Author's Note: Right, I have no idea where this came from. One minute I'm happily borrowing my mam's laptop to answer some questions in several private messages, the next I'm suddenly typing away like crazy. I blame Sam and Crowley for this, I really do.

I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who has pm-ed with words of encouragement during my own horrible Hellatus, which is due to GCSES and a comatose computer. Thank you so much guys for sticking by me with such patience! Please grin and bear it a little longer and hopefully I'll soon have a TONNE of updates for you. Until then, take this as a peace offering. Care of my recent obsession with a certain English demon. ;)

Words in italics are Sam's thoughts at the time. :P

Warning: Me being me, this contains swearing, scenes of violence/torture, and constant bickering between hunters and demons alike (Cas is apparently too polite to argue. :P) If offended by any of the aforementioned, then stay away. :L

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Supernatural. Not even a teeny knife or weeny gun.

"One Simple Plan"

"So I did the only thing you can do when you are trapped in a corner: I chewed my way through the wall."

~Scott Adams~

Present

Eyes fluttered open, the Darkness still calling at their edges.

There were footsteps. Coming closer. Door creaked open. Footsteps came closer.

They're here.

Sam cursed weakly as light suddenly flooded the previously darkened room. Once his raging head had ceased complaining, he looked around to find that right in front of him stood several men and a woman, all of whom looked furious, but also eager.

Sam didn't want to know what for.

Once again he fought not to throw up as the moving of his head caused acute pain.

"Now, Winchester." The woman, apparent leader of the four stepped in front of him, and jerked his head forward to look at her. Sam bit his lip to stop the cry of pain escaping him. "You're gonna tell us everything. The whole truth."

"And let me guess, nothing but the truth, so help me God?" Sam couldn't help but reply, earning him a slap.

"Boy, I wouldn't joke 'bout this. You've got a rep and it's not a pleasant one." One of the men was talking now. "And you're with a demon, which to us…"

"Proves everything." The woman finished. Her eyes gleamed. "So, I'm tellin' you again to tell us everything, Winchester. Or else we'll treat you like the monster we all know you are."

There was something dark in her voice, and Sam didn't doubt that she would follow through with her threat.

Oh shit. Dean, where are you?

"I'm the monster? You kidnapped me!" He snapped, looking her in the eye.

"Why work with a demon if you're so angelically good?" She retorted, gesturing behind her. "We got your little pet too. If you don't talk, I'm sure it will."

"Darling, stop referring to me as 'it'. I do have a name, you know." So came the smooth voice from the other side of the room. There was a pause. "And I still have enough pride left to resent being called his 'pet'!"

Seeing how angry the woman suddenly got at being addressed as 'darling' by a demon, Sam for the first time thanked whoever got him into this mess that he ended up with Crowley. At least he would get a laugh out of seeing his kidnappers having to deal with him.

All the same, seeing for the first time what exactly was on the table near him, Sam found himself praying desperately for his brother to come.

Hurry up, Dean. Please.

Three days previous

There was fire. A huge, raging fire. Smoke was belching out, covering the sky. He could smell it – it had a hint of sulphur to it.

Screams filled the air – people begging to be spared, people crying out in sheer agony as they are killed in ways so gruesome Sam closes his eyes.

He's seen enough to last a lifetime. But it's only just begun.

He walks onwards, on ground awash with blood and what appears to be entrails. He shakes his head and keeps going. He has a purpose.

"This is the way the World ends."

The words, whispered, come from nowhere and seem to cloak him. He looks around, searching, but sees no one. Yet he knows that voice. Knows it all too well. He picks up the pace now.

"This is the way the World ends."

Ignore it and run. Ignore it and run.

He trips over something and falls down. Looking to see what caused his fall, Sam yells. It's a body. But not just any body.

It's Dean. It's his big brother. And he's been torn to shreds.

"This is the way the World ends." The voice is closer now, and sounds pleased. Sam, sobbing bitterly, pulls the remains of his brother to him.

"You bastard! Why him? Why him?" Like he will get an answer. His cry is one of hundreds, maybe even thousands.

"Not with a bang, but a whimper." The voice seems to be at Sam's neck. "I told you I only needed you, Sammy. Only you. And your brother is dead because you wouldn't let me in." A series of harsh laughs. "Can you live with yourself now? Look at the World. Can you?"

Seeing the bloodied, tattered corpse in his hands, hearing the screams and cries from around him, Sam wordlessly shakes his head.

He can't.

And the World burns.

"Sam? Sam? Oye, Samantha, we're here! Wakey wakey!" Dean killed the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition with a sigh. He rubbed his neck and glanced again at his little brother. Part of him felt guilty at waking him up – Sam, having barely slept for a while, sure as hell needed the sleep now – but the other part told him to shut up and think clearly. Anyone who cried out in his sleep was hardly enjoying themselves, were they?

Big brother mode now switched on, Dean edged his way over to his now shaking brother, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Sammy? Sammy, wake up." No response, except for a whimper. Dean tried again, changing tack this time, "Sammy, you're safe. Come on now, wake up for me."

"…'Ean…?" Sam blearily opened one eye. His voice sounded hoarse and groggy with sleep. "You're alive?" He made it sound like a plea.

Shaking his head –

I'm so killing Lucifer for putting my brother for all this every time he closes his friggin' eyes –

Dean gently helped his brother into a more comfortable position. Sam, for once, let him, showing Dean just how exhausted he really was. It was times like these that Dean felt defeated. If it had been just another Big Bad hurting his little brother in the real world, he would've been able to show that no one touches Sam. But in Dreamland, it was another thing entirely, and Dean was unable to protect his brother from whatever horrors he was forced to see. Of course, it was a lose/lose, as Sam needed to sleep. He couldn't stay awake until they had stopped the Devil, could he? It was one big ugly mess, and Dean felt totally useless. Looking at his little brother, who looked so… Young all of a sudden, that feeling just intensified.

Sighing again, Dean was about to change the topic – Sam usually preferred him to do that whenever this happened – but Sam's words caught him by surprise.

"He killed you." Sam stared straight ahead, but his eyes were full of pain. He looked like a man who had been tortured in the worse possible way, and that was something Dean could relate with all too well, having spent a while down in the Pit.

Biting his lip, Dean kept his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It was only a dream, Sammy. Look – I'm here, aren't I?" Seeing that Sam didn't turn to look at him, Dean kept going. "Your handsome big brother is all in one piece, Sam. It was only a dream. It's not real."

"It feels real." Sam whispered, closing his eyes. "I held you. In my arms. I could actually feel that." He dragged a hand through his messy hair, swallowing convulsively.

"Sam…" Dean didn't know what to say. He could imagine all too clearly what it must have been like – he had held Sam when he was dying, three odd years ago. It had been heartbreaking, to say the least. But Sam was being put through all that every night. Dean honestly didn't know how his little brother coped.

Suddenly Sam was looking at him, blinking furiously, all traces of near-breakdown gone. He smiled determinedly.

"So, I guess we're here then."

Ah. Now you wanna change the topic, Sammy. Okay. Let's roll.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We're in the Antioch Township, 'bout a twenty minute drive from Thomas' house, according to the map Bobby drew out for us." Dean peered at the piece of paper now in his hands. "The closest motel is only a minute or two away, I saw it driving in." He opened the driver's door and got out, stretching.

Sam followed suite. He had his mask on again, and he was angry at himself for letting it drop only a few moments ago. He didn't want to worry his older brother more, hence why he usually bounced back after the Nightmares from Hell. He snorted. That was ironic.

But this recent nightmare had been more realistic than the dreams had been in a while; more frightening. It was something that was going to linger on with him for a while, he could tell. But he was going to have to forget about that now – they had a job to do here. So, better get started, yes?

The two brothers both headed around to the trunk of the car, and picked up the bags they had packed and placed there. Dean took out his trusty silver handgun and as was tradition, tucked it into the back of his jeans, hidden from sight by his jacket. Sam decided to pull out Ruby's – that demon's – knife from his bag and hid it on is person.

Better be prepared for anything. Bobby says Thomas thinks there are fifteen demons running around here. And that's the minimum number.

Open Season on Demons, then. Just how I like it.

Dean looked at him. "Ready to go?" Sam nodded, and they headed off. They said nothing as they walked, but it was an oddly comforting silence, and Sam appreciated his big brother for letting him be. Sam knew that Dean was worried about him; knew that he felt guilty because he couldn't help him, but Sam thought that the best way Dean could help him right now was to simply let him get over this latest nightmare by himself. Maybe Dean had picked up on that, and was doing just that – letting him immerse himself in his own thoughts.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a tap on the shoulder from Dean, who nodded with his head to the building in front of them.

"Here's the motel. Let's go and get checked in, and take it from there, right?" Dean looked at his brother but Sam briefly nodded and walked in first, not looking Dean in the eye. He knew that if he did he would see his big brother's concern all too clearly there.

Sighing – he knew what Sam was up to – Dean decided to let that go and follow his brother in.

The girl behind the desk was busy with her head in a book and didn't notice them approaching her. When she did, she looked up and Dean could see that she was in her late twenties, with retro glasses and dyed red hair. She was pretty, he supposed, in that 'I love college' way. She dropped him a smile, and closed her book with some reluctance.

"Hey there. Can I help you?" She said, looking Dean up and down. Rolling his eyes at her behaviour, Sam decided to step in before Dean could respond in kind.

"Uh, hi. Yeah, we could do with a room, please. Two single beds," He added quickly, seeing her raise an eyebrow at his request. "We're brothers." He concluded, gesturing at Dean. The girl smirked, and nodded.

"Sure. So…We got a couple of those free. Lemme see… What 'bout Number 22?" She chucked the keys over to Sam and scribbled something down. "So could you just sign here?" She pointed to a spot.

Sam scrawled down the quickest name he could think of and pushed the slip back at her. He glanced down at her book – some book of verse. It looked old.

"You like poetry then?" He asked her whilst she scribbled something else down. She nodded, a genuine smile on her face now.

"I'm studying to be a teacher, but I'm secretly aspiring to be a poet. Words are just…Magical." She laughed. "The couple who left recently told me I should keep at it. They agreed with me that words are musical, too." Her grin dropped suddenly. "They're missing now. Such nice people…It's just so sad."

Sam looked at Dean, who slightly nodded his head. Both were thinking the same thing – they may have found number one and two of the demon search squad, or at least they had found their meat suits.

Seems we're on the right track.

She still looked sad, and Sam, feeling sorry for her, decided to change the topic. Might as well before they headed off. "That book looks old." He said, and she patted the book almost reverently.

"It was my mom's, who gave it to me. It was first published in the fifties, so it's pretty old, I guess. It has my favourite poem in it, by my favourite poet, so I love it."

It was Dean who spoke this time. "Who and what are they?" He tried to sound interested, but poetry had never been his favourite thing in the World. But the girl seemed nice enough.

She laughed again, and handed over their receipt. "I adore T S Eliot. And my favourite poem is his, 'The Hollow Men'. It's the last lines in the final stanza, you see. 'This is the way the World ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.'" She smiled, in a better mood. "It's just so… Foreboding. Well, have a nice time here, guys." She opened the book and went back to reading.

Sam forced his feet to move towards the hallway, listening to Dean thump around behind him. But he didn't how he managed to do even that, or how he kept his face emotionless.

That's what he said to me. In that nightmare. That's what he said.

What does that mean? Does he know what we're doing here?

I don't know…

He shook his head. Perhaps he was just being paranoid; thinking too much about it. After all, it was an old, and also a very popular poem. Those lines are so widely quoted. It was probably nothing. Sure it wasn't.

It was probably nothing, right?

"…So we can do that then, yeah?" Dean's voice seemed louder all of a sudden. Sam perked up and realised he was being watched. And he hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to Dean.

"Uh… Yeah." He said, trying –and failing – to look like a guy who knows what's going on around him. He saw Dean looking at him; knew he'd failed the 'he's all right' test.

Damn, now I'm gonna get it.

"Sam…" Dean started, and then stopped. He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Look bro, I know you like to forget about the whole nightmare stuff, but this time it seems different. No, don't give me the 'I'm fine' crap," He said, as Sam started to speak. "You've been acting all zombie on me since we got out of the car, and you zoned out again just there now. Look man, I'm worried about you. Just… If you do wanna talk, talk to me, okay?" Dean's voice was just on that side of pleading, and Sam felt so overwhelming guilty. It was all his fault that Dean was so worried. Dean did not need any more pieces of crap on his already full plate.

Sam took a deep breath, and looked his brother in the eyes.

"Seriously Dean, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm still not fully over what I saw, but… I'll be okay. Thanks though, man." He hung his head, as if in shame. He told his brother a half truth with a lie. After he had been so open with him, the first time he had been in ages too. But it was for the best though, right? If Dean didn't know how bad it was in his head, then he'd be better off. And that was all that Sam wanted.

Dean looked at him again, as if he knew something was going on but didn't pursue the topic, and instead opened their motel room and went in. Sam followed, and the two of them dumped their bags onto their separate beds and began to unpack.

"Sam, you know the drill. Start making this place demon-proof, yeah?" Dean placed a silver knife under his pillow with a flourish. "I'll ring Thomas; let him know we're here. We might as well see him asap." He dug around in his jean pocket, pulled out his mobile and walked out to find a place with a better signal.

So Sam was alone. Alone to think. Just the way he liked it.

He started pouring salt around the windows and as he did so he allowed his mind to run riot.

If Lucifer knows we're here, then that means this was all a trap, right? Have we been lured here? It did always sound suspicious, right from the beginning. If that's true… But then that means that Crowley-

He straightened up suddenly, his hazel eyes blazing. The salt poured, he scrunched the empty bag up and threw it into the corner. He had been aiming for the bin but missed, yet he didn't care. Hs mind was elsewhere.

That bastard. He's been playing us the whole time.

Sam shook his head, allowing a smile of pure disbelief cross his features. He had to admit, it had been executed perfectly – Crowley saying that he didn't need another Lord of Hell chasing him down, but that was over to cover up his real plans. The plans that Sam thought he had finally uncovered. It now made perfect sense – Crowley was on the run after crossing Lucifer, but Mammon was the new rising star. The new guy who wanted to overthrow his daddy. So why not pledge allegiance to him? Mammon would be only too happy to get another on his bandwagon, especially one who had no links to his dad. Sam rubbed his tired eyes with one hand. They had been dragged into this mess, he didn't know why. But he would find out.

The question was: to tell Dean, or not to tell Dean? His big brother would sigh, roll his eyes and say he was paranoid. Say that they needed to use the backstabbing demon, and then once they didn't, it was bye bye. He just couldn't see what Sam could. Which was ironic, as it had been Dean who had been so against using Ruby, back in the day. True, he had been right then, but it was Sam's turn to be right now.

Damn it Dean! Why could you not just see that we're being played here? Why did we let it come with us?

Sam's internal struggle was halted mid-flow when the door opened and Dean himself walked in, tucking his mobile phone back into his pocket. He looked around the room to check out Sam's handiwork, and nodded his approval.

"So, what did Bobby's friend say?" Sam asked, trying to forget about his demon problems and focus instead on something else.

Dean lay down on his bed and stretched out with a little yawn. "He said that we're welcome anytime, but he'd prefer us to get over there as soon as. Apparently it's worse than what he had previously thought. Thinks there could be more than fifteen demons running around here." Dean shook his head. "So… They're really interested in something here, anyway."

Sam shook his head also. He had never heard of so many demons crawling around in one area, but from that time when he and Dean had been locked up in a jail cell by Victor Henricksen in Colorado… There had been quite a lot of demons surrounding the building then.

"I was thinking about what that girl said back there. Do you think that couple have been possessed?" Sam questioned. "It makes sense." But he didn't even consider mentioning how she had quoted the same lines that had been in his dream.

His brother sat up again. "It fits the bill – they've 'vanished', but my guess is that they're with the little demon party." He paused, and then an idea hit him. "Sam, do a little digging, see who else has disappeared from around here. Might give us an indication of how many we could be dealing with here."

Sam inwardly winced. He should've thought of that. But his mind is a little full right now; too full for anything resembling common sense. But he has to act normal or else his brother will pick up on what's going on, if he hasn't already.

So he pulls out the laptop, switches it on and accesses the internet. It's time for some good old fashioned detective work, albeit using modern technology. Besides, it's something he doesn't mind doing – it's far better than having to hide from angels of tackle Lucifer, isn't it?

While the boys were discussing the case, and while Sam was researching, the young girl behind the check-in desk at their motel was slowly putting down her book with a sudden smile playing about her lips.

She looked around her, before glancing at the door. There was no one there bar herself, so she could finally get around to reporting now. She couldn't wait to do so; her boss would be so pleased with her. True, it technically was bad news, that which she had, but the phrase 'to kill two birds with one stone' came to her mind.

"I'll hand over the Winchesters. My Master can get his vessel, and the other one can be disposed of." She smiled dreamily. She got up off her seat and began to walk towards a door hidden from the view of the public. Once she was in the little store room, she sat down on a little stool. She was just pulling out a very old and mysterious looking goblet when she was suddenly interrupted.

"Justine?" A male voice enquired, causing her to jump. "What are you doing in here, leaving the desk empty? Not good customer service, y'know."

She pirouetted around, flashing the older man a wide smile. "I needed a break." Seeing him raise an eyebrow, she continued quickly. "Come on, Brian. You know it's pretty much deserted out there. Let me hang out here for bit, please? Don't tell Mark on me, sugar!" Justine pouted, dropping him a wink.

Brian seemed to consider something for a moment, before shaking his head. "Justine, you think your charms work on me – they don't… But I'll let you off this time." He laughed. "Such a bad influence you are on me, girl."

Justine laughed along with him, but inwardly she was screaming in frustration. Stupid man, holding her up. But… She thought suddenly, an evil glint in her eyes, he could be useful…

"Say, Brian. Could you help me fix my necklace at the back? I can't reach the clasp!" Brian rolled his eyes, but nodded good-naturedly and walked over to where she was sitting. He leant over her, and was about to touch her neck when he spotted a flash of something silver in her hands.

"Justine? Why do you have a knife-" he was cut off with a sputter as with one swift stroke, Justine slit his throat. He gaped at her as blood poured from his neck. She grinned happily at him, collecting his blood in the strange goblet.

"Thanks, Brian. You're a star!"

Turning her back on the dying man, she raised the now-full goblet in front of her, closed her eyes and began to chant an incantation in Latin. After a moment, the blood began to churn violently. Justine smiled.

"It's me, Lucius." She said, and nodded, as 'Lucius' asked her something. "Yes, I've got news. Everything is going to plan, but…" She sighed. "That's the good news." She paused, as she listened. "No, it's nothing like that. It's… The Winchesters are here. Somehow they must've heard we where here." She frowned, biting her lip. "Well, I could just kill them now, but I was thinking that we could trade them in." She laughed suddenly, and her eyes flashed a brilliant, dark black. "Oh, Lucius. They do say that great minds think alike!" She nodded again. "Right, I'll do that then, and I'll see you later."

Justine set down the goblet, and stretched out with a yawn. She glanced over at the now-still figure of Brian.

"Sorry about that, sugar. But what can you do but do your job?" She laughed, and blew the corpse a kiss. "Love you!" Justine made to get up and walk out of the room when she suddenly felt… Wrong. Spinning around, she found herself being watched. She gasped.

"You…" She muttered, taking a step backwards. "The Hellhounds were meant to get you!" Her eyes flashed black again, and she snarled. "What are you doing here, traitor?" She spat angrily.

"Sorry, darling. Know it's bad manners to eavesdrop, but that conversation was not to be missed." Crowley tilted his head to one side, smirking. "So, you still think you can take the Winchesters without a fight?" He looked her up and down, and laughed.

Justine narrowed her eyes. "I should've known it was you who'd tell them everything." She paused, thinking furiously. "What are you going to do now? You can't let me stay here, now that I've seen you." She smirked. "Wasn't great thinking on your part."

Crowley looked bored, and inspected his hands. "Well, you've answered your own question, love."

Justine started, momentarily caught out. "What do you mean?" She asked suspiciously.

The Crossroads demon laughed once, and took a step towards her, his eyes glittering. "Obviously I can't let you hang around. I might be caught, and dragged away. As crazy as I may be for helping the Winchester boys, I am certainly not suicidal."

Justine swallowed, the fight suddenly knocked out of her as she felt afraid. "I… I can tell you everything you need to know." She said weakly. "No need to send me back to Hell, yeah?"

Crowley smirked, his expression dark. "Now, that sounds more like it, darling." With a lazy wave of his hand, Justine found herself flying across the store room and into a wall with a crash. "Tell me all. I like a good story."

This has grown from a one-shot into a full-length fic. Meaning that everything I had planned for this has to grow and change, too. Darn tootin'.
Oh yes. T S Eliot is one of my favourite poets, and 'The Hollow Men' is also one of my favourite poems. Just so you know. :P

Alright my lovies. Hope you like what's happening so far; reviews are as always greatly appreciated. Also, wish me some luck for August 24th. I get my GCSE results then...Which I'm freaking out about. D: xx