Thank you so much Jenjoremy for stepping in and beta'ing this for me. You're a star.

Chapter Eleven

A week after Sam's admission that Lucifer was present again, Dean ambled into the kitchen to find Sam at the table with an empty cereal bowl in front of him and a mug of coffee in his hands. He didn't seem to notice Dean entering the room. His attention was all on the depths of his coffee. Dean cleared his throat and waited for Sam to react, but he didn't, at least not at first. There was a moment's pause before he shook his head jerkily, drew in a deep breath and looked at Dean, "Oh, hey." He looked a little guilty, as if he had been doing something illicit rather than kicking the devil out of his mind.

"Hey," Dean said, keeping his tone light and unconcerned, even though what he wanted to be doing was asking Sam if he was okay, if there was anything he needed or wanted. If there was anything Dean could do to make this easier on him.

He crossed to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee then took a seat opposite Sam who was rubbing a hand over his creased brow.

"Headache?"

Sam nodded and dropped his hand. "Not so bad."

Though it was understandable that psychically forcing an archangel out of your head would come with a side effect, Dean still hated that Lucifer could still hurt Sam in any way. It wasn't such a bad tradeoff for keeping Lucifer out though, a little pain as opposed to mental torment.

"Heard anything from Cas?" Dean asked.

Shortly after the Lucifer conversation, Castiel had approached them with the news that he had heard an injured brother reaching out for help on angel radio. Dean had known he wanted to go to him but, perhaps selfishly, he'd wanted to keep Castiel around for Sam—what if he became overwhelmed again? He'd not said that though. He'd just told Castiel to go do what needed to be done and set him up with some cash for the journey.

"No, nothing," Sam replied. "Think we should be worried?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Cas is more than capable of taking care of himself. Besides, the only real threat out there against him is Amara and she's sworn off him."

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line but he didn't comment. Dean knew it was the mention of Amara that had done it. Sam didn't trust her. He didn't know her the same way Dean did. Not wanting to get into a conversation about her, Dean said, "You want to get into season three after I eat?"

They'd been binge watching Game of Thrones for the past few days. Sam was obviously a little bemused by it but he didn't say anything against. While Sam had been gone, Dean had vowed to himself that when he got Sam back, they would just be brothers a while, drinking beer, watching Game of Thrones. He had Sam back now, and he was going to make good on it.

"Actually," Sam said, "I was thinking we could venture out of the bunker for a while."

"Okay," Dean said easily. "Where are we going?"

"Washington," Sam ventured then rushed on. "There's a case on the coast. I think it's vampires. Should be an easy fix." He looked hopeful and Dean felt like an asshole for not getting behind him at once. The problem was Sam wasn't at full capacity. He was good most of the time, but when Satan put in an appearance, Sam zoned out. Anything could happen to him while he did. Dean could and would defend him to his last breath, but years of hunting had proved that it was hard to defend someone when you were pinned against a wall, or being flung through the air and knocked unconscious. And while he was out, Sam would be taking the brunt of it.

"I don't know," he started, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It's a hell of a drive." That was bullshit and they both knew it. Sam knew it.

"We've driven further for less."

"True," Dean said, "but that was before…"

Sam's expression darkened. "Before Lucifer signed up to be my co-pilot you mean?"

Dean didn't answer. He didn't want to lie to his brother, but he didn't want to tell him that was exactly what he was thinking.

"You're right," Sam said, downing the dregs of his coffee and standing. "I'm a liability."

"That's not what I said."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "It's what you were thinking though."

"It's not like that, Sam."

"Then what is it like?" Sam asked, sounding resigned.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Dean said honestly.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You were gone two months, Sam," Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady and factual. "For two months I only had nightmares to tell me what was happening to you. I had no idea how much of you I was going to get back. You were so damaged after the first time." He lost the ability to be factual and his voice became impassioned. "You were gone, Sam, and all I had were nightmares. I don't want you to be hurt again."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Dean said automatically.

"I have. I was the one who landed myself in that cage. I went ahead without you and—"

"You called me. I didn't answer."

"And that might have made a difference. I don't think so though. I was so hopped up on the belief that it was God speaking to me, that he'd chosen me. That, for once, I was going to be able to do some real good. I was arrogant and stupid and I should have listened."

Dean sighed. Sam was right about some parts of it, but the crap about doing some 'real good' for once made him mad. After everything he'd done—he'd gone to Hell for the sake of the world dammit! Why didn't he see the good like Dean did?

"Sam, you've done a lot of good," he started, but Sam shook his head.

"That's not the point anyway. Lucifer is. And Hunting. Lucifer is with me for the long haul now. I know that and so do you. I am going to have to get back to work at some point, why not now?"

Dean knew it already, but he had another idea. Sam could stop. Draw the curtain on the hunting life and become a Man of Letters. They could both do that. They'd still be helping people; they'd be assets for other hunters. They would have to stop eventually anyway so, like Sam had said, why not now?

Maybe because the idea felt so wrong on so many levels. He was a hunter. That was all he was good at. Only for Sam could he give it up.

"We could stop," he said quietly.

"Stop?" Sam said disbelievingly.

"Yeah, hang it up. Settle here and work on lore and researching for other hunters. We could really…" He trailed off as Sam turned away, his shoulders stiff. "Sam? Is it him? Is he back?"

Sam drew a deep breath and turned back to Dean. His eyes were red. "I can't stop," he said. "I have to hunt, Dean."

"Why?" he asked without heat. "Why does it matter so much?"

Sam opened his mouth then snapped it shut. "It just does. Look, Dean, I'm not asking you to take this hunt with me. It'd be safer for you if you didn't, in fact."

"Forget that," Dean said firmly.

"But I'm taking it," Sam went on without pause.

"No, we're taking it." He forced a smile "I'm not letting you have all the fun. I'll grab a coffee and then we'll head out."

Sam smiled tentatively. "Okay. Thanks, Dean."

Dean waved away his thanks. For all his easy words, he wasn't happy about this. He didn't want Sam getting hurt, but he thought perhaps he would hurt him more by trying to stop him hunting at all. Whatever the reason Sam needed to keep going, it was something big. It mattered to him.

Sam was woken by a hand on his shoulder and a voice calling his name. He snapped into wakefulness, jerking away from the touch and bumping his shoulder hard against the door.

"Whoa, easy," Dean said, drawing himself back against his own door.

Sam immediately felt ashamed of his overreaction. He had been dreaming of the cage again, and Dean had just touched him at exactly the wrong moment. Now he was awake, he was grateful even, as it saved him from the horror of the dream.

"Sorry," he muttered.

He looked out of the window and saw they were in the parking lot of a motel called the Pacific Inn.

"Welcome to Bumfuck, Washington," Dean said in a falsely bright voice. "Population: who gives a crap."

Sam obliged his attempt at lightening the mood by laughing. "That what it said in the brochure?"

Dean grinned. "Nah, I read the sign on the way into town."

They both climbed out of the car and looked across the roof at each other. "Checking in or hauling gear?" Dean asked.

"I'll haul," Sam said. He wasn't entirely sure the shadows of his nightmare were out of his eyes yet, and he didn't want to deal with the curious looks and assessment of a stranger.

Dean nodded and whistled as he ambled into the motel office.

Sam was more appreciative of Dean's pretence than he could say. Dean was obviously worried about the whole Lucifer thing, and Sam knew he wasn't fully on board with hunting, but he wasn't making a big deal about it. He was giving Sam what he needed: silent support and normalcy.

He popped the trunk and took out their duffels and an extra bag of weapons that clanked suspiciously; thankfully he was alone in the lot. They hadn't gone after a vampire recently, and though they kept their weapons cared for, they would both want to sharpen their machetes before they went on the hunt. It was as much a part of the process as the kill itself.

Dean came out, tossing a key from hand to hand with a wide smile in place. "Jessica says she's given us the best room," he said brightly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Jessica?"

"Front desk. Brunette. Beautiful. Chatty. Gets off work in a couple hours. Interested."

"That's nice for you," Sam said with a smile.

"In you," he said pointedly. "Her exact words were, 'Wow, who's the man mountain?'."

"Dean, did you set me up with the desk clerk?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "That would be creepy and gross. I just set the table for you. Told her you were single and in town to solve crime. She liked that part."

"And that's not creepy and gross?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "You don't have to go for it. I just thought you might want a distraction."

Sam shook his head slowly. It was creepy that Dean was setting him up with random women, but he could see the motivation behind it, and it was born of a place of concern rather than teasing as it once would have been. Sam appreciated it.

"No thanks, man," he said. "I'm good."

Dean shrugged. "That's cool."

Sam shouldered two of the duffels, carrying the other in his free hand, and followed Dean along the units to a door at the end of the block. Dean opened it and gestured Sam in with flourish.

For the 'best room' it was impressively normal. It looked clean though, and the beds were a good size. There was a small kitchenette with a coffee maker on the counter that they would both appreciate.

He dropped Dean's duffel down on the first bed and the weapons and his own bag on the second then pulled his laptop from his bag and set it up on the table.

"You want to start now?" Dean asked, his bright mood seeming to vanish on the spot.

Sam shrugged. "We've got to start sometime."

"Yeah, but we just drove ten hours, it's late, I'm hungry, and last night's motel came with non-optional nightclub next door. We're both wiped. How about we make a start tomorrow?"

He made a good point, but Sam wanted to be distracted—and not by Jessica. "I'll cut you a deal," he said. "You go out and get us food while I search up some stuff online and when you get back, we'll call it a night."

Dean considered for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. What do you want?"

"The usual," Sam said, knowing that Dean would understand he meant whatever remotely healthy fare he could find.

"On it," Dean said.

As the door closed behind him, Sam started his search through the local news archive.

There had been another death since he'd last read the reports—this time a deputy in the town's small PD. The article was long, but there was little information to be found. It was more about the man's virtues and the fact he'd been on duty when he'd died.

Sam was about to get to work hacking the PD files to see if they had any more information when he heard the sickeningly familiar voice whispering to him. "Done a lot of good, have you? Does Dean have amnesia or is he still fixing on you taking me down like it's a good thing?"

Sam closed his eyes and prepared to shove him out, but then Lucifer spoke again.

"And you… 'I have to hunt'." He laughed his cold laugh. "Do you realize how damn stupid you sound? Do you really believe you can make up for all the bad you've done by killing a couple vampires? Face it, Sam, you're a failure and always will be."

But that wasn't it. Sam didn't need to hunt to make up for his failings, at least not only for that. He had his own reasons to keep going.

"Yes, you do, and I know what they are…" Lucifer crooned.

Sam had heard enough. He shoved Lucifer out with all the strength he possessed, feeling the spike of pain in his temple as he did. Lucifer disappeared, the room rushed back at him, and Sam felt his own pulse pounding in his ears.

He pushed the laptop away and rested his cheek against the cool wood of the table. He would allow himself a minute to feel the pain and then he would get his back under it and get on with the job, because he had to. He wasn't going to let Lucifer win.

The mood in the PD office was somber when Sam and Dean arrived there the next morning. They were ushered into the Chief's office and gestured to chairs. The chief was dark haired with a trimmed moustache and intelligent eyes.

Sam and Dean showed him their FBI badges and he examined them carefully enough to make Dean nervous. He didn't comment on them—or out them as fakes—though. He just leaned forward in his chair and said seriously, "You're here about our exsanguination kills, right?"

"Yes," Sam said. "What can you tell us?"

"There have been five attacks now. The last was my Deputy, Mark Mayhew." He shook his head. "He went on a call about a disturbance in town and never came back."

"And he was found by a hiker?"

"Yesterday morning, yeah. Just like the other bodies, there were four wounds and he was drained of all blood, but there was no blood at the scene." He sighed. "I don't know what to make of it. I've seen every kind of animal attack possible in the state, and there's never been anything like this."

"No," Sam said. "Neither have we."

"What's the fed interest?" he asked. "Sounds a little low speed for you fellas."

"A fellow law keeper dies, we all hurt," Dean said seriously. "We're all on the same side, after all."

The chief looked pleased, at least as much as he could with the lines of grief etched into his brow. "Well, I sure hope you fellas can put a stop to it."

"One more question," Sam said. "What can you tell us about the disturbance the deputy was attending?"

Color flushed the man's cheeks. "It was those damned Stewart kids." Seeing their blank looks, he went on. "This group of four kids moved into the area a few weeks ago. They've been nothing but trouble. Causing riots in the bars every night and roaring up and down the highways in the early hours."

"Their last name is Stewart?" Dean asked.

"No, they've taken up in the old Stewart place on the town border. It's an old house in the forest. I'd throw them out for trespassing, but no one seems to know who the house really belongs to anymore. I've done what I can to make things uncomfortable here for them in hopes that they'll move on, but so far they're not budging."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and exchanged a glance with Dean who shook his head. He had nothing else to ask. "Okay. Well, thank you for your assistance. We'll report back with any news."

"I'd appreciate that."

They stood and shook the man's hand before turning and leaving the office. When they got out to the car, Dean stopped and looked at Sam. "Stewart place?" he asked.

"Raising hell at night," Sam said pointedly. "They're worth a look at least. Check them out, see if they've got fangs, and work it from there."

Dean nodded his agreement. "Sounds good to me."

Though they would have preferred to go into the hunt during the day when the sunlight gave then the slightest advantage, they needed to stock up on dead man's blood, and they needed darkness to break into the morgue. So it was almost three-am when they finally set out, freshly sharpened machetes in hand, to the address for the Stewart place that Dean had charmed out of Jessica in the office.

There was a sense of nervous anticipation in the car as they made the drive. Sam seemed eager to be hunting, to be doing good. Dean was just eager to be out there fighting fuglys again. There was always something satisfying about taking on a simple, non-apocalyptic case and saving some lives.

With their human scents and heartbeats, they had no chance of sneaking up on the vampires, so they didn't bother to conceal their arrival. They drove right to the house, pleased to see there were two other cars outside, which Dean hoped meant their targets were home.

"You ready for this?" Dean asked.

"More than ready," Sam said fervently.

They climbed out and rushed at the front door. With two hard kicks, Sam had it open and they were rushing inside. There were two vampires in view as soon as they got in. They were entwined on a ratty couch, well on their way to naked. As Sam and Dean entered, they broke apart and lips curled back into snarls as their secondary teeth descended.

Dean rushed forward and brought his machete back in a swing to take out the male at the neck. The vampire pulled back just in time for the blade to only skim the back of his neck though, and Dean had to regroup. Two distinct thuds told him that Sam had taken out his target, though Dean couldn't turn to look and check. All his attention was on the vampire rushing at him. Just before it came within swinging distance, Dean kicked up and caught it in the gut. The vampire stumbled back, and Dean used his moment of capitulation to take off his head. It fell to the floor and Dean's eyes immediately roved the room for Sam.

He was standing against the wall, his eyes blank and wide, and his machete hanging loosely at his side. Lucifer was back.

"Kick him out, Sam!" he shouted.

Sam did not, could not, respond, and as Dean started across the room toward him, he heard footsteps rushing down the stairs behind him and a roar of anger. He turned and saw four vampires coming at him.

"Oh, crap," he moaned.

The rushed him and Dean hefted his machete to his shoulder again.

"This'll be fun," he said with a false smile. He'd faced plenty worse odds before, but he was alone then. He had to defend Sam this time, too. All he could do was hope that Sam shoved Lucifer out soon, or things were about to get messy.

They were in the cage, and Sam was pinned against the bars with Lucifer's hand at his throat. He was trying his damndest to fight back, but he couldn't draw a breath and that made it hard to think, even though he knew on some level that it wasn't real.

"This is more like it," Lucifer said, leaning close enough that Sam could feel his cold breath against his neck. "Face time. You've been such a naughty boy, Sammy, pushing me out. You became even more arrogant than you were before."

"Fuck you," Sam rasped.

Lucifer leered at him and Sam shuddered.

"Now, while Dean is busy being a hero, you and I are going to talk. I want to discuss this whole 'hunting' thing. You know it's a risk. It could get you killed, so let's break down the facts. You say you need to hunt, but why?"

Sam refused to answer. He wasn't going to engage.

"I know, of course," Lucifer said. "It's down to little old me, right? You think that if you keep going, living your life the way you always have, you win." He shook his head and leaned close to whisper in Sam's ear. "You can't win, Sam."

"I will!" Sam rasped.

Lucifer's fingers tightened around his throat and Sam desperately tried to draw in an impossible breath.

"And I'll tell you something else," Lucifer started, but then Sam heard it, a shout that was not Lucifer. It was Dean, and his command was simple, "Kick him out, Sam!"

"Oh dear," Lucifer said. "Sounds like big brother's in trouble. What do you think, Sam? Can you save him from the big bad vampire?"

Sam felt a surge of strength. His hand came up and his fingers curled around Lucifer's frigid wrist. He gripped it tightly and pulled it away. It took a massive effort and his head screamed with pain from it, but he was able to force Lucifer's hand back. As soon as he drew a breath, his head cleared and he was able to gather himself enough to break free from the vision of the cage. Lucifer and the bars at his back disappeared and Sam was suddenly in the large room in the house they'd tracked the vampires to.

His eyes found Dean in time to see him swinging his machete through the air and slicing it through the head of a vampire with a roar of anger. The vampire dropped to the floor in two pieces, and Dean turned. Relief flooded his face as he saw Sam stepping away from the wall. "Thank God," he breathed.

Sam took in the room. There were the separated pieces of six vampires on the floor. Five of which must have been Dean's kills.

"Five!" Sam gasped.

Dean nodded proudly. "Sammy, your big brother is awesome."

Sam nodded and then fell back as pain seared through his head. His shoulders hit the wall and he slid down it. He could hear Dean calling to him, and then there were hands on his shoulder and cheek, but he couldn't respond. The pain blotted out everything else. He clenched his teeth shut to keep him from crying out.

It seemed to last forever, but eventually the pain lessened to a bearable level and Sam was able to take in what was happening around him.

"Sam! Talk to me, dammit!" Dean commanded.

"I'm okay," Sam said, and he was unsurprised that his voice was a whisper. Though he hadn't been aware of it, at some point in the agony, he had curled his fists in Dean's shirt. He released it now, and patted Dean's hand where it lay on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked.

"Headache," Sam said, his voice a little stronger now as the pain faded. "World's worst headache."

"Damn," Dean breathed, leaning back on his haunches and releasing Sam. "It's never been like that before, has it?"

"No, but it took a lot to get him out this time," Sam explained.

"A helluva lot."

Sam nodded and looked around at the bodies that littered the room. He drew in a sharp breath. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean shook his head. "It's cool. Like I said, I'm awesome."

Sam forced a smile, and took proffered Dean's hand as he helped him to his feet. "Let's get out of here though."

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala and handed them to Sam. "You go rest in the car. I'll start the fire and we can get out of here."

Sam didn't have the energy to argue. He made sure to keep his gait steady as he made for the door. As he pulled it open, he heard laughter and a smug voice whispered. "I win."

"So, what happened?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed heavily, a defeated sound. "Lucifer got in."

"I guess that much. Why couldn't you shove him out?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Not really. I mean, in what I was seeing, I was in the cage and he had his hand round my throat, but that shouldn't have stopped me. Maybe I was just too weak."

Dean bumped his shoulder with a fist. "Not weak, Sam. You've been through plenty worse, and you've never been weak. Something else happened; we just need to work out what so it doesn't happen again."

They were parked at a rest stop a couple miles outside Portland, leaning against the hood of the car and looking out over a lake. Sam's eyes were squinted against the sunlight, and he seemed transfixed by a boat bobbing out in the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful. "I think maybe he could always do it, hold me in like that, but he kept it for the right moment. It would have been no fun just dragging me in at the bunker when nothing was happening. He picked the perfect moment to have the most impact."

It had definitely had an impact. It had been terrifying for Dean to be facing off those vampires and knowing that it they took him out, Sam was defenseless with Lucifer chatting away to him.

"Asshole," Dean hissed.

Sam laughed harshly. "It's Satan, Dean. Of course he's being an asshole. He owes me."

"Why are you saying that like you did something wrong?" When Sam remained silent, he turned his whole body to face him. "Sam! You saved the damn world doing what you did. You won. You screwed him over because the bastard deserved it."

"I'm not arguing. I'm just saying, from Lucifer's twisted point of view, this is probably justice. Taking this from me, he wins."

"Taking what?" Dean asked, though in his heart he already knew the answer.

"Hunting," Sam said patiently. "He had me trapped at the exact wrong moment. You could have been killed."

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"But you might not have been. That could have ended a whole different way. I could have got you hurt."

It was the truth and Dean knew it, though he did not want to admit it, even to himself.

"I can't hunt anymore," Sam said, his tone steeped with sadness. "I've got to stop."

"Sam…"

"No. It's how it's got to be. I've got to stop. Become a Man of Letters, like you said." He nodded. "It'll be okay. I'll be okay."

Dean saw the sacrifice in his eyes. Sam hated this, was afraid of it even. It made Dean angry. As if Lucifer hadn't already taken and done enough to Sam, he was taking his whole way of life from him now. For now. Dean had said he'd work out a way to block Lucifer, and he would. He would not let him win.

So… Dean is badass and Lucifer has terrible timing. Good times to write, not so good for Sam and Dean.

Thank you all for your patience for this chapter. I was poorly and the story refused to cooperate. It's coming back to me now though, so I shouldn't leave you hanging again so long.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx