"I wanna make a deal."

"Oh god, no," Dean whispered, staring at John's determined face. "I'll kick Sam's ass first, and then yours." He knew what his dad was going to make a deal for. Or really, who he was going to make a deal for. The only thing Dean didn't know were the betting chips.

"I'm listening," the Demon said, and Dean glared at it.

"I'll give you the Colt, but you gotta help Dean."

He'd been afraid of that. "No!" Dean shouted. "That Colt's all we've got! You are not trading that thing for me!"

"No deal," the Demon said. John and Sam looked like they'd been double punched, and Dean felt slightly winded himself.

"What do you mean, 'no deal'?" Dean demanded. "It's because of that damn thing that you carved me up like a frickin' turkey!"

John struggled to keep his edge on. "So you don't want the Colt?"

"Oh, it's a good deal, there's no doubt about it, but you still need to sweeten the pot." The sonuvabitch was grinning at John like a cat who'd caught the mouse, and Dean suddenly didn't like where this conversation was going.

John looked hesitant. "With?"

"Oh, I suppose I could accept the Colt..." Dean froze as he waited for the punch line. "...if your soul were attached."

"NO!" Dean howled, staring in horror as his dad looked like he was considering it. The stupid idiot was considering it. "Dad, no! Don't you dare! Please no," he whispered brokenly. Dad, no. Please don't. Please.

Dean turned to Sam, who was shaking his head and mouthing 'no' over and over again. Then he froze, inhaling sharply, and Dean followed his gaze in confusion until he met yellow eyes. The Demon was staring straight at Sam.

"No freakin' way, you yellow-eyed sonuvabitch," Dean snarled, stepping in front of Sam. "I don't care what plans you have for him. You're not getting him. Not now, not ever."

Then the Demon blinked and seemed to refocus on something. It took Dean a minute to realize it was him the Demon was looking at. A moment later, the damn thing smirked at him. Dean stared in shock: the Demon could hear and see him? Their gazes broke as the Demon turned back to John. "Consider it for awhile. I'll be here when you decide. Take the time to say goodbye to your boy."

"He's not deciding anything," Dean snapped. "Since I know you can hear me, you miserable bastard, listen carefully: there isn't going to be a deal with my dad. At all. Go back to hell."

By this point John had left the boiler room, taking the Colt with him. Good.

Silence filled the air for a short time, before the Demon spoke once more. "Come on out, Sammy-boy. I think we need to talk."

Sam bit his lip but stepped out from behind the pipes. "Are you nuts?" Dean asked, glaring at his brother. "You've got no weapon at all. He could snap you in two!"

"It's not nice to eavesdrop, Sammy," the Demon said, tsking as Sam stepped closer. "Very rude behavior."

"It's Sam," Sam said, voice low. He moved forward cautiously, eyes glancing between all three demons in the room. Dean kept his eyes on everyone in the room, but especially on his brother. This entire situation screamed wrong, but Dean really couldn't do anything about it. Being a spirit sucked.

"What would your dad say about your behavior?" the Demon continued, ignoring Sam. "Of course, I'm not sure what he'd think about what you're intending to do, either."

Dean frowned. "Intending to do? He came down to follow Dad." He turned to his brother, not really sure why he was expecting a confirmation when Sam couldn't hear him. Sam looked unhappy but determined, and that was never a good sign. "What's going through that head of yours, Sam?" Dean asked.

"You didn't like the idea of Daddy Dearest sacrificing the Colt and his soul, did you?" the Demon asked. "So what do you want, Sam?" It smiled, grotesque and hideous. "Gotta speak up to make a deal."

"What? No! No deal!" Dean said angrily, glaring at Sam, who still hadn't spoken. Fear was churning inside him, and he stepped right in front of Sam again, holding his right hand out as if to stop the Demon. "No. Deal," he said, clenching his teeth.

Sam took two steps forward, moving straight through Dean. Dean shuddered at the sensation of someone swimming in water, except he felt like the water. It wasn't cool. "Well?" the Demon prompted, raising its eyebrows. "What's it gonna be?"

"Me for Dean's life," Sam said quietly. "Not just my soul; all of me."

Dean's jaw dropped. Sam's entire stance screamed defeat, but he wasn't walking away. He was dead serious. "The entire reason he's here is because of me," Sam said, his eyes shining. He stuck his jaw out and kept going. "You said you've got plans for me. I won't...I won't put my family in danger when it happens."

"I'm not sensing a great deal of hope here, Sam," the Demon said, barely able to contain its grin. "Shame, that. To give up so young...your daddy didn't raise you to be a quitter, but that's why Dean was always his favorite: Dean never gave up on anything. Like hunting."

If anything, Sam's shoulders slumped further, and his face showed more pain and misery. "Leave him alone," Dean managed, still reeling from Sam's quiet words. The worst part was, Sam believed it. He really thought this entire thing was his fault.

Dean suddenly wanted to punch his dad for what he'd said to Sam earlier. If you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened...your brother would be awake right now.

And Sam had taken them to heart.

Dean had never wanted so badly to punch his brother, then hug him. "You're a freakin' idiot, you know that?" Dean choked out, his throat suddenly tight. He'd lost count of how many ass-kickings he owed his brother now; he'd just have to settle for a huge one to cover all the bases.

"Are you going to take the deal or not?" Sam said suddenly, glaring at the Demon. "It's me you want, isn't it? Not my dad?"

"Oh, I want your daddy too," the Demon said, a cocky grin blooming. "But you're right, you're my first concern. Ah Sam, what I've got in store..."

Sam looked faintly nauseous. Dean knew how he felt. "As for the deal..." Dean inhaled sharply. Probably didn't have to, as a spirit, but old habits were hard to break and all that. "I'll think about it," the Demon finished, flashing pearly whites. Dean breathed out harshly, then turned to glare at Sam. He wondered if he could will his brother to get back upstairs, away from the Demon.

If the bastard could hear him, then Dean was going to give it an earful. He wasn't letting his dad make a deal, and he sure as hell was not letting Sammy make a deal. If it meant that Dean had to die, then...then so be it. It was a quiet revelation, but one he accepted as soon as it crossed his mind. He still didn't want to die, but if it meant protecting his family, protecting his little brother, then he'd do it. He'd always known he'd go out saving Sam; he guessed it was now, and not later, that he'd do it.

Whether his mental willing did the trick, or something in Sam's head made him walk towards the door, Dean didn't know. But Sam was indeed heading to the exit, and Dean watched him go until he couldn't see his brother anymore. Then he swiveled in one swift move to the Demon, glare firmly in place. "How's life on the other side treating you, Dean-o?" the Demon said cheerfully. "Think of the insight this'll give your career."

"Too bad my career isn't going past this hospital," Dean said, a contemptible smirk on his face. "And you won't get any of us, especially not Sam."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," the Demon said, walking towards the back of the room. "Your brother makes a good argument and case. He'd have been a great lawyer. Well, that is, if you hadn't come for him that night a year ago."

"I wasn't the one who set his dreams on fire, you sonuvabitch," Dean seethed. It was trying to pull the same trick it had at the cabin: dig to the deep recesses of their beings to pull out the guilt and fear. He couldn't believe he'd listened to it and let it goad him into taking the very obvious bait. John had never picked favorites, and his family did need and want him.

If he needed proof of that, well, today would definitely cinch that.

"Yeah, you're right, that was all me," the Demon said, leaning forward with a grin as if about to impart a secret. "But it was fun."

Dean lunged at the Demon before he could think about it, and the Demon merely laughed and slid away, letting Dean fall and hit the floor. "I think I'll take Sammy up on his offer," the Demon said, sounding thoughtful. Dean glared up into yellow eyes. "His guilt is so sweet to taste..."

"You leave him alone," Dean said, his voice dangerously low. "Or so help me, I'll-"

"Need to be alive to kill me, Dean-o," the Demon said. "And that means that I have to take one of them up on the offer. And, like I said, Sammy drives a hard bargain. Tell you what; I'll let you see each other as you're passing. As you're heading back to the land of the living, I'll pull Sammy through into hell, give you two a second to say goodbye."
"NO!" Dean shouted, surging upwards, but the Demon had vanished. A quick glance around proved that both orderlies were also gone.

Dean didn't waste any more time than that. He made a dash for the door and pushed hard for the stairs, hoping he'd get up to his brother and dad before the Demon took one of them.

Before the Demon took Sam.

He made it to the main floor when he saw it. The ghostly specter he'd seen before was waiting in the middle of the hall, unseen by all the people passing by. For a moment, Dean was frozen to the spot. He remembered the pain he'd felt when it had tried to take him.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward. "You're here for me, aren't you?" he said, stopping in front of it. "Then take me. I'm supposed to be dead, aren't I? Finish the job already; do your Reaper-ing or whatever the hell you need to do. I'm ready to go."

"No you're not," it hissed, and Dean couldn't help the shudder that passed through him. Its voice was like icicles digging into his chest and face, and sounded like a dying snake. Despite the feeling and sound, the voice was actually calm, not angry, which Dean thought it might be. He'd fought with it, after all. It didn't sound pissed.

Which was a good thing, because Dean really didn't want his ride to the other side to be ticked off with him.

Something moved beyond the Reaper, and Dean's attention was diverted just in time to see Sam enter his hospital room. He was out of time. Any minute now, the Demon was going to show up-

"It's not your time," the Reaper said, causing Dean to turn back.

"What?"

"I thought it was," it said, and now it sounded puzzled. "But it's not. You have a purpose in life, and you haven't completed it yet. I cannot take you."

Shit. If Dean didn't die, then Sam was going to get taken by the Demon. He was going to make the deal, and Dean was going to know that Sam had gone to hell because of him-

Wait a minute.

"I'm not supposed to die," Dean said. "I just want to clarify things."

The Reaper nodded, which wasn't an easy feat considering how it was shaped.

"Then put me back," Dean said impatiently. "I've got to get back in my body."

"I cannot do that," the Reaper said, sounding sincerely apologetic, and THAT only heightened Dean's anger.

"What do you mean, you can't do it? What, you can only pull souls out of bodies, but you have no clue how to put 'em back? It can't be all that much more difficult!"

"I know how to do it. It's not supposed to be my task, though. My job is merely to claim souls, not take them."

Dean glanced over at his hospital room anxiously. "I met up with a Reaper before; he had no problem putting life back into a body."

"A body that wasn't as near death as you are," the Reaper hissed softly. "It was also bound by black magic to do the deed. I'm sorry, Dean Winchester. I cannot do what you ask of me."

"Then how am I supposed to live?" Dean yelled, panic truly starting to set in. Any second now, and his baby brother was going to be gone for good.

The Reaper, in response, disappeared. Dean stared in shock, then began to run for the room. There had to be a way back in. Something he hadn't tried before.

Anything.

Sam trudged up the stairs, thinking over everything the Demon had said. It would take him; it wanted him more than it wanted their dad. That was good.

That was what he wanted, right?

No. What he wanted was Dean alive and healthy and making smart-ass remarks and their dad to actually open up for once in his life and tell them what he was doing, let them in.

He didn't think he was going to live long enough to see either. Or be around long enough. If what the yellow-eyed bastard had said was true, then Sam wasn't going to die.

No; there was a fate worse than death waiting for him.

He made his way down the hall and stopped briefly outside of Dean's room. John was inside, seated in a chair beside Dean's bed. The only sounds were the quiet beeps from the cardiac machine.

Slowly he entered the room. John glanced up at him after a moment, and frowned slightly. "Where have you been?" he asked, and if Sam had been up to it, he would've said the tone was accusatory.

He didn't really care right now; the last thing he wanted to remember of his dad was a fight.

"Just walking around," he said truthfully. "I just..." He glanced at Dean, eyes closed and probably never to open again.

Unless the Demon kept its word, and then...Sam closed his own eyes. This was so screwed up, such a mess. One he needed to fix.

"You should stick close," John said, then added after a moment, "Just in case something changes with Dean."

"Or just in case Daddy makes a deal with a demon," a voice said from behind, and Sam whirled around to see the yellow-eyed Demon standing in the corner of the room. The door swung shut to Sam's right, and Sam forced himself to not look.

John stood, strong and solid despite his arm and injuries. "I didn't make the deal; we didn't agree, remember?"

The Demon snapped its fingers. "Oh that's right; we didn't shake on it. We should've, you know. Because then I wouldn't have been tempted by a better offer."

John frowned. "Better...?" The Demon shifted its gaze, staring straight at Sam. Sam clenched his fists.

"Sammy?" John said, and the shock in his tone made Sam turn to him. Sam didn't think he'd ever seen his dad so surprised, but the emotion was quickly replaced with one Sam had seen many times before: anger. "You made a deal?"

"No, we discussed one. Like you did," Sam said, before turning to the Demon. "We didn't shake on it, like you just said."

"No, but I've decided we should," the Demon said, and Sam felt his blood run cold. This was what he'd wanted; this was what he deserved. This would be the thing that would bring Dean back.

The Demon stepped forward, and Sam couldn't help the involuntary step back he took. John moved towards him, but with a single hand the Demon sent him flying back towards Dean's bed. "Oh, don't worry Sammy," the Demon crooned. "It won't hurt...too much. You'll like playing for the other side."

Suddenly the chair John had been sitting in was thrown across the room. Sam jumped even while John tried not to show how startled he was. When Sam looked back at the Demon, it looked amused. What the hell? "Getting the hang of it, are you?" it said, and Sam froze. He'd completely forgotten who was also hanging around the hospital.

Dean.

The curtains began to rustle as a wind picked up in the room. The amused expression faded from the Demon's face. "You'll have to do better than that, Dean," it chided, but there wasn't any humor in its tone.

"Dean?" John said incredulously, glancing around the room. "He's here?"

"He's been here," Sam tried to explain, but a faint voice in the wind, one he knew so well, caught his attention.

Leave him alone!

The Demon smirked and stepped towards Sam. "Sorry Dean; can't do that. Your brother made an offer. I'd be unwise not to take it. You know how business is." John hurried forward again, but was immediately sent flying to be pinned against the wall, wincing when his arm was struck. Sam tried to move to help him, but the Demon was suddenly in his way.

The small table by Dean's bedside came flying through the air. Sam ducked in time, but it clipped the Demon on the shoulder. It didn't look phased; more than anything, it looked pissed. It seemed to be focused on something intently in front of Dean's bed, and Sam couldn't help but turn and look. He couldn't see anything; nothing moved out of the ordinary, no shimmer of air to denote that someone or something was there.

But Sam knew his brother was there. If the flying objects hadn't been a clue, the hardening look on the Demon's face definitely was. "You're no longer a part of this," the Demon finally hissed. "And when you are, boy, it'll be you against your brother. I think I'll enjoy making Sam kill you."

Sam turned, horrified towards the Demon, but the Demon had already reached him. He placed a hand on Sam's head, giving him a callused grin. "Time to go, kiddo," it said.

The next thing Sam knew, he was falling against the wall hard. The room spun alarmingly for a moment, and there was a sudden screeching noise accompanied with shouting, before everything went black.