Thank you so much SamGirlDeanCurious for beta'ing and VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading xxx

Chapter Ten

Dean felt John's eyes on him as he painted in the last of the devil's trap. He wondered what John was thinking, if he was nervous.

When Dean had been preparing to start the trials, he had been full of bravado and the surety that he was protecting Sam, but that had disappeared when the hellhound arrived, and he'd seen the monster that had dragged him to Hell. Only the fact that he had still been set on protecting Sam had enabled him to face it bravely. Ultimately, he had failed - Sam had killed it, and he'd never shifted that guilt because of what came after.

He finished the trap and straightened up but didn't turn until Castiel said his name and asked if he was okay. He was nervous for John. Though he knew Castiel could save him from any injuries he accrued, he wouldn't be able to do a thing if John was killed, and that could happen easily going up against a hellhound. It could rip his throat out, claw its way to his heart, bite through an artery.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said with a nod. "The trap's done."

"I can see that," John said tonelessly, not sarcasm exactly, just John Winchester at his most closed-down best.

Dean moved out of the trap as John came forward with a small tin in his hand. He bent and buried it in the gravel and then stepped back.

"Come on, you red-eyed bastard," he said.

It was disturbing for Dean to see John at the crossroads, his offering in the ground, even though he knew he wasn't there to make a deal. Though it wasn't his father where it mattered, it looked too much like him for Dean to feel comfortable with the situation.

"You've got to be kidding me," a female voice said. "Again!"

She was redhaired and pale, with full lips and blue eyes. Her dress was longer than he'd expected, more demure, and he supposed she was playing to a different audience than the demon he'd made his deal with. Her intent had been to allure. The only thing that spoiled the image of beauty were the eyes that flashed red as they settled on John.

"How many times do we have to tell you Winchesters? We cannot make a deal for Sam. It's out of our hands. Lilith has him and she's the boss. It doesn't matter which one of you comes, the father, the brother, the lover; he's off the menu."

It shouldn't have surprised Dean that they had tried to deal to save Sam. Dean and John had both dealt for him before between their worlds, and Jessica was just as invested. It did surprise him though. Even at his most desperate, he would have known that it would do no good.

"I'm not here for a deal," John said. "I want something else from you."

She frowned and looked at Dean. "You should take better care of your father, Dean. He's…" Her lips parted with shock. "Your eye. How?"

"Saw a doctor," Dean said.

"No, you didn't. How did you do it? I would have heard if there was a deal made, and your guardian angels are cut off from Heaven. Who healed you?"

"No one," John said. "Dean's—"

"Lucky," Dean cut in. "Experimental surgery."

He didn't think it was a good idea for the demon to know he was here from another world. Lilith might come to investigate, and they'd already discussed how dangerous that could be. If she found out what they were doing, she would fight to find a way to stop them. Dean didn't think she could, Crowley hadn't been able to, but he wasn't willing to find out.

John nodded and said, "Castiel, get the cuffs on her."

She backed away and hit the edge of the trap, her eyes wide as she was stopped. Castiel pulled one arm behind her back, slapped on the cuff, then attached it to the other wrist. He grabbed her upper arm and said, "Where shall we do this?"

John pointed to the trees that surrounded the crossroads. "In there will do. There's not going to be anyone around to get in the way or be hurt."

Castiel dragged her into the trees and John followed. Dean picked up the duffel from where he'd left it by the truck and went after them.

When he caught up to them, Castiel had removed a cuff and then reattached it so her hands were bound around a tree. With the cuffs that stopped her escaping her meatsuit, she was trapped.

"Got the knife, Dean?" John asked.

Dean took the demon knife from the duffel and hesitated before handing it over. "We've got salt and holy water, too."

"I know, but she's dead either way," he replied. "We can't let her go back to hell and tell Lilith what we're doing."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

John ignored her. "It's the way it is here, Dean."

Dean knew this world was different. He'd killed dozens of demons in his own world, their meatsuits along with them, but this woman looked sweet and innocent. He felt bad about ending her life.

Ultimately, he had no choice. She had to die. They couldn't risk Lilith finding out what they were doing and interfering. She would not know what the trials were and would be confused only by the fact they were killing a hellhound, but she might come to investigate to find out why. Also, if she came, she would see Dean, both Deans, and they had no idea what she would do then. She had Sam trapped in Hell and could easily take her confusion and frustration out on him.

This demon had to die.

"Okay," he said, handing the knife to John who pressed it to her cheek.

"There's no need for violence," he said. "You can give me what I want and I'll put you out of your misery fast."

She narrowed her red eyes. "You expect me to believe you'll let me off that easy? You're infamous, Winchester. We all know what you learned from Alastair and how you like to use those lessons on us.

"Maybe you're right," John said. "We'll see."

He cut the knife into her cheek and drew it down, leaving a deep wound that looked grotesque on the pretty face.

She screamed, words coming through the expression of pain. "What do you want?"

"A hellhound," John said. "I want you to summon a hellhound."

"What makes you think I can do that?"

John leaned forward, close to her face, and smiled a truly evil smile. "I know you can because I have spent over thirty years studying your kind. I know crossroads demons have a hound on standby that you send when the deals are called in. That's what you're going to do for me. Call it in."

She laughed harshly. "John Winchester is suicidal. Has the knowledge of what's happening to your youngest finally driven you to this?"

"I'm not dying," John said.

"You will if I call my hound. They're obedient when it comes to deals, the rest of the time they're wild and out of our control. You will be destroyed while I watch."

"No, he won't," Castiel said.

"Because you're here?" she asked. "You can't think you can protect him, angel. You're cut off from heaven, have been for years. You're probably barely an angel at all anymore. You can't beat a hellhound."

John lowered the blade to her throat and said, "Call the dog."

"Why would I? You said it yourself, I'm dead anyway. Why would I give you what you want?"

In answer, John plunged the knife into her shoulder and twisted it, making her howl in pain. Before she had even quieted, he withdrew it and did the same again on her other shoulder. She hadn't even time to breathe before he was on her again, the knife at her eye and driving into it and scooping out the eyeball and flicking it off the knife on onto the ground

Dean watched John work and realized what he had overlooked before. This man was different in more ways from his own father that he'd seen before. His father had been a warrior, a dangerous opponent to his enemies, but he hadn't delved into torture like this. Dean could see Alastair's influence in him and knew John had excelled past what even he had in the Pit. Hell had changed him so much, but Sam had kept him from losing himself to it. This John was too far gone to be rescued.

"Please stop," she begged.

"Call the dog," John said again.

"It will kill you," she said.

"It won't," John said. "Call it now and I'll leave you one eye to watch it happen. Refuse me again, and you can just listen."

She panted through the pain, her face and remaining eye agonized and then raised her voice and said in a shout, "Particeps ego beatos vos!"

"That it?" John asked.

"Yes," Castiel said, a frown etched into his brow. "It's coming."

John stepped away from the demon and widened his stance as the howl ripped through the trees towards them. He took the glasses from the pocket of his shirt and put them on.

"Remember, Cas, it's got to be his kill," Dean said, putting on his own glasses.

Castiel nodded. "I will remember. You must, too."

Dean would remember. He didn't want to watch John fight it alone, but he knew he couldn't interfere. The kill had to be solely John's for the trial to be completed.

They all looked to the right as the sound of paws pounding the ground reached them, and then the nightmare was there. The dog was huge, bigger than the one Sam had killed, and Dean wondered if this might be Crowley's own pet, Juliet. She had seemed pretty huge when she was trying to break down the gate to the mausoleum he and Sam had barricaded themselves inside.

The hound looked from face to face as if assessing where to start and then John jabbed out with the blade and said, "Come here, bitch," and it launched itself at him.

John stepped to the side and thrust the knife into the hound's side, but it didn't even seem to feel it. It turned and slashed out with its claw, cutting into John's leg and sending a freshet of blood flowing.

"Cas!" Dean said urgently

"No," John grunted. "Wait."

Dean watched the blood spill down John's leg to the ground and wondered if he had time to wait. It looked bad.

The hound struck again, sweeping John's legs out from under him, and he fell back and hit the ground hard.

Though he knew he couldn't interfere, Dean took an automatic step forward and the hound rushed at him. He saw the long claws coming for him and then a searing pain as they slashed his side. He fell, too, and clutched his hands to the wound as blood gushed from him. His eyes swam and then consciousness returned with a rush of warmth and pain of flesh knitting together as Castiel held a hand over the wound and healed him.

He stood in front of Dean as he tried to get to his feet, his blade raised defensively. Dean looked around Castiel and saw John on the ground with his hand held above its face, his fingers digging into the throat of the hound as it snapped its jaws. It was an old nightmare for Dean, though it had been Sam holding off the hound when he'd seen it in the weeks that followed the first trial, and he shouted, "Do it!" as John brought up the knife and thrust it into the hounds chest and dragged it down to the dog's groin. Blood flowed and splashed down on John, soaking him just as it had Sam, and the hound dropped to the side.

"Heal him, Cas!" Dean ordered, but Castiel was already in motion. He held one hand over John's leg and the other over a slash in his shirt above a raw wound Dean hadn't seen caused in his stomach.

John flinched and grunted and then sat up and looked down at his soaked shirt. "Is that enough blood?" he asked. "Do I need to roll in it or something?"

"It's enough," Dean said. "That's pretty much exactly what Sam did. I guess you're more alike than I thought."

John got to his feet and huffed a laugh. "Then our worlds really aren't that different at all. Me and Sammy were always two sides of the same coin, though he hated to hear it."

Dean smiled. "So did my Sam at first."

John nodded and turned back to the demon that was limp against the tree, her eye wide with shock and lips parted with fast breaths.

"What did you do?" she asked weakly.

John stalked towards her. "I killed a hellhound. Now I'm killing a demon." Before she could say anything, beg or plead, he was driving the knife into her heart. She bucked once and then fell forward as her legs gave way, her hands were cuffed behind her holding her almost upright.

"We need to bury her," Dean said.

"I'll do it," Castiel said. "You have both lost a lot of blood, and that's something I can't replenish. You will need rest."

John stared at him for a moment and then said, "No, I can handle it. I feel fine."

Dean could tell it was a lie as he had to steady himself on a tree as soon as he said it, but he knew enough not to argue. He didn't feel that good himself, he was a little lightheaded, but he knew juice and cookies would mostly take care of that.

It was John that wasn't going to bounce back. He was doing the trials now and Dean knew what that did to a body. Sam had suffered for months, at first secretly. John was going to suffer the same way. All Dean could do was hope that they would be able to move through the trials fast so he wouldn't suffer long, and this world's Sam wouldn't suffer more than he had to.

He wasn't Dean's Sam, he didn't have the same connection to him, but the thought of any version of his brother in Hell was abhorrent. Dean was going to get his strength back and then he was going to find them a reaper.

But before that, he was going to make sure his Sam was okay. He'd gone to Colorado to face demons on a scale they'd probably never seen. He was with Jack so should be okay, but Dean wouldn't be able to settle until they were together again.

So… Trial One is done. This wasn't so much fun to write as we all know what it looks like to kill a Hellhound. I didn't linger on it because I figured it would be boring. Hope it was still worth a read.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx