Thank you for reading! Special thanks to Ster1, tennischik09, RedDragen, Elliesmeow, St0pSmackinMe07, JaggerK, teal-lover, Alienmom, Dark Angels Vengeance, and lekelly 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 mechanism clanked to a halt, inner and outer rings aligning to form a pentagram.

Sam retrieved the Colt from the keyhole, then stepped back and drew his blade, readying himself for battle. He knew that the demons had not planned this breach into the depths of Hell, meaning there shouldn't be an army waiting for him on the other side of that gate. With that taken into account, Sam hoped this would be easier than it sounded, but had learned long ago not to rely on hopes.

After all, his plan was to march into Hell.

Dripping from head to toe in consecrated olive oil, and still full from the Holy Water he had imbibed, he swallowed hard and gripped the handle of the broadsword in sweaty palms. He was as ready as any human could be.

The doors of the gate ratchetted open slowly.

And nothing happened. As expected, there was no surge of demon smoke issuing from the gaping maw of the Underworld. Grateful as he was for that fact, it unnerved him slightly, for not only was there not a vast queue of evil waiting to escape -- there was nothing at all.

Sam moved forward slowly, carefully to the threshold. He reached forward and drew the door open wider with his left hand, his right still tightly holding the handle of the blade. As he placed one foot into the doorway, Sam saw the culprit, the reason he hadn't had a welcoming party. The centry, the demon positioned to watch the doorway and alert all others were any circumstances to change, lie convulsing on the steps leading up to the gate.

His face contorted, puzzled. Huh, Sam thought. One of the first prayers he had completed while making his preparations outside the crypt was said to paralyze demons of a certain ilk within the sound of the speakers voice. Sam had thought the incantation would have only worked on the earthly plane, but was glad to see he had been wrong. If the centry had warned others, Sam would have been swarmed in the blink of an eye.

Leaning down over the demon, looking into it's black eyes, he drew his blade coldly across it's throat, cutting a deep gash. Good to know this works, Sam thought, as he watched the realization dawn in the demon's eyes and terror fill them. An electrical jolt seemed to course through the creature, and soon it dissolved into a wisp of white smoke. There could be no mistake, the demon was no more.

Sam stood, looking over his weapon. There wasn't the slightest trace of evidence on the blade to indicate what had just happened. "Cool," he murmured to himself.

Then he heard it, a low rumbling growl approaching from behind him. Sam did not dilude himself into thinking that he wouldn't be a target for those earthbound evils wanting access to the underworld and all the increased numbers that would mean for their army, though he hadn't expected their arrival to be quite this early in his operation.

Sam cautiously moved back to the gate. The blessed salt and Devil's Traps should stop any full demon, but if any of them had the power to control humans the way the Yellow Eyed Demon did, Sam could be in real trouble.

Ducking down, he watched the horizon for any sign of the source of the disturbance. Soon, he saw headlights in the distance, and knowing that this road dead ends at the cemetary, he knew the visitors, human or not, were for him.

He rose to greet his guests, walking back out of the crypt to stand just past where the Key of Solomon ended.

An old blue tow truck rumbled to a halt beside Sam's bike, and his heart sank as he realized the two people he had most tried to protect had come blundering into the middle of the most deadly of situations. Sam stabbed his blade angrily into the dirt and walked purposefully toward the truck.

"Turn around!" He demanded, pointing toward the direction from which they had come, and not waiting for any pleasantries. "Go home, Bobby, and take Ellen with you. This is my fight, I don't want you here!" He scowled at Ellen, who met his gaze then looked away silently, as she and Bobby climbed out of the rusty pickup and slammed the doors.

Bobby strode quickly forward and grabbed Sam's shirt with both hands. "Damn it, Sam," he yelled angrily, with a hint of pleading in his tone, "Don't you realize you can't do this alone?! Let us help you! We both consider you family, for God's sake."

Sam clenched his jaw. "I won't lose anymore family here. Not for this. Not at the hand of a demon."

Bobby shoved him back. "Neither will I. Now, don't be a damn stubborn Winchester, and give us a hand." He turned and walked back to his truck, where Ellen had already busied herself pulling supplies from the bed. She handed him what appeared to be a long piece of junk-metal cut with an oxygen-acetaline torch and run briefly over a grinder, and strapped one to herself as well. Makeshift iron swords, Sam realized.

For his part, Bobby pulled two large hard-plastic backpacks from behind the cab. When he saw the confused, yet still angry, look on Sam's face he explained. "Flame throwers -- retrofitted to carry Holy Water instead of jet fuel. I'd been tinkerin' with the idea for a while, now, but demandin' times call for...shit to get done." He bent his knees and hoisted one of the packs onto his back, then turned to help Ellen with hers.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Sam could have laughed at the sight of the two people before him. They resembled the bargain-basement version of the Ghostbusters.

Bobby saw the smirk on Sam's face. "Sorry I couldn't get a third one for ya. My buddy from 'Nam only had the two."

Sam smiled for the first time in a long time. They may be foolhardy, but at least they were sincere and loyal. "No, I'm good. Really."

"So, Hotshot," Ellen called, buckling her flame thrower's harness, "You were just going to charge in like it was Custer's Last Stand, huh?"

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Author's Note:

Sorry guys, no updates for a while, I'm off to Texas for the rest of the week, be back 08/20/07. I'll be writing, and I can briefly check my email (and reviews for incentive) but won't be able to post, so please make my day and send me some encouragement! I'm 'the blonde chick on the Munsters' when it comes to visiting my family, so I'll be writing to escape the madness this week.

PLEASE REVIEW!!! THANK YOU!!!