Chapter Twenty-Three:

After their fiery entrance, Sam, Benny and Cas found more trouble within the castle itself. There were extra guards in the hallways, and Sam had a hell of a time fighting them off. Benny helped when he could, but mainly he had to keep Castiel on his feet.

The three made it through the corridors slowly, leaving unconscious bodies and possibly worse in their wake. Sam was starting to breathe heavily. None of their combatants had even close to his level of swordsmanship, but taking one after another and sometimes several together was certainly taxing his endurance.

Cas was calling out directions from his place at Benny's side. "A few more turns and we'll be at the chapel room," he said.

Benny could not help but feel that this was a misguided plan. Castiel had his desperation to save Dean, and Sam of course could not be slowed down now that they were this close to the yellow-eyed man. But the fact remained that they had no reason to believe they could survive an encounter with a god like Prince Chuck.

"Are we sure about this?" Benny asked. For now they were walking through a quiet hall, all guards subdued behind them for the time being. Cas turned his head to face Benny, and Sam looked his way as well.

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Well, that Chuck fellow. What are we supposed to do about him?"

Neither Sam nor Castiel spoke for a moment. It was clear from the look on Sam's face that he had no set course of action in mind besides 'kill Azazel' and 'stay alive.'

Not particularly reassuring.

"We fight," said Castiel finally.

Sam nodded his agreement and Benny just sighed. For once he did not envy them their humanity, and instead pitied the way they could be ruled, even foolishly so, by their fierce hearts.

But he had promised Sam that he would stay by him, to the end of the road. He'd grown fond of Castiel as well, despite the fact that the fallen angel was currently a burdensome weight on his shoulder.

They were just about to turn another corner when all Hell broke loose. Benny could hear, by his estimate, no less than ten pairs of feet charging towards them. The vampire made a split-second decision and shoved Castiel as far away from himself as possible, in the opposite direction of the incoming party. He staggered away, but Benny had no time to watch if he stayed upright.

Benny quickly fanged out, and Sam was all ready with his sword, and then the host of guards were upon them. These were not the green watchmen of the main gate, but instead a great many of the skilled Royal Guard.

Sam engaged with four at once, which was generally his upper limit. Benny grabbed one before he could swing his blade and practically tossed the smaller man down the hall. Three more guards approached him, and he had to dodge the tips of their swords; there was nothing to be done but to survive.

Sam was faring a little better, but quickly getting worn down. Constant parrying, his feet dancing like they were on hot coals, every move immediately followed by another to prevent attacks from landing.

Benny let out a groan as he got a shallow slash in the abdomen. As a vampire, it wouldn't kill him, but it would slow him down. Which would still kill him, once they managed to get a chance at his neck.

And then Benny saw him. One of the guards attacking him had yellow eyes.

Terrible, cruel yellow eyes.

But Sam had not yet seen, as he was still busy with two of his own opponents.

"Sam!" Benny called out. "Azazel!"

Count Azazel blinked, having no idea why or how this vampire knew his name, or what he hoped to accomplish by saying it aloud.

It was a fraction of a second before it registered in Sam's mind. Another fraction of a second until he found the object of Benny's gaze.

"Azazel?" he questioned, even as he brought his sword up to block his chest from another attack.

The guard by Benny turned at the sound of his own name, and then Sam saw those awful yellow eyes for himself.

The change this caused in Sam was something quite terrific to behold. Suddenly his power and fury came through in every thrust of his sword, faster than he had been, stronger, no longer tired.

It was an unfortunate bloody affair, but there was no more time for games. Sam ended the two guards he faced and went to help Benny. He slashed at those closest to him, knocked them back and away and down. They groaned and grimaced and held hands against their bleeding wounds.

Nothing could touch Sam now, not a thing, and it was apparent to all. Two of the guards that remained, though brave and strong, had seen enough of the massacre. They ran down the hall, stumbling over themselves to get away.

But not Azazel. The Count had turned away from Benny when it became apparent who the real threat was. Now it was just the three of them. Castiel was somewhere out of sight, two guards had fled, and the rest were strewn along the floor, dead or dying.

Count Azazel looked at Sam, and Sam looked at him.

"Hello," Sam said, in a voice that was deadly calm. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

The Count didn't have the faintest clue who that was, because in truth he had probably killed a lot of people's mothers over the years. A few things were clear, though. He was outnumbered, with a vampire at his back and the greatest swordsman he had ever seen in front of him - one apparently with a furious need for vengeance. Count Azazel was no coward, not generally, but he was also no idiot. He'd have to get away first, then perhaps gain the upper hand, or at least lose one of them.

And so, to the surprise of them all, Count Azazel bolted down the only way that wasn't blocked - the hall to his immediate left. Sam was too stunned for a moment that the monster he had built up in his head might actually flee. But then his brain caught up. He flew after the Count, and heard the sound of Benny's footsteps right behind him.

The Count ran and ran. He blew around corners and through a thick set of double doors, which he barred behind him. His knowledge of the castle was certainly coming in handy.

Benny could not keep up with Sam. His side was bleeding freely - perhaps the wound was deeper than he thought. Certainly hurt like hell.

"Sam, wait, I don't think I can -"

Sam was now throwing himself against the barred door through which Azazel had escaped. He glanced at Benny, but he could not stop. "Benny, I have to do this. Go back, find Cas, get somewhere safe. Azazel is mine."

"Sam, brother -" started Benny.

"Go!"

Benny had no choice but to do as he said; he'd only be a liability to Sam in this state, and he couldn't do that to him. The vampire turned away, and once he was some feet down the hall, he heard the tell-tale sound of the door finally giving in to Sam's weight.

Good luck, brother, thought Benny.

Sam took the crash into the next room with as much grace as he could manage. He quickly regained his balance and tried to scan his surroundings, but he was not fast enough. Count Azazel leaped out from behind a pillar and, with a practiced aim, threw a dagger in the giant's direction. It whizzed through the air and landed with an unthinkable sound in Sam's gut.

Pain and disbelief enveloped Sam. He fell back against the wall for support. He clutched at his wound, and his own red blood coated his hand.

Count Azazel approached him, still with caution but clearly feeling as though the threat was greatly diminished. He finally had a chance to look at his foe properly.

There was familiarity in the shape of his face, the color and rage in his eyes. It was then the recognition hit. The boy had been big for his age even then, but who would have known the giant he would become?

The large man spoke suddenly, through gritted teeth. "Hello," he said. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"Yes, I know. I remember you now. You're that brat I taught a lesson to, all those years ago."

Sam raised his sword slowly. "Hello," he repeated. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"Are you still trying to win? Have you spent your whole life hunting for me, only to fail now? That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." Azazel's lips curled into a mocking smile.

Sam gritted his teeth some more and straightened his stance.

Count Azazel stepped back slightly.

"Hello!" said Sam, louder now. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary! You killed my mother. Prepare to die!"

Sam pulled the dagger from his belly and pressed against the wound with his hand. He stepped forward, sword raised and pointed towards the Count. "Hello!" he shouted. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother, prepare to die!"

Count Azazel lifted his own sword just in time to block Sam's sudden attack. And then the two were at it, blades connecting in a cacophony of metallic clinks.

Sam advanced, his pain forgotten now, his body fueled by adrenaline and his mind by rage. "Hello! My name is Samuel, son of Mary! You killed my mother! Prepare to die!"

"Stop saying that!" yelled Azazel, unable to keep the panic from his voice. And for good reason - he was losing ground and the giant showed no signs of slowing, despite the gut wound. Then Azazel's back was to the wall.

Sam smashed his sword down against Azazel's weapon, and the power of the swing made the Count lose his grip. His sword clattered uselessly to the floor, and then the point of Sam's blade was directly over his heart.

Now that he was here, another memory struck Azazel. This sword against him now was one he had commissioned, long ago. At that time many of his enemies were fellow demons, and he had specifically asked for one that would be useful against even them. One that could kill them.

All the color drained from his face, a fact Sam couldn't help but notice. "You remembered, didn't you?" he asked. "Thought you were safe enough, but this is no ordinary sword, is it?"

The Count swallowed.

Sam dug the point in deeper against his chest. "Offer me money," he said.

"Yes, of course," agreed the Count.

"Power too, promise me that."

"Yes, all that I have and more!"

"Offer me everything I ask for!" Sam demanded.

"Anything you want," Count Azazel spat sourly back.

"I want my mother back, you son of a bitch," said Sam, and then he drove the blade home.

Azazel's eyes flickered briefly with demonic light and energy, but then it was all extinguished to nothing. The shock was still on his face when he died.

Sam removed the sword and let Azazel's body slide to the ground. A wave of emotions washed over him, the primary one being relief. It was over and he had done right by his mother, even if he could never bring her back.

Sam turned away from the ugly scene and began to walk back the way he had come, through the broken double doors. He kept his fist pressed against his stomach wound. He wasn't sure how bad it might be, but he was determined to see Benny and Castiel again, even if it was the last thing he managed to do.