Sorry for the delay, the last few days have been spent pouring over about 20 theological texts, Enochian histories, Satanic biographies, Latin dictionaries, etc., trying to come up with a reasonably realistic theory. Now doesn't it sound like I've been having a good time??

Thank you for reading! Special thanks to Ster1, cavetrollgrl, Dark Angels Vengeance (both chp 2&3), GotTheShining, Motherlyclucker, snchills, Poaetpainter, St0pSmackinMe07 for reviewing!!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sam and Dean, but I don't. Kripke, Warner Bros, etc are the rightful owners of all involved here. No profit is being made from this fic, it just helps me pass the time until Season 3 starts.

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The next 400 miles were the longest of Sam's life. His end was eminent; he knew that now.

As he pulled into Wamsutter, WY, he took the exit from the interstate and turned north on a one lane back road that didn't even look like it should be paved that led into the middle of nowhere. The gate to Hell was only a few miles away.

Sam was sad that he couldn't have allowed Bobby and Ellen more creedence in his life, but he had learned long ago that anyone associated with Sam Winchester was in mortal danger. The death toll on his life included his mother, father, girlfriend, Pastor Jim, Caleb, and eventually his only brother, who had sworn repeatedly that no matter what he would be there for Sam and irregardless of any perceived 'curse' on Sam, he, Dean, would not be consumed by it. If only Dean had been right. Sam wasn't about to allow anyone else he cared about to be added to the necromancer's list.

So, he isolated himself, staying as far away from them as possible out of necessity. But he was tired, tired of being alone. He had heard it said that 'no man is an island', though try as he might to accomplish this, he had endured it as long as he was capable and he had made his peace with whatever fate had in store for him this night.

As he crested a low hill, he could see the cemetary laid out before him, with the large crypt bearing the gate to the underworld in a position of prominence in the center.

He remembered the last time he had been here. It was the night the Yellow Eyed Demon had finally made his move, opening the gate and allowing hundreds of demons and other evils to escape from the depths. That night had also ended a 23 year search for absolution in regard to the death of Mary Winchester, Sam and Dean's mother. Dean had shot and killed the Demon that night, with the assistance of what appeared to be the spirit of their father, John Winchester, who may have climbed out of Hell and through the gate just in time to be a part of the one event he had led his whole life trying to accomplish.

Sam wanted to believe with all his heart that it had really been his father that night, but his head just wouldn't let him. Nevertheless, it did give him hope that he could pull Dean from the depths.

Parking his bike just outside the tall iron gates, Sam raised his large form from the 'Marina Blue' machine, quickly taking off his black leather jacket and laying it over the seat. He had a few hours before dark, but he had many things that needed to be accomplished between now and then.

He took a keychain out of his pocket and searched it for the small key that would fit the padlock he had placed on the gates of the cemetary; he couldn't figure any reason the small cemetary would need to be opened, as all the graves were from the early 1800's, and he doubted anyone wanted to visit their relatives at this point. Once the gate had been unchained, Sam retrieved a grimoire and several talismans from one of the saddlebags on the bike, and headed for the crypt.

Once there, Sam traced a large 'Key of Solomon' trap on the concrete foundations of the tomb both above and below the door. If anything should pass him, it would not get very far. Over the past five years, Sam had gotten very good at recreating this symbol, having utilized it in multiple exorcisms.

When both Keys had been completed, Sam retreived the grimoire, most of which he had composed himself from various reference books. He took a talisman out of his pocket, a round piece of pure silver, inscribed with sigils in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin, and placed it before him on the ground and knelt down.

Sam held the grimoire in one hand and began to chant. This mix of the languages of the Bible would extend well into the night, and then Sam would be ready. Ready to open the gate.

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Author's Note:

Sorry, short chapter, I know. Research is more time consuming than I had planned, and to be perfectly honest, some of the books I'm reading are pretty weirdly interesting...but most of this chapter is b.s. :D

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