Disclaimer: Really need a reminder? Okay then. I don't own them.

Warning: Naughty words. Usual, you know.

Author's Note: Hate to do this to you again, but there won't be a post after tonight for another two nights, considering I'm working late both tomorrow and the next day. I know, real life sucks huh. But money is money and money is needed. Go figure.

Chapter 19: Preparation

The man stared at him, obviously refusing to give into the fright that was just as obviously tearing through his gut.

"Who the hell are you?" the man spat. Then suddenly his eyes widened. "I know you!"

Dean grinned, not letting it touch his eyes. "So glad. Don't need to introduce myself as the guy who's going to kill oh so slowly."

Landly's eyes widened. "Look, Winchester, you have no idea who you're fucking with here," the man growled threateningly. Dean gave a short laugh.

"See, that's what I was going to say." He took a step closer to the bed and pulled back his jacket, revealing the knife. He shook off any amusement in his eyes until they became deadly serious. "You have no idea who you're fucking with."

He took another step closer and drew the knife, running it slowly out of the sheath. "You hurt my brother, Landly," he warned the man, feeling his blood boil as the man gave a snarl.

"The little shit should have told us what he knew!" the man defended. "All he had to do was tell us -."

He cut off into a small yelp as Dean sprung forwards, bringing the knife to a quick halt beside his neck, laying the edge so still against the soft skin of the neck. This close Dean could almost smell the fear rolling off the man, could feel his pulse pounding away under his hold on the man's shirt. Could hear Landly swallow as he saw death made human in the icy eyes staring down mercilessly on him.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat from ear to ear, right here, right now," he whispered menacingly in the guy's ear. Landly made a soft sound of fear, sending a thrill of disgust coursing through Dean. He never wanted to do this again.

"Mahone was the one telling me… I didn't want to…" Landly trailed off, the defence sounding far too weak to even his own ears. Dean snorted.

"Poor excuse, Landly," Dean spat. "I know you enjoyed every fucking second, every finger you laid on every one you have ever hurt! Admit it, you sadistic son of a bitch!"

He needed only the slight stir in the man's eyes to know he spoke the truth. Giving a low growl, Dean drew back the knife.

"Please don't kill me!" Landly suddenly begged, eyes on the knife. Dean cocked an eyebrow, and smirked.

"Why not?" he asked. "You tortured my brother…" And at that thought, the smirk dropped and incredible anger filled him, filled his eyes, forcing Landly back with the hatred. "You hurt him. Would you have stopped, if he had asked? Would you have stopped hitting him if he had begged for the pain to stop? What about now? Huh! Does he deserve to die because you fucked up bastards…"

The fear reached a climax in the man's eyes until they were shining brightly. "Please…" Landly whispered, terrified by the sight of those ruthless, uncaring orbs staring madly down at him.

Dean didn't listen, just let his disgust flare in his eyes, knowing the man would take it as yet more anger, as loathing.

Giving a hard grunt he shoved his arm forward, knife aimed for Landly's throat. The man cried out, almost shrieking, cutting off as the knife sliced his neck…

Dean paused, feeling the anger dissipating slightly. The man was pathetic, eyes closed, breathing hard, tears leaking.

He tapped the man on the cheek with the knife, ignoring the thin red line growing on Landly's neck where the knife had just scraped him.

"Open up," Dean ordered, still tapping the blade against the pale cheek. He sniffed, then groaned, ignoring the growing puddle on the bed, concentrating only on Landly's sagging relief.

He didn't let go of the man, knowing he was the only thing holding Landly up. The man's eyes opened, staring down at the blade a hair's width from killing him. And then he looked up at Dean.

"Why didn't you kill me?" he asked, dumbstruck. Dean stared harder.

"I need answers," he told Mahone's right-hand man. He seemed a bare shell now, emptied and changed by an attack so terrifying. Dean knew it was less than he deserved, but at least he knew now how everyone he had ever hurt felt.

Landly's eyes widened. "Answers?" he asked with a swallow. Dean nodded.

"I need answers," he repeated. "And you're the only one who can give them to me."

Landly nodded, some fight coming back to his eyes. Dean sneered, shoving him away. He had to be rid of that.

"It's the only reason you're still alive. But be careful, Landly. I don't like what you tell me…"

He let the threat hang in the air, but Landly felt the added pressure. Terror coming back to his eyes, he nodded.

"What do you need to know?"

The room was so quiet except for the whoosh of the ventilator. Seeing Sam on it was hard, hard to watch his strong baby brother clinging to life. Hard to see him so little, so hurt.

Dean leaned back in the chair, silent, just watching. He had felt a need to cleanse himself after being with Landly. The man lived on causing pain, and Dean knew that he deserved everything that he got. And then some. But causing it, almost becoming that man himself… he never wanted to go down that road again.

"This is going to work," he told Sam suddenly, speaking up in a whisper. "It has to. I don't know what'll happen if you're not there." I don't know what I'll become.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Dean shifted on his seat as it opened. He didn't turn around, just knew from the quiet way she entered that it was Anya.

"I didn't think the nurses would let you in," he told her in a low voice.

She came around to stand on the other side of Sam's bed. "They didn't," she admitted. "I was worried about you, when we found you gone from Landly's room. We knew you'd either be here or in the waiting room. Ash's gone to check there."

Dean nodded, resting his chin on his hand, elbow on the arm of the chair. He didn't say anything, just waited for her.

"Did he tell you?" she asked after a moment. Dean could tell she was struggling with the sight of Sam, struggling to stop her eyes roving over his little brother.

"He told me everything, more than we needed to know. The demon was going to take you two tonight, some construction site on the edge of the city. I was going to come down… I just had to see Sam."

Anya nodded, uncomfortable. "Fair enough. Any more news?"

He shook his head. "I haven't spoken to Ellis again. I didn't really want to."

She nodded again, eyes down on Sam once more. Dean shifted in his seat, annoyed. He didn't need this. He didn't need her reminding him just how broken his little brother was.

"Look, could you give me a few minutes?" he asked her, his voice telling her that it was no question. "I'll be down in the waiting room in soon."

She nodded once more, before biting her lip. "You know, it's okay," she told him. He glared up at her.

"What the fuck is okay?" he demanded harshly. "Some demon messed with my little brother so he can't heal from being tortured, and now he's lying in a hospital bed, dying! How the hell is that okay?"

She blanched, shaking her head. "That's not what I meant, Dean," she said, voice a little high. "I meant, you're trying so hard to be strong… you don't have to do that twenty-four-seven. I know how freaked you are."

Dean gave a short, bitter laugh. "You have no idea, Anya. And until you do, shut your mouth."

He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but the words came out nonetheless. She paled a bit, eyes sparking with anger, and she moved to the door, before stopping at the foot of Sam's bed.

"I may not know the exact feeling, Dean, but I've been picturing Ash lying just like this all morning. And I know I'd be breaking down. So don't go getting all pissed at me just because you're not capable of hiding just how scared you are from me."

Dean looked down at Sam. "I already did," he said quietly. She frowned.

"What?"

"I already broke down," he admitted, eyes never leaving Sam. "When I came in here this morning, I just cried. And you know what? Sam would be disgusted. He wouldn't be telling me to be all emotional, to let go of my fear that he's going to die. He'd tell me to get off my ass and do something about it, because anything's better than letting the person you love just die."

He snapped his head up to look at her, and she was wearing a frown, thoughtful and a little guilty. "I may be freaked, Anya. But I'm not going to just break down time and time again to satisfy some chick flick quota. Because sitting here, and sobbing on Sam's bed? That would be admitting he was gone. That there was nothing I could do to help him. And when I did that this morning, I was telling him I was giving up. And I'm never going to do that to him again. So you know what? I'm going to continue hiding just how scared I am, because then at least Sam knows I'm fighting for him."

He stood, shoving the chair back, and left the room, leaving an awed Anya thinking deeply.

He didn't slam the door, but moved down the hall where he could lean against the wall. He could feel that determination running through him. He was right. He could save Sam, stop him from dying. Because that was what he did. That was his job.

He turned towards the waiting room, knowing Anya would meet him down there. He didn't get very far.

"McKinley!"

He recognised the name as his alias, and the voice as Morgan's, and turned to see the cop jogging after him. There was a strange look on his face, partly angry, partly stubborn, with the same set of face Dean knew he himself got when he was about to break the law big time for a hunt.

"You okay?" Dean asked as Morgan approached, slowing down and stopping. "You look a little flushed."

Morgan shook his head. "I'm fine. But look, can we…" He trailed off, looking about to make sure no one was listening. "Can we talk?"

Dean nodded slowly, unsure what the man was getting at. "Sure, what's up?"

"Not here," Morgan answered. "Somewhere private."

Dean made a face. "No. Here's fine. Just keep your voice down." There was something about the guy's voice that he couldn't trust. Some desperation, or something similar.

Morgan looked like he wanted to argue but swallowed what he had been going to say. "Fine. I know you went to see Landly."

Dean glanced about, before lowering his voice a little more. "You don't know shit," he spat a little threateningly.

Morgan put his hands up defensively. "Hey, no need to get aggressive. And I know you went to see him."

"Did that son of a bitch say anything?" the hunter asked in a low growl. The cop actually grinned.

"No," Morgan drawled. "But you made him piss his pants. No one else here's going to make him do that."

Dean paused. Then, "What's it to you?"

Once again Morgan looked about furtively. "I want to help," he told Dean stubbornly.

The hunter reached to his full height, crossing his arms. "Help with what, exactly?" Morgan had to be a complete idiot, to think he would even think about taking a cop along.

"Look, McKinley, I know he told you where Mahone was meeting his boss. And I want to help take that asshole down."

Dean refrained from saying anything about the actual likelihood of 'that asshole' being taken down by the cop, but frowned. "Why would you want that? Do you cops want more credit?

Morgan scowled. "No other cops. Just me. Look, I'll even follow your direction."

Dean nodded. "Okay then. Follow this direction. Let us do our job and stay the hell away."

He turned to leave, but Morgan grabbed his arm. "Don't walk away from me."

The hunter turned and looked down at the hand on his arm. "Let go of me straight away, Morgan. Before I break it."

The cop let go, putting his hands up again. "Okay, okay, wrong move. But you have to let me go with you when you go see him."

"Why the hell do I have to do that?" Dean demanded. "You have no idea what's going on."

He was hoping the cryptic talk would shake Morgan loose, but it didn't. Instead the cop gave him a curious look before sighing.

"Look, Mena… she's my cousin."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Oh," was all he could manage, but Morgan nodded at it.

"Yeah, oh. I thought she was dead, you know. Mahone took her two and a half years ago, because she found out about his little secret. And now she barely recognises me, won't talk, she's scared all the time. I want revenge just like you. And you sure as hell could use some more hands. I'm assuming you're taking Ash and Anya with you. And maybe they're good, but Anya's arm is in a sling. And I'm willing to bet I'd be better than either in a tight spot."

Dean gave him an amused, all-knowing grin. "You're pretty fast to judge people, Morgan. I bet they'd surprise you."

The cop shrugged. "Well, you know them better than I do. But even if they're good, it doesn't mean you don't need someone else along with you."

Dean had to give him that. And he would be controlling the situation. Once the demon revealed itself, he could get Morgan out of the way. Hell, the man would probably run screaming as soon as it did reveal itself.

He sighed. "Fine, you can come." Morgan's face lit up in relief. "Meet us outside the hospital at seven o'clock tonight."

Morgan frowned. "Tonight? But Sam…"

Dean gave him a glare. "Okay, first things first, you're following my lead. And follow it exactly, else you'll get us all killed. Don't go questioning what I say."

Morgan's mouth worked wordlessly until he finally nodded, snapping his jaw shut. "Okay, fine. Seven tonight it is. I'll meet you then."

The cop stalked off, obviously annoyed, but Dean didn't care. He just hoped he had made the right decision. And apparently he wasn't the only one.

"Are you sure about that, Dean?" Anya asked from behind him. He turned, a little surprised that she was there, to face her. "I mean, he's going to freak when we start chanting an exorcism and throwing rock salt. He could decide to shoot us, and not the demon."

Dean shrugged. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides, he's right. An extra person is definitely what we need. And one who the demon's not going to recognise. If I knew any hunters close enough to get here before sunset, I'd ring them. But he'll have to do."

Anya sighed after a moment. "Fine. I guess you're right." She bit her lip, hesitant about speaking further. "And Dean? I'm sorry about what I said in Sam's room. You're right. I never -."

Dean put his hand up, stopping her in her tracks. "What did I say about not filling some chick flick quota, Anya?"

She grinned half-heartedly. "Fine. We should get back to Ash, before he thinks we've killed each other."

There you go, another chapter. See you on the weekend!