Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Also, special thanks to my beta Faye Dartmouth!

I own nothing. Reviews craved.

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Chapter 3: Stratagems

"Can you feel that?"

Sam shook his head, concentrating on the chair beside the bed. He'd been at it for hours, but couldn't do what Jezebeth was asking of him. He sighed, blowing out a frustrated breath. "No."

She didn't say anything, just stroked his hair, soothing his nerves with a mere touch. He still hadn't figured out how she was doing that. But, as his body relaxed, he felt something. A subtle shift in his head. He'd almost missed it.

"Try again. Let it happen."

Sam glanced at her, then focused on the wooden chair once more. He didn't think he'd ever get this, but he listened to her voice and let his muscles relax. After a long moment, the chair slid abruptly to the center of the room, wood scratching on wood.

Jezebeth had moved behind him, both hands moving to his temples and rubbing in small circles. "Easy. Don't force yourself; just let it come naturally…."

This time the chair moved upward, floating smoothly in mid-air. Another moment and it slowly rotated in place. Sam's elation at the success was short-lived though. His thoughts turned to Max Miller and the last time he'd used his telekinesis. When he'd moved the china cabinet and escaped that closet…when he'd had the vision of Dean being shot and killed.

Fresh fear gripped him for a moment. He tried to quell it, reminding himself that Dean had survived. That he'd made it upstairs in time. But the image of Dean's brains splattering against that off-white wall was still vivid, even after so long, as was the pain of watching his brother die and the fear of someday not being able to stop it.

"You didn't share this with me before…" Jezebeth whispered in his ear.

Sam took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself, but the terrible emotions stayed close to the surface, refusing to be ignored. "It's--- It's nothing. It didn't happen. It didn't happen…."

"But you still fear the image, fear losing him," she said, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"Yes..." Sam nodded slowly, reluctantly, eyes watering at the very thought. Losing Dean was unthinkable….

He found, however, that he didn't want to release this thought, this pain. He always felt that pang of guilt when she asked him to release memories of Dean. Even the painful ones. He felt wrong doing it. Like he was betraying his sibling's confidence. Like he was just plain betraying Dean.

He gasped, taken by surprise when her hand touched his chest and he felt her connection building again. "Release this, Sam. Free yourself…."

He wanted to refuse, but found his resistance dimming again. Maybe she was right, after all…. Maybe it wasn't about betraying Dean….

He barely heard the chair crash to the floor as he sank into her embrace.

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Five days after Sam's disappearance….

The only thing keeping Dean from tearing the demon's throat out was the fact that he would be killing the human it was possessing. Or maybe it was simply because this creature might have information he needed. That was a terrifying thought…or would have been, if Dean could have thought of anything besides his missing brother.

Given how thin his patience was wearing, he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist the urge to kill the man in either case. But, for the moment, he satisfied himself by pouring a slow stream of holy water down the guy's shirt and listening to the unearthly howls of pain.

"Tell me where my brother is, you son of a bitch!"

He didn't give it time to answer, just pour another cup of the blessed water over its head.

One of Bobby's contacts had alerted them that one of the few demons still on the loose after everything went quiet was in Sioux Falls. Dean had immediately come here, hoping it would be the one who'd taken Sam. He'd dared to hope that it was possessing Sam, so that at least he'd know his brother was okay.

It hadn't been. It had just hijacked some lawyer's body.

Dean wasn't sure whether his disappointment was healthy or not. How can you feel so upset that a demon hasn't possessed your little brother? He wondered if he was going nuts... Screw that, I am going nuts, he thought, and it won't get any better until I find Sam.

"What's wrong, meatbag? You miss your boyfriend?" it snickered. The lawyer's mouth twisted into a disgustingly lewd grin.

Dean splashed the holy water into its eyes and picked up the copy of the exorcism rite he'd found at Bobby's. Time to up the ante….

The rite was old. It would cast the demon out nice and slow. Dean picked it because it was good for interrogation. And he felt like hurting this demonic bastard. It was petty, and he was sure Sam would be giving him those disapproving looks he was so good at...

But, Sam wasn't here. Sam hadn't been here in almost a week now.

When Dean found him, he'd listen to any lecture Sam wanted to give him.

The creature howled, partly in pain, partly in fury, as Dean circled him, reading. He was careful to avoid the outer ring of the devil's trap that he'd spray painted onto the lawyer's hardwood living room floor. The demon yelled and struggled, snarling like a tormented animal. Occasionally, the chair it was tied to slid back and forth along the lines of the pentagram.

"W-wait! Stop!" the demon screamed as the ritual reached a crescendo.

Dean looked up from the paper, eyes narrowed. "You got something to say?"

"I--- I know who took him. But, I don't know where he is..."

"I'm listening," Dean grit out.

"One of the emissaries…he was looking for your brother. He finally found him at the crossroads…."

The words made Dean lower the paper and stop the exorcism. "Emis--- Why was he looking for Sam?"

The demon eyed the paper in Dean's hand warily, then grudgingly raised his eyes back to Dean's. "We were supposed to have a commander."

Dean blinked, his mind working for a moment, before it clicked. "Your army…."

"When the one you killed gathered us together, he told us we would need a human leader, someone uninvolved in the feuds and competition that had developed within our ranks. But, your brother killed the chosen one before we were released."

"Jake," Dean breathed. "Sam killed Jake. But…now, what? You think Sam will take his place? And…why now?"

The revelation made Dean queasy. He'd dared to hope that, with the yellow-eyed demon's death, Sam was off the hook with this destiny business.

The demon's black eyes stayed focused on the exorcism in Dean's hand, and it sagged a little in the chair it was bound to. "We've been searching for him for months. We almost found you two about six months ago, but then you stopped hunting, and we lost track of you, again. Your brother is powerful. We all felt what he did the other night. It led the emissary right to him."

Dean reeled from all the information. Six months ago…. That was when Dean had convinced his brother to "retire" and go on their big road trip. Now that you mention it, we did kinda fall off the radar….

"What did he do? The other night…what led you to him?"

The demon frowned, as if he expected Dean to already know. "He killed the crossroads demon."

Dean's mouth fell open. "Killed it?"

"Yes…he tore her apart. Right there on the road. The release of power led the emissary to him like a beacon."

Dean felt like his world was bottoming out. Sam killed the demon? Killed it with his psychic abilities? It was unbelievable. It'd been more than a year since the yellow-eyed demon had tried to coax Sam into using his abilities. More than a year and Sam had shown no sign except for a few visions. Was it possible?

Sam had told Dean all about the experience at Cold Oak. How Ava could control demons, how her powers had grown. They'd seen Jake's abilities grow exponentially over just a few days. And now Sam seemed--- No. Sam wasn't Jake. He'd never turn the way Jake had. Dean was certain of it.

He paused, glancing at his prisoner. Demons lied. All the time. He had to be sure of this.

He splashed more holy water in the demon's face, waiting until it stopped thrashing to ask another question. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"That exorcism," it wheezed, looking pointedly at the paper. "It leaves us weak. If you send me back with it, it'll be decades before I get out again," he paused, his voice cracking. "I was there for so long…."

Dean smirked at it. "You're scared, is that it? You think telling me all this will keep me from sending you back?"

"If you find my knowledge useful…perhaps a deal can be made…?"

His blood running cold at the mention of a deal, Dean ducked his head. A deal was what had gotten them here in the first place. There'd been too many deals the past couple of years. But, he forced himself to consider the demon's words. He needed to keep it talking.

"All right," he said. "I'll think about it. But, first, you tell me about my brother. Where was he taken?"

"I don't know," it replied. Dean snarled and raised the bottle of water over his head again. "Wait! I swear to you. I don't know. I'm only a scout. I haven't seen the leaders in quite some time. I don't even know where they are now."

Dean lowered the bottle. "A scout?"

"My job, as you humans say, was 'recon.' Searching for hunters and locating the easiest targets. I haven't had direct contact with our group leader for almost a year, now."

"Let's say--- Let's say I believe you," Dean started slowly. "What makes you think Sam would ever lead this army of yours?"

The demon smirked this time. "You meatbags have your weaknesses. You're controlled by whims of the flesh. Frankly, I find it sickening," when Dean only frowned, it added, "Did you ever ask yourself why Jake switched sides so quickly? He killed Sam to win the game…but he couldn't turn over his new leaf without help."

Sam had told him that the demon had visited Jake in Cold Oak, as it had Sam. Jake had decided that he was the better choice for killing it, and in some pretty damned deranged reasoning---in Dean's opinion---had figured that the best way to defeat the demon was to do exactly what it wanted. As far as Dean was concerned, that made Jake an idiot, and just maybe he got what he deserved in that old cowboy cemetery.

Dean offered the trapped demon a smug grin. "Jake didn't understand what he was up against. Sam does. He won't help you."

"Really?" the demon asked, his tone making Dean feel cold. "I heard he's making excellent progress already."

Fury rose through Dean again, and he splashed the demon with holy water again. "What are you doing to him?!"

"Nothing!" it howled. "Nothing he can't say no to…but he won't. The temptation is too great."

"What temptation?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Everyone has a weakness…." It replied cryptically. "I've told you everything I know, hunter. Will you spare me?"

Dean's gaze went from the demon, to the paper and back again. He pursed his lips in thought. "You know…one of your kind told me once that Hell was like a prison…."

The demon stared at him, its face blank but its black eyes somehow conveying a quizzical expression. Dean nodded at it.

"Tell the warden 'hi' for me," Dean said. He read the last two lines of the exorcism rite before the demon could react, and watched as the volcanic plume of black smoke erupted from the screaming lawyer's mouth. It blasted against the ceiling and dissipated into nothingness.

Dean checked the lawyer's vitals, finding him unconscious, but alive. He glanced up at the ceiling again before turning on his heel and leaving. "Don't worry, I'll be sending you some more inmates soon."

He placed an anonymous 9-1-1 call from a pay phone down the street, telling the cops where to find the lawyer, and then turned the Impala towards Bobby's.

At least he knew Sam was still alive. Now all he had to do was find him.

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Jess called out to Sam from where she was pinned to their bedroom ceiling. It was the same dream he'd had on and off since her death, even occasionally after he'd finally let her go. She was looking down at him, asking for help, asking him why.

"It doesn't hurt..." Sam muttered, amazed. He'd never thought he could see this without feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. "I feel sorrow...but, I know it wasn't my fault. I didn't understand that my nightmares were visions."

Jezebeth smiled at him, stroking his hair in that soothing way she had. "You've come so far, Sam. You're growing stronger every day."

He looked over at her, unable to keep from smiling at her lovely face, but it faltered. "I...I don't want to forget her. I don't want to dishonor her memory like that."

"Your compassion is one of your strengths. You won't forget her if you don't want to. No one can force you. No one can force you to do anything, anymore..."

Sam startled awake, blinking in confusion. He wasn't sure where he was. Glancing around, it slowly came back to him. He was lying on the bed in the basement where he'd been taken. It was dark, but then it hadn't been anything else since he'd arrived. He idly wondered how long he'd been here. There was no way for him to gauge the time.

His eyes stopped wandering when they fell upon his clothes, draped haphazardly over the foot of the bed. It was only then that it dawned on him that he was naked. He froze when a familiar hand ran through his hair.

"Feeling better?"

He looked over, finding Jezebeth curled against him. He felt a rush of sensation as she moved. The memories came back in flashes.

His brother yelling on that Indiana roadside...telling him how selfish he was...how hard it was to turn his back and walk away...

Saying goodbye to his Dad in Chicago...letting him go the way he knew he had to...the nagging feeling that he was making a mistake letting his Dad walk away...

Jezebeth's lips brushing his...her hands moving across his chest...

Finding his father dead on the hospital floor...knowing before the doctors arrived that it was too late...knowing he would never make his Dad understand...he'd never get to say how sorry he was...

Cradled in her arms, sobbing as the memories of Jess' death rolled over him…he couldn't stand the pain anymore. His guilt at not saving her ravaged him, he was responsible. It was his fault...

"This pain has poisoned your soul, Sam. Let it go..."

He just wanted to stop hurting.

He kissed Jezebeth back for the first time. He was so grateful. She was helping him. She was freeing him...

"You were there just now...inside my head?" he asked, concerned over the apparent violation of his privacy. She nodded. The rhythmic stroking of his hair continued. He never wanted it to stop.

"Yes...you were calling to me. I wouldn't have entered uninvited."

He frowned. "I called you?"

She nodded again. "Don't you remember?"

Sam shook his head, bewildered. How could he have called her? A small part of him asked why it mattered. He called, she obeyed. Wasn't that enough?

Shaking off the odd train of thought, he found himself pulling her closer and wrapping his arms under hers. Her skin was warm against his, and he got as close as he could, soaking up that warmth to ward off the chill in the room.

He was liberated...at peace. For the first time in years, he was completely at ease. He knew he owed it to her.

"I...I can't begin to thank you for what you've done for me..." he whispered. She placed a finger against his lips, shushing him. His brow raised in surprise.

"I've done nothing worthy of praise. I'm yours, Sam."

"Mine?" he murmured, frowning. "I thought you--- I mean, you were there for Jake too---"

"Jealousy is beneath you, Sam," she smiled. "He wasn't half of what you are. He was an arrogant fool."

Sam considered that, then looked back at her. "You're mine?"

"Always," she whispered. She moved against him, lips pressing into his and driving all further questions and thoughts from his mind.

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"Do you believe what it told you?" Bobby asked.

Dean nodded. He'd told Bobby and Ellen about the demon he'd exorcised in Sioux Falls, and what it had told him about Sam. From the expressions on their faces, they weren't any happier about it than he was.

"What kind of temptation would they offer him?" Ellen asked, a strange tone in her voice.

"I…I don't know," Dean stumbled. He hadn't expected that question. He had no idea what Sam might want so badly that he would---

Nothing. He'd never go along with this! Dean thought angrily, annoyed with himself for doubting Sam.

Ellen wasn't finished though. "Dean…I have to ask… What if Sam goes through with it? What if he tells them 'yes'?"

Dean and Bobby protested simultaneously.

"He wouldn't!"

"Ellen, how can you even ask---"

"I have to!" she shouted over their objections. "The last time one of these psychic kids went bad we had Sam with us to help bring him down. And I almost ate a bullet in the process. This time we don't have any help. So, I gotta ask, Dean… What are you gonna do if Sam really does go bad?"

Dean was fuming. How dare she say something like that…. He looked over to Bobby, hoping the older man would jump in and keep him from tearing Ellen's head off. But, to his dismay, Bobby only looked ill, and averted his eyes from Dean to the tabletop.

He was shocked. Surely Bobby didn't agree with her… He knew Sam. "Bobby?"

"You saw for yourself in Wyoming, Dean," the older hunter muttered sadly. "You know Sam came back different."

Dean could barely reply to that. "Different, yeah, but… He's…."

He found no support in the others' eyes, only resignation and a hint of sympathy. It was unthinkable. His little brother---the brother he raised---wouldn't betray them. There wasn't an evil bone in Sam's body, regardless of what the yellow-eyed demon had said. What he'd resurrected was Sam. It was. Dean believed that with every fiber of his being.

But, he wasn't the same man either. He was more like the hunter John had wanted him to be, hard, calculating, merciless in battle.

And it really shouldn't have surprised anybody that Sam hadn't come back exactly the same. The boy Dean had raised had been murdered, left to die on a muddy street in an abandoned town. He'd been murdered by Jake, and the deranged psychic had paid the price for that. Sam had been simply, justifiably pissed.

Everything since then…well, Sam had single-handedly tried to break the crossroads deal. He'd been under a lot of stress, and that was bound to change someone. Dean believed he would have acted differently too.

Ellen seemed to take pity on him. "Dean…I just want to be ready. Just in case things go to hell. In case Sam can't say no to whatever they want from him…."

Dean shook his head. Sam wasn't evil and never could be. Ellen was wrong. Bobby should know better. He pushed himself up from the table, unwilling to continue the debate. "It won't come to that. Sam won't help them."

He moved off, heading for the door. Ellen called after him.

"Dean? What if he does?"

Then we're screwed, because I won't fight him. I won't hunt my own brother. He turned to look at them, but said nothing. He didn't have to. From their expressions, he knew they saw it in his eyes.

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Sam sat on the edge of the bed, staring blindly at the door leading to the small bathroom. He needed to shower and get cleaned up, but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to get going. Unwittingly, his thoughts turned to the last time he'd showered in there…the way Jezebeth had….

He pushed the vivid memory away.

He knew that Jezebeth's role here was more than just "grief counselor," and she didn't deny that, much to his surprise. She was here to clear his mind for the task the demons wanted him to perform. They wanted Sam to lead their army, and wage war on Earth, itself.

That should be a chilling thought to him. It should terrify him.

It didn't.

It wasn't that he didn't care. Not that he didn't understand the enormous threat the demon army posed to the world. But, his mind was clear. It was free of the fear that once would have paralyzed him. That was Jezebeth's gift to him. He was free to act now in a way he'd never been before.

When Dean had first told him about their Dad's secret, about Sam's destiny, he'd been scared. More scared than at any time in his life. He'd made foolish decisions, letting the fear guide his actions. He'd gotten Dean kidnapped and held hostage by Gordon.

He'd almost gotten Dean killed.

Dean.

Sam missed his brother terribly. He didn't know how long he'd been here. He didn't even know if Dean had truly been alive back on that road when he'd last saw him. He had Jezebeth's word for it. He supposed that would have to be enough for now.

Though, he longed to see with his own eyes. He would like to have run his newly forming plan by his elder brother.

Her hands moved in around him. "You're thinking of him again…."

Sam smiled, amused. "Am I that obvious, or were you listening in again?"

When she'd first started entering his mind, she'd told him it was on his subconscious invitation. Only he could let her in or block her out. She'd neglected to mention that once invited, she could come and go as she pleased. Oddly, though, it didn't bother him. He enjoyed her presence, physically and mentally. She calmed him.

She made things clear.

But that didn't mean he was going to let his guard completely down around her. He wanted to enjoy her presence, learn from her, continue to use her abilities to strengthen his own.

But he also had his boundaries, and he had to maintain them. She needed to respect them.

"I'm no snoop, Sam," she whispered in his ear. He felt the tiniest spike of fear inside her. Fear that he wouldn't believe her.

That had taken some getting used to. She cared for him, he knew that, but she also feared him. She feared angering him.

After Jezebeth had unlocked his memories of that night at the crossroads, he understood why. He remembered killing the demon. And he remembered how he did it. Sam felt no remorse at the memory. After all, she'd left him no choice. She'd tried to take Dean from him.

No one did that. Not anymore. He wouldn't allow it.

Sam let the moment, and the anger, pass. What was done was done. If the crossroads demon had simply done as he'd asked, she wouldn't have had to die. She'd made her choice. He turned and looked into Jezebeth's eyes, and answered her earlier question.

"Yes, I'm thinking about my brother. I'm worried about him."

"He's alive. You saved him. You'll see him again."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, genuinely curious. At times, her prescience amazed him.

"Because you can do anything you want, now. You're powerful, Sam. You can do what you wish."

She was right about that much. He'd felt the switches---as Ava had once put it---flipping in his head. Letting go of his fear had allowed his abilities to develop freely. Visions and telekinesis had only been the beginning. His power was beyond even Jake's now.

Jezebeth was right, he was powerful. More than ever.

But, Sam was pretty sure that it meant more than that.

"It's almost time, Sam," she murmured, her arms around his waist and her cheek against his shoulder. "You're going to have to choose, soon."

Sam nodded, eyes drifting around the barren room. "I know."

"Have you made your decision yet?" she asked, seeming actually curious. Maybe she wasn't inside his head this time.

The demon leaders had visited them once during the time he'd spent here. One of them, whose name Sam couldn't pronounce, had laid out the terms of the deal, as offered to Jake.

If he chose to lead the army and command them, Sam and his family, along with any others he specifically named, would be kept safe. He'd thought about Dean, about how he'd longed to find a way to keep Dean from harm. This was a far better deal that the crossroads demon had offered.

After the war was won, they would live like kings, they would be nothing they couldn't have. Even if it was simply to live in peace. Even if it was simply to have a life with his brother, one that didn't involve death and danger.

Sam had spent many hours considering it since the demon's visit, whenever Jezebeth wasn't helping him develop his abilities.

He hoped he'd come to the right decision.

Sam also hoped Jezebeth was telling the truth and hadn't read his mind. That would be dangerous. He still didn't trust her completely, despite the kindness and training she'd given him.

Running a hand through Jezebeth's long hair, he turned to her and smiled sadly. "Yes, I have."

Her expression turned sad as well. "Then, I suppose it's time to take my leave."

She started to pull away, but Sam reached out and stopped her. "Do you have to go?"

Jezebeth smiled. "You don't need me anymore, Sam. You're ready."

He frowned, glancing down, then met her eyes again. What is that old saying? Keep your friends close…? How did it end? "What if I asked you to stay?"

She cocked her head, obviously surprised. "It's not part of my function here, Sam, but if you wish me to stay---"

"I do," he said firmly. …and your enemies closer. Yes, that was it.

"Then, I would be honored," she said softly, leaning in and kissing him.

Sam heard the door open, and pulled reluctantly away from her. Looking up, he saw Azoreth, the brutish one that had brought him here, enter. It was in its natural form, all claws, fangs, and smoke, and all but blended in with the blackness beyond the doorway.

Sam knew---from Jezebeth---that if he agreed to the demons' offer, Azoreth would be assigned as his bodyguard. It was a formidable warrior, and was capable of taking Sam anywhere he wanted to go, just as he'd transported Sam to this room.

He also knew that, if he declined their offer, Azoreth would be ordered to kill him.

Or at least, try, Sam thought grimly. He gave Jezebeth one last look, then closed his eyes.

Please, forgive me, Dean…it's the only way.

He looked back to Azoreth, and could somehow read the expectation on its dark, ferocious face.

"Have you decided?" it asked without preamble. Sam met its gaze calmly.

"I have."

TBC