A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading. MaraDixon413: Thanks for your review! Glad that you're enjoying. CatstielWinchespurr: Yes, poor Dean. But then, we all knew he would have to find out at some point. Dean wouldn't care about multiple apocalypses, the thing that that would hit him (As a time travel plot this is unfortunately important) are the deaths. CarverEdlundtheLast: I'm sorry. No, not really. *Evil Author Laugh* Let the feels continue! You're right though, Bobby's death is about the most heartbreaking thing that has ever happened in this show. Just warning you now… the feels will get worse, this is just the beginning. I recommend a shock blanket.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.


Chapter 30: I Dream of Lucy


"What the hell, man!"

Castiel slammed the demon up against a wall with his grace, sliding his blade down into his hand and approaching the thing, "Guess again."

Its eyes widened and it started to struggle as Castiel stepped into the light, "Wh- What ARE you?

"It doesn't matter. Where are the children? What have you done with them?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The angel stepped a little closer, letting his eyes linger on it for a moment before thrusting his blade into its leg. "Wrong. Answer," he snarled. Castiel ripped the weapon free, pausing as the demon wailed in pain before continuing. "I'll ask again. Where. Are. They?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"You do know. You must know."

"I don't"

He stared at the abomination, finally deciding he believed it, "Then you are no use to me." He reached up, frustrated at the difficulty caused by his vessel's diminutive size, and put his hand on the thing's head, smiting it until it fell down, dead. He then walked away, wiping his hand on his jacket in disgust. That was the fifth one. He had wasted a great deal of time. The mistake must not be repeated.


Sammy rubbed at his eyes with his hands and yawned. He was so tired. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He stared at the toys in front of him. Huh. That was strange. Why was the room spinning? Why was he seeing double? Oh, he was so tired. Sleep was all he could think of anymore. Maybe just a few minutes… NO! He forced his eyes open. No sleep. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't…

Sammy found himself cowering naked in the corner of a large room. Looking about, he saw it was empty, with the exception of himself and an ornate chair, in which sat perhaps the oddest creature he had ever seen. It was like a man, with blond hair and a bit of stubble, slightly shorter than Sam was at the moment. However a pair of massive pure white wings fell lazily from his shoulders into the chair to either side of him, the enormous appendages sweeping the floor. He smiled in a way that made Sam shiver, "Well, Sammy, what do you want to do? After all, we always have such a nice time together."

Sam stared at him, not saying anything. In the scene, memory, whatever this was, Sam didn't even know what was going on anymore, he must have made a response of some sort, because the man shook his head, making a disappointed clicking sound with his mouth, "So rude. And here I was thinking we were friends. Really Sam, I'm hurt." He stood, "Well, anyway, to repeat the question, what shall we do? There are a lot of options." He started counting off on his fingers, "Let's see, there's… torture, messing with your head, happy memories with a twist at the end, um… torture, loved ones making you miserable, letting you think you're out then dragging you back, that's always fun… oh yes, aaaand torture. Thoughts?"

Sam's eyes widened in horror.


I'm telling you I heard something!" John was half-yelling at this point. It was dark and he was getting really nervous.

Bobby grunted, "Never said you didn't. We do know there's something out there, after all."

John stared at him, fuming. Why did Bobby have to be so annoying? He wished the man would disagree with him. Hell, agree with him and spring into action, something. John just wished he wouldn't sit there with that vaguely condescending expression that invariably meant he thought you were wrong but wasn't going to address it. That was annoying as hell, and it always gave John a strong urge to punch the man in the face.

"Well, shouldn't we get some salt or something? Put a line around the camp?"

Bobby stared at him as if he was insane, "Salt? For pagan gods and witches? The hell you been smoking, John?"

John paced, running a hand through his hair, "I just- I don't like sitting here not DOING anything."

"I know. But look, we don't know what to be ready for. Let's just sit down and think about this."

John paused, "I need a beer." He stood up and walked toward the cars, mentally ranting at the man behind him. He froze as he heard a voice behind him.

"John."

He turned in confusion. How… No. It couldn't be… That voice… He had to be hearing things. But then again, maybe… "Mary?"

"Hello, John."

His head turned wildly as he walked, desperately attempting to locate the source of the voice, "MARY!"

Bobby gave him an odd look, "Your wife Mary?" He paused. "You okay?"

"Shut up. I heard her. MARY!"

Bobby stood, sidling over to talk over John's shoulder, "You know, these woods, they can do things to people…"

John whirled to face him, "I am NOT going crazy, Bobby. I know what I heard. Now, Mary's out there, alone. She needs my help." He turned back toward the woods, struggling to escape Bobby's grasp, "MARY!"

Bobby grabbed him as he started to leave, shaking him a little as if to ground him, "Listen to me, you stubborn bastard! Think about this rationally. How could she be here? Seeing as she wasn't killed or buried here it ain't likely. And even if she is… how many ghosts you met want to help folks?"

That was enouph. John whirled, planting a solid punch to Bobby's nose. In a somewhat calmer voice he added, "Don't talk about her like that."

Bobby shook his head, hand up to the hurt place, "Please, just, we don't even know what's going on."

John paused, then cursed, kicking the dirt and walking towards the cars, muttering expletives. Bobby spoke, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get the goddamn salt! Where the hell do you think I'm going?" He yelled.

Bobby smiled despite himself.


The man from the motel suddenly appeared between Sam and the stranger. Except now he too had wings, these a light grey. His voice was deep and challenging, "You will not touch him again."

The white-winged man tilted his head, "Michael? What are you doing? Are you so disappointed at the loss of your own little boy toy you want mine? Well, go ahead. I don't mind sharing."

Michael did not move, "No, Lucifer."

'Lucifer' shrugged, "Then what do you care? It's just a human after all."

"He may be 'just a human,' but he is our Father's creation, and as such I shall protect him."

Lucifer smiled, "Need I remind you, this human is the reason we are trapped in Hell."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Because it is what God would want."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand. This God who abandoned you?"

"Yes."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, "Why? What allegiance do you owe him?"

"The allegiance of a good son."

Lucifer scoffed, "You're a fool, Michael."

"Perhaps. But if you lay a finger on him, it will be the last thing you ever do."

Lucifer smiled thinly, "Brave words. Are you truly prepared to kill me? For this… cockroach?"

"Yes. Be that as it may, I have no wish to fight you, brother. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. Leave the human alone."

Lucifer chuckled, "Following in Daddy's footsteps. No."

"Then I am sorry." Michael rushed at him, a hand held out to use his grace as a weapon. The other being smiled slightly, then raised a hand and twitched a couple of fingers. Michael flipped and skidded across the floor, landing on his back with his wings outstretched, the wind knocked out of him. Lucifer casually walked over, setting his foot on a joint of one wing and grinding down, causing Michael to groan in pain.

"You thought you could beat me? Here?"

Michael looked pleading, "Lucifer-"

That creature smiled, "You're on my turf now. I make the rules. Grace works differently here. But then you wouldn't know that."

"Please, just…aah" The uninjured wing beat slightly in pained protest, ruffling the other's blond hair.

"I've had millennia to practice. I know every quirk of this disgusting cell."

"Brother-"

"I am king here. Don't you forget that. No matter what you do, no matter how you try, it will be centuries before you can even hope to compete with me."

"Lucifer. Please. You don't have to torture him. There's another way. A better way. We can live together, in peace." He paused, voice breaking, "As a family."

The other didn't respond, instead saying, "You don't want the man hurt? You want to take his place?"

Michael stared up at him, a heartbroken look on his face, "Yes." He said finally.

Lucifer appeared enraged by this, "Look at you, pathetically helping this monstrosity! This is why I rebelled. We should be exalted! The greatest creations our Father ever made, and he tells us to bow to them! To a beast with a soul, twisted and mangled, prone to decadence and cruelty!"

"You should lie where I lie, Lucifer. Perhaps your vision would be clearer. It was not humans that cast the world into its death throws for convenience's sake. It was us." He paused, catching his breath, "It is not a human who now holds his foot to my wing."

Lucifer seemingly ignored him, "Look at what humanity has done to you. One of their number casts you into Hell, and still you crawl to him like a worm, begging him for the privilege of sacrificing yourself. It's disgusting! Pathetic! You were once a warrior, God has changed you to a dog!"

Michael reached up a hand, grasping Lucifer's leg, "Then what are you waiting for, Lucifer?! Just have me already!"

The thing looked almost apologetic, his voice calming, "I don't want to harm you, Michael. Are you certain this is what you want?"

"Just… Just do it."

"Fine." He reached a hand down to grasp the outer part of the wing he was standing on, suddenly pulling it up with a sharp snap. Michael moaned and clenched his teeth, obviously in horrible agony but managing to bear it. Lucifer laughed and continued to move the broken limb, grinding the pieces together and causing even more pain as he bent down to speak into Michael's ear, "You see brother, that's why I don't want you. You're boring. You're too good a soldier to scream. It's no fun if they don't scream."

"l'll-I'll scream if you want me to." He gasped and whimpered involuntarily as Lucifer gave the wing a particularly painful twist.

"That's not the point. You can't. Not really. You just don't have it in you. The human on the other hand…"

The injured being had tears on his face, though whether of pain or sorrow Sam was unsure, "Lu-Lucifer, p-please… this isn't you."

"Sorry to bust your bubble, Mikey, but this is all me." He stood and walked toward Sam, snapping his fingers to erect a cage around Michael.

"So, Sammy, where were we?"


"Hey!" Dean looked up, responding to a nudge at his shoulder. His older self set a plate and a glass of water on the table, "Eat." He paused, then spoke again as the six-year-old looked at him quizzically, "Come on, I know what you've been eating. Spagettios and chips ain't gonna cut it. Nutrition, here."

Sam smiled at them over the top of his… whatever the hell that was, "Hey, Dean, what are you trying to do?"

The man sat down, grabbing a bottle off the counter and opening it on the edge of the table, "Just looking out for myself, Sammy. He's never gonna grow if he keeps eating like that."

Sam chuckled, "Pot, kettle, black, much?"

"Shut up." He turned his attention back to little Dean, "So, uh, how's the incredible boy wonder?"

Dean was confused, "What?"

"Uh, Sammy. Little Guy. Don't see him."

"Oh, he's in our room. He was sleeping, I didn't want to disturb him."

The blond man nodded, "Good call. Yeah, I remember he didn't do nearly enouph of that. Used to drive us nuts."

Sam looked from one Dean to the other, "Sorry, am I missing something?"

A smile ghosted over older Dean's lips and he took a swig from his bottle, "Just, uh, you were really active. Hell, I barely got any sleep. Every time I tried you were right there, wanting to play chase or something. 'Course," He leaned toward the child conspiratorially, "He isn't much better now. Get him on a case, or one of his other nerd things," he shook his head, "You're doomed for the duration."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" Little Dean laughed. He liked them. If this was where he and Sam ended up… he could live with that. They were together, with a house – no, a mansion, getting along, and they seemed happy. There were worse endings. Even if they were hunting. Even if Dad was dead. His smile faded at that thought, and he decided to distract himself, "Hey, Sammy. What's that thing?"

Sam seemed confused for a second, then pointed at the thing in front of him. "What, this? Oh, um, this is a laptop. Guess you don't really have these where you're from. Here, I'll show you. Come here." Following his directions, Dean climbed in his lap, staring in amazement at the strange device as Sam demonstrated its use. They all three sat, talking and laughing, enjoying the pleasant day.


Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Sammy suddenly found himself on a table, his wrists and ankles chained down. Michael had dragged himself up somewhat on the bars and Sam could hear his yells as Lucifer walked over to the table to stare down at him, "Lucifer, listen to me! You don't have to do this. This isn't his fault. Think about it. These humans did not stop us on their own. The angel Castiel was brought back to life in their service. They were removed from the scene when you were released. There have been other signs too. Don't you understand? God did not want us to succeed. We were blind, too wrapped up in ourselves to see His will but He made it plain. The time has not yet come for Paradise. Lucifer, please, I know you. You're better than this. Don't-"

Lucifer stepped away from the table, rolling his eyes, "On and on and ON. Why can't he just SHUT UP? No matter." A movement of his fingers and Michael was silenced. Sam could see his lips moving but he couldn't hear any sound from them. Lucifer smiled, "Yes, that's much better. Now," He sat back down in his chair, leaning forward excitedly as though giving the best news in the world, "I've decided on an activity. I think torture with an emotional twist might be best for this evening, don't you? Well, it's not really evening but…" He sighed, "Anyway, recognize someone?" Sam turned his head, struggling at his bonds and his eyes widening in horror at the sight that greeted him.

An instrument table sat nearby, filled with sharp, miserable-looking objects. A man stood beside it, his face hard and pain-filled, but with a malicious, sadistic smile that made Sam shiver.

"Hello Sammy," said Dean.