Haha I told you I was a slow writer. In my defence this chapter is about twice as long as the previous two.

This one is veeery dialogue heavy, but it takes us nearly to the end of Sympathy for the Devil (finally).

Also, just for peace of mind, I do have a plan for this story.

Lastly, this story is being cross-posted on Ao3, where the tags offer a little more info about the story. The Ao3 version is also illustrated.

Thank you for all the kind reviews! They really make my day :D

(And to answer your question, Natasha Walker, it's a bit of a spoiler, but yes ;^P)

Here there be Demons

It was dark.

All around him as far as he could see, blackness. He was floating in a featureless void.

After what might have been minutes, but felt like years, he noticed a white glow beginning behind him. He whipped around to find something that looked like one of those nebulas that Sammy was so obsessed with in 6th grade. It was all white, and as he studied it, it seemed to reach out towards him. Tendrils creeping closer from across the blackness.

As the light continued to approach, he heard whispers picking up all around him. Thousands of voices speaking words he couldn't understand. They got louder as the light got closer.

The noise reached near unbearable levels as he finally made contact with the light. The tendrils made their way up his arm. It was warm and tingly, and if it weren't for the noise he might even enjoy it.

The voices got louder still, and the light got brighter.

Soon he could hear nothing but whining and see nothing but white.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take, it felt like his head was going to explode-

Dean sat bolt upright. That was…

What the hell was that?

He let out a slow breath and turned to look at Sam in the bed across from him. He was still asleep, not surprising given the last few days, and then out the window. The sun was just beginning to light up the motel parking lot.

Dean sighed, there was no way he was getting back to sleep, and threw the blanket off of his legs. He made his way to the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he made his way back into the room, Sam was sitting up in bed and dragging a tired hand down his face.

"Morning sunshine," Dean said gruffly. Sam blinked a couple of times, acknowledging Dean with a grunt.

Dean chewed his lip for a moment before speaking again.

"Did you sleep ok? No, uh… no weird dreams or anything?"

Sam furrowed his brow,

"Don't think so," he answered, "why, did you?"

"Nah," Dean lied, "just thought with everything that happened maybe you'd slept badly. How are you doing, by the way?"

Sam blinked, "I'm… actually… ok? I guess whatever zapped us onto that airplane must've cleaned me up or something."

"Good. That's good." Dean said.

There was an awkward silence.

"Right, I'm gonna go get us some breakfast you… do whatever." Dean didn't give Sam a chance to respond before he was out the door.

Several hours later, they were sitting in their room in relative silence. The only noise was coming from the news channel Dean was only sort of paying attention to. Sam was at the small motel room table pretending to search their dad's journal for possible advice. Really, they were both just taking a minute to collect themselves.

Dean was once again scratching at his collar due to yet another round of aggravating buzzing. He looked up when there was a knock at the door.

Dean turned off the TV and exchanged a look with Sam. Sam moved to answer the door with his gun tucked behind his back. Dean tensed in his spot on the bed.

Sam peered out the peephole and carefully opened the door. On the other side was… not what Dean was expecting.

There was a short blonde woman standing very close to the door. She had big eyes that were glued to Sam like he'd saved her life just by being there.

The woman gasped in a way that made her sound more than a little distressed.

"Are you ok lady?" Sam asked.

"Sam! Is it really you?" she breathed. Sam tried to back away but she pressed a hand to his chest before he could get away, "And you're so firm!"

At this point, Dean was desperately trying to hold back his snickers. Sam asked, "Do I know you?"

"No!" the woman said, "But I know you! You're Sam Winchester! And you're-" she turned to look at Dean, "...not what I pictured." Dean and Sam shared an uneasy look.

"I'm Becky," she continued, "I've read all about you guys! I've even written a few…" she trailed off, and Dean decided that was enough.

"How the hell did you find us?" he asked

"Mr. Edlund sent me!" Becky said, "He couldn't come himself because he's being watched," she leaned in like she had a secret to tell them, "angels!" she whispered.

Dean was suddenly very interested, "Chuck? Chuck has a message for us?"

"Yes!" Becky squealed, then she turned to look at Sam. Her gaze was probably supposed to be soulful, but was mostly just creepy, "I memorized every word. For you."

Dean was officially creeped the hell out, but this chick had information for them. Information that they desperately needed, so someone had to get this conversation moving. Sam beat him to it.

"Becky, what did he say?"

Becky snapped to attention, "He said, 'The Michael Sword is on earth. The angels lost it.'"

"The Michael Sword?" that definitely sounded like something that could kill Lucifer, "Does he know where it is?" Dean asked.

"In a castle," she replied, "on a hill made of 42 dogs."

"That… doesn't make any sense." Dean said, "42 dogs?" the buzzing was back.

"I know! But that's what he said, it's a mystery!" Becky sounded far too excited about that. Dean sighed.

They needed to call Bobby.

They finally managed to shoo Becky out of the motel room, and Dean phoned Bobby. Now they were waiting for him to arrive.

Dean was fidgeting with the remote when a knock announced Bobby's arrival. He got up to open the door, and immediately regretted it.

As soon as Dean reached the door, he stumbled. What had so far been a more or less subdued buzzing became an all-encompassing roar. He didn't know how or why, but he knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was bad.

It was only when Sam spoke that Dean realised he had frozen in front of the closed door. "Dean? What is it?"

Dean… couldn't answer. The roaring was paralyzing. A thrumming beat that chanted 'wrong, wrong, twisted, evil'

"Dean!" he heard Sam shout, he sounded so far away.

It was only when a hand wrapped around his shoulder that Dean felt like he could breathe again. The roaring chant didn't go away, but it was more manageable. He realized Sam was still calling his name and he looked up at his brother.

"Something's not right, Sammy."

"Yeah, no kidding!" Sam looked like he wanted to shake him.

"No, I mean with whoever's on the other side of the door." Dean was beginning to feel frantic.

Sam glanced at the door, "Is it not Bobby?" he asked?

As if to answer his question, a voice shouted from the hallway, "Are you boys gonna let me in sometime today?"

It certainly sounded like Bobby and yet, somehow Dean knew it couldn't be him.

Sam, however, didn't seem to feel the same. Before Dean could stop him, Sam had pulled open the door. The Bobby-impersonator entered the room, gripping Sam in a tight hug that made Dean feel sick.

"It's good to see you, boy," it said. Then it faced Dean, and the angry roaring picked up again. "Dean-" it started but Dean was already backing away.

"Sam get the hell away from it!" he barked.

Sam jumped away from the thing on instinct but gave Dean a questioning look.

"Something wrong Dean?" fake-Bobby asked, narrowing its eyes at him.

"You tell me you son of a bitch! What'd you do with Bobby?" Dean growled.

"Dean what-" Sam started, but he was cut off when the thing wearing Bobby's face grabbed him. It twisted his arm behind his back and its eyes flashed black.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way. Shame, I was lookin' forward to breaking poor Sammy's spirit a little bit first." it was a demon. That explained the evil that Dean could practically smell rolling off of it in waves.

It did not, however, explain why he could practically smell the evil rolling off of it in waves, but Dean had more important things to worry about right now. Namely the demon that currently had his little brother in an arm lock.

The Demon grinned cruelly at Dean, "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna tell me everything you know about the Michael Sword. You're gonna help me track it down. And then maybe if you cooperate, I'll think about letting Sammy go."

Dean continued to back up until his leg bumped against something. He reached behind his back. His hand closed around the demon-killing knife that was sitting on the nightstand. He brandished it in front of him.

"Bite me, asshole." he ground out.

"Ah, ah, ah, don't wanna hurt your surrogate daddy, do you Dean?" called an unfamiliar feminine voice through the open doorway. The roaring screamed at him as a dark-haired woman sauntered into the room flanked by two men. "Hey there Sam, long time no see," she said to Sam where he was still trapped in the hold of the demon possessing Bobby.

Dean furrowed his brows at her. She was a demon, obviously, if the barrage of evil that was assaulting his senses was anything to go by. And apparently, she knew them. Knew Sam. Dean squinted and tried to place her.

"Ruby?" he asked.

"Try again," she grinned, "go back further."

Dean wracked his brain, "Meg?!" he said after a moment.

"Bingo!" Meg said, "Hey Dean."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam grunted as he struggled against the demon's hold.

"These are the days of miracle and wonder Sam! Our father's among us." Meg had been staring dreamily into the distance. She focused sharply on Dean before continuing, "We can't have you two dummies screwing that up for us. That's why you're gonna help us track down the Michael Sword first."

"In your dreams bitch," Dean charged Meg with the demon-killing knife. He didn't get very far before being slammed against the wall by a nauseating wave of demonic force. The knife clattered to the floor.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Meg tutted as she bent down to pick it up, "you kiss your daddy with that mouth? Oh wait," she grinned, "I guess not."

Dean grit his teeth. God, he wanted to stab her right in her smug frigging face for the comment about his dad alone.

Wait a minute.

'In a castle, on a hill made of 42 Dogs'

Dad.

He needed to be sure, but first, they had a demon problem to deal with. Dean searched the room for a possible way out with his eyes. Meg was still monologuing, but her voice was distant. The roaring already seemed to be fighting against the restraints of the demon power. When Meg handed the demon knife to demon-Bobby, though, Dean felt it explode.

Suddenly he was on his knees, and the roar became a light. The next few minutes were a bright white blur for Dean. The next thing he knew he was standing over Sam while four pillars of smoke fled the building.

Sam was watching him with wide eyes, but Dean's attention had already turned to Bobby's unconscious form. He retrieved the knife and checked Bobby's pulse.

"Is he…" Sam started.

"He's alive," Dean announced, eyeing the blood on the wall behind Bobby, "but he hit his head."

Sam moved forward at that, all shock replaced with acute worry. He tried to get a look at the injury without moving Bobby.

"I don't like the angle of his neck, we should probably call a hospital."

Dean sighed, looking at the room's other unconscious occupants "Right, well we can't bring 'em here. Help me carry him."

They got Bobby to the hospital with minimal hassle. Sam spent the whole ride there shooting Dean weird looks that Dean pretended not to notice. He planned on putting off the inevitable discussion as long as possible.

They waited at the hospital long enough to learn that Bobby had a concussion and a fracture in his neck. Luckily, he was expected to make a full recovery in time. Sam wanted to wait until he woke up, but Dean shuffled him out as soon as he was sure that Bobby would be ok for the time being.

Dean was digging through his duffle when Sam's staring became too much for him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Are we gonna talk about what happened back there?" Sam asked.

"Nope," was all Dean said.

"Really?" Sam continued, "Because I've got questions that I need answers to if I'm gonna get back in that car with you."

"What do you want me to say, Sam? I barely remember it! One minute I was pinned to a wall and the next the demons were smoking out the window and Bobby was passed out on the floor." He didn't mention the roaring. Or the buzzing that had returned once the demons had gone. Dean bet Cas would know what was happening to him…

"Aha!" Dean shouted before Sam could interrogate him any further. He was holding a small plastic bag triumphantly in the air.

"Why were you looking for that?" Sam asked. It was a bag full of random maps and paper scraps of information that were too valuable to throw away.

Dean dug around in the bag until he found the small business card he had been looking for.

"Dad had a storage locker in upstate New York where he kept all his dangerous junk. But look here" he held the card out for Sam to read.

"Castle Storage, 42 Rover Hill," Sam read aloud.

"A castle on a hill made of 42 dogs!" Dean was grinning now.

"You're saying dad had the Michael Sword this whole time?" Sam was incredulous. Dean just headed for the Impala's driver side door.

"You comin' or not Sammy?" he asked. Sam hesitated but ultimately climbed in beside Dean.

They could worry about weird buzzing and flaky demons later. Right now, they had work to do.