It would've been awesome if Azazel's eyes were red-rimmed yellow like the Sith such as Darth Vader in Star Wars instead of just plain jaundice yellow.

TWO HOURS EARLIER…

"Howdy, Jake," a voice said. Jake jumped 'awake' and up to his feet. When he saw a supposed man sitting on a log nearby, Jake backpedaled. The man's eyes flared yellow.

"I-I'm dreaming aren't I?" Jake stuttered.

"I got a genius on my hands," Azazel told himself. "Well, congratulations, Jake. You're it. Last man standing. The American Idol. I have to admit, you weren't the horse I was betting on. But still, I gotta give it to you."

"Go...to hell," Jake fumed.

"Been there," Azazel retorted, having been thrown in there after he, Lucifer and the rest of Lucifer's fallen angels were cast out of Heaven. Hell was a place most demons hated. It was a prison of bone, flesh, blood and fear. Azazel was the current king of hell but he hated it. He could never bring himself to understand how Alastair loved it. "Done that."

"Everything you put me through! Dragging me to the place; making me kill those people!"

"All part of the beauty pageant," Azazel dismissed. "Jake, I needed the strongest. And that's you."

"Needed me for what?" Jake demanded.

"Oh, I got a laundry list of tasty things for you," he casually answered.

Jake tightened his fists, his anger boiling in his dream-body. Jake didn't know how much more chaos he could take. He had convinced himself that killing Ava was necessary. She was a wild cat who needed to be put down. But killing Sam was different. He knew it was wrong but he did it anyway. He was desperate. It was still wrong.

"The only thing I'm going to do," Jake declared. "Is wake up, hunt you down and kill you myself."

"You know, others have tried, it's not easy," the demon version of Jack Nicholson laughed. John Winchester spent 20 years trying to kill him, only to fail and die at Azazel's hands. "Trust me, Jake. You wanna be a good little soldier, here."

"And if I'm not?" Jake dared to ask.

"If you're a bad little soldier," Azazel said as he got up to get in Jake's face. "Well, that dear ol' mom of yours, that adorable little sister; I'll make certain that they live long enough to know the chewy taste of their own intestines."

Jake wanted to lash out, but he froze. First of all, he was dreaming. Ol' Yellow Eyes wasn't Freddy Krueger so that wouldn't do much good. And his family was now threatened. The second-lowest blow of any villain is to threaten a man's loved ones (the first being a crotch shot). But maybe this demon was just jerking him around to behave.

"No, Jake, I'm not bluffing," Azazel said, almost as if reading his mind. Jake looked away. He could he turn back now. He killed Sam and now he was in an impossible position. Ma, sis...Sam...God...forgive me.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Like I said: genius," Azazel lightened, placing a hand on the grunt's face. "Also, I've discovered that a big bad ol' nemesis of mine has showed himself after thousands of years."

"What the f-thousands of years?"

"What, you really thought I was some 54 year old bloke?" Azazel smirked. "This is just a meat suit. A nice meat suit. Listen, Jake, you do as I say and I promise, you won't regret it. I need you to take this guy out. He's in a place I can't access. You'll have to slay this prick for me."

"How?"

"All in due time, Jake. Don't worry, with my guidance, you'll turn this guy into dust."

Azazel patted a man on Jake's shoulder and smiled.

"Who is this...enemy?" Jake asked.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Jake snorted. "That's not a lot to go on."

"Hey, lighten up," Azazel retorted. "I'm still helping you, aren't I?"

Azazel put his arm on Jake's shoulder. A woosh sounded and suddenly they were somewhere else. They were outside a two-story hanger of some sort.

"Where are we?" Jake asked.

"We're outside one of my subordinate's personal lock up," he answered. "Keepsakes. Momentos. Things we'd prefer the rabble not prefer to get their grubby hands on. Talk to Crowley for the Angel Sword. Tell him I sent you. He'll obey. Second floor."

Jake's gut told him to run away. But his mind told him to obey. His family's lives were at stake. This demon could do almost anything. Slowly but surely, Jake started to head for the only door there. On the second floor, Jake entered a room that was full of antiques, paintings and boxes. At the far end, a man in a business suit was looking at some books. Hearing footsteps, the man turned to face Jake.

"Now just who the bloody hell are you?" the British demon inquired. "I don't like intruders…"

"I'm Jake. Azazel sent me. Who the hell are you?"

"Ah. Crowley, King of the Crossroads, at your service," the demon said, bowing his head. "What did ol' Yellow Eyes send you here for?"

"He told you have some sort...Angel Sword or something…"

"Ah, yes. Angel sword," Crowley said, going into some boxes. "One moment."

He opened a green military looking rectangular box. A lock magically unlocked itself, falling to the floor. Crowley opened the crate and pulled out an Excalibur looking sword. It hummed with power.

"Here you go," Crowley said. "One angel sword. Twice as long as an ordinary angel blade, but just as powerful. 5 and a half pounds. 35 inches long. Carbon steel. Guaranteed to slice and dice whatever goodie two shoes you and the boss need to…'gank' as you Americans say."

Jake took the sword, moving it this way and that for a bit. "Thanks."

"Give the boss my best," Crowley said as he returned to his books.

OUTSIDE

Outside, Jake came out with the sword, making sure Azazel could see it.

"Jake, this bad boy is gonna kill an Archangel," Azazel said.

"An Arch what?" Jake said, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right, kid, angels are real," the demon explained. "Now, most angels have simply a butter knife called a Blade. But this blade, it's longer and more power than a little angelic switch blade. But with this, you'll be able to slice and dice him."

"Who is it you want me to kill?"

"Michael."

BOBBY'S APARTMENT

"I sense you want to talk to me, Dean," Michael said, walking into the bathroom. Dean appeared in the mirror, as if Dean was talking from a portal from another dimension. Dean looked at himself all over.

"How-?"

"Doesn't matter how. What do you want to ask me?"

"Um...okay...Uh, yeah, I need to say a few things. Once you're done with this whole...wearing me to the prom or whatever you're doing, I want my body back. Understand?"

Michael nodded to the mirror.

"And, you know, what exactly are you planning to do?" Dean continued. "Be honest, what exactly is going on?"

"I'm going to kill the Yellow Eyed Demon."

"Yeah, but how exactly will you kill him? You gonna smoke him out like with the crossroads girl?"

"No. I may be an Archangel and the most powerful one ever, but the demon, whose name is Azazel, by the way, is too strong for me to exorcise. I'll just have to smite him. Or use this."

From his sleave, Michael pulled a blade. It was a long, silver, triple-edged dagger.

"What the crap is that?" Dean asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"It's what's called an angel blade," Michael explained before sheathing. "Can kill almost anything in the world. More powerful than the Colt but the gun would come in handy."

"Um...Okay..." Dean pondered. "One last thing...why do you wanna help us humans. Why now?"

Michael looked away from the mirror and considered this response. Michael asked himself the same question a lot.

"When God chose your kind as the object of His love," Michael explained. "I was the first in all of Heaven to bow down before you when He commanded us to do so. My love for God is greater than anything. But my hope for mankind is no less than His. But I watched you trample that gift. I have watched you kill each other over race, religion, greed and politics...waging war over dust and rubble and the words in old books. And yet in the midst of all this darkness, I see some people who will not be bowed. I see some people who will not give up, even when they know all hope is lost. Some people, who realize that being lost is so close to being found. I see, Dean. And your brother. Humans like you, Dean, are the reason I still have faith in humanity."

Dean had no response. But he felt...good. At least, his life could mean something. "Um...you're welcome, I guess?"

Review.