A/N: Hi, everyone! I just wanted to say thanks again to those sticking with this, and putting up with the crazy, sporadic updates. To make up for all that, I'm aiming to post two in one week! Anyway, enjoy! And as always, I don't own the boys, just borrowing them.

Chapter Ten

"Sammy? What the fuck's going on?"

Sam froze, the cell phone still open in his hands, the sounds of his father's screams echoing in the room; those cries would haunt him for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Dean was looking up at him, still coughing blood, a look of fear and confusion in his eyes. "Sam! Tell me!"

"Dad's deal," he whispered, finally snapping the phone shut. Mercifully the sounds of his father's cries stilled. "The demon figured it out. We gotta find him!" Sam's brain was racing a mile a minute as he grabbed his clothes and stuffed them hurriedly in his bundle. And froze when he heard yet another agonizing hack from his brother. His father was being torn up by Hellhounds at this very moment, and his brother had just relapsed into stage four cancer. He couldn't leave his father to die, and brutally at that. But logically there was no way he would arrive to his dad's motel in time; hell, he didn't even know where he was staying. And Dean needed a hospital now. Sighing in frustration, Sam ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his fraying nerves. And all the while Dean sat on the bed, trying to remain calm for his brother's sake but secretly freaking the hell out. Because what healthy young man suddenly began coughing up blood with no leading symptoms whatsoever?

"What about it, Sammy? I don't get it. Didn't he have a year?"

"The dumbass breached his contract. And now we gotta go. Hurry up, Dean. Pack your stuff. We need to get you to a hospital."

"Sammy, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Sam sighed, not wanting to tell his brother of his cancer. Because to do so would be to admit he was dying. Again. But there was no way he could hide it, either. Dean would find out sooner or later.

"It's back," was all he said.

"What's back?" But Dean knew, and immediately he remembered: the nausea, weakness, the pain in his side. He closed his eyes, could actually feel the symptoms rushing back, like a tidal wave. "It's the cancer, huh?" And sick or not, Dean hurled his water glass across the room in frustration. The glass shattered into several pieces, the liquid running down the wall and staining the dingy carpet.

"Which means we have to get you to a hospital now, while you still…" While you can walk. Before you slip into another coma. Blinking back tears, Sam helped his brother pack, not forgetting the Colt, still in its box. It was a long shot, but maybe, if he killed the demon, he could reverse Dean's cancer. It had been done before. Hell, he could probably make a deal himself. Sam closed his eyes, images of his father alone, torn about by Hell's vicious canines, flashing before him. For a moment, he thought he was going to lose his supper that night. Fortunately, the nausea passed, and in a few minutes he had loaded their gear in the Impala, Dean already slouched in the passenger seat. He looked just as he had in Dr. Ryder's office last August the day she had told the brothers that the chemo wasn't working. Not this again, Sam thought as he through the car in gear and sped off in search of the nearest hospital. Please, God, not this again. Because this time he didn't have Jessica to support him; the financial assistance of his friends and neighbours. He was on his own.

XXX

Sam was far from surprised when the doctors confirmed Dean's diagnosis: stage four liver cancer, liver failure, in need of a transplant. The estimated wait time was astronomical; Dean's name having been removed from the list following his miraculous recovery last summer. Doctors were astounded at how someone could be on death's door, recover without a trace of cancer cells, only to have the disease suddenly return at full force. Of course, it was common for cancer to return at full force, but for one to go from riddled with it to cured within minutes, only to have it again… it was baffling, to say the least.

But Sam didn't care about the astounded doctors. His thoughts were only for the man lying in the bed beside him, once more drifting in and out of consciousness. He had already come so close to losing him then, and the thought of having to endure the whole, painful process again was too much. And this time, there was no Dad to make another deal...

Sam closed his eyes, the sounds of the Hellhounds, and his usually strong father's terrified screams, haunting him. He could almost smell the putrid stench of death, taste the coppery blood on his tongue. The young hunter knew that he would carry the mental image of John Winchester's death for the rest of his life...but because of his father's sacrifice, Dean had been given a clean bill of health; it was only John's risky (and foolish) attempts at finding loopholes which had caused the cancer to return with a vengeance. A risk Sam himself would never take, demon or no demon.

Could he really make a deal of his own? The thought made him physically ill. Sam actually reached for the bedpan at Dean's bedside, prepared to vomit what little remained in his stomach. But nothing could be worse than watching his brother deteriorate before his eyes - to see him suffer a slow and painful death. He would have a year, raising hell and killing as many sonsofbitches as possible before sneaking away and dying alone. It wasn't ideal; hell, it was something Dean would do himself. And he'd be devastated. But anything was better than this.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam muttured as he sat up from his brother's bedside. "But I have to do this. I hope you understand." There was no answer but the steady beeps and whooshes of the machines keeping his brother alive. With a heavy heart, Sam left the room, praying he wasn't about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

XXX

"Well, well, what a surprise."

Standing before Sam beneath an overcast night sky, the demon sauntered her way towards him, heels crunching in the gravel with each step. "Let me guess, Daddy didn't live up to his end of the bargain and baby brother is trying to clean up the mess. How disgustingly cute."

"Don't be coy. So you know why I'm here."

"Looks like your precious big brother is back in the frying pan, huh? And poor Sammy has to watch him die all over again. It's just all too pathetic." Running her hands through his thick hair, seductively, as Jessica would do. Once again, Sam fought off the urge to throw up; the demon's resemblance to his late fiancee was almost uncanny, with her long, blonde curls and aqua eyes. She was even wearing a hint of the scent Jess wore, and for a moment, Sam considered dropping it, or finding another crossroads in hope of summoning a different demon. Sensing the hunter's discomfort, she grinned wickedly, and her eyes flashed black. "Better? Maybe I remind you of someone?"

"Shut up," Sam hissed, pushing the demon aside. Until he actually kissed her, he wanted no physical contact. "So, do we have a deal?"

The demon smiled, leaned closer to Sam, crimson lips almost brushing agains his. And then, a whisper. "No deal."

"What?"

"You heard me. I said, no deal." The demon pulled back from the almost kiss, running her fingers against his chest. "Not that I don't regret kissing you. You are a handsome young man. But right now, things are lining up perfectly. So run along, go see your brother. I have a feeling he's not going to be around much longer."

For a moment, Sam stared at the demon, dumfounded. He had been certain that he would be able to make a deal. Who wouldn't want another Winchester in the hot seat? But as a hunter, he had still been prepared for the worst. It was the name of the game, to always expect the unexpected. And so, without hesitation, he drew the Colt from beneath his jacket, aiming it between the demon's eyes.

"Alright then, how about a little persuasion?"

At the sight of the gun, the demon froze, terrified. "Where did you get that?" she asked, attempting to steady her shaking voice.

"That's not really the question you should be asking, now, is it? Now, are you willing to make a deal?"

"I can't." There was no mistaking the fear in the demon's voice; she was telling the truth. Sam could feel his heart sink, but he remained steady, the Colt still aimed steadily at her. "But I can tell you where Azazel is."

"Azazel...?"

"The one you call The Yellow Eyed Demon. Very creative." Sensing a way out of iminant death, the demon was beginning to relax. "And it won't even cost you anything."

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

The demon laughed. "You don't. But I do know that if you can't save your precious brother or Daddy dearest, the next best thing is revenge. And since I'm feeling so generous, I'm going to throw in a freebie. You kill Azazel, your brother lives. But if he dies before you get your Yellow Eyes there's nothing bringning him back."

Sam stood there, dumbfounded. This demon was actually helping him? There had to be a catch somewhere. But it was a risk he had to take, no matter how much it seemed to be too good to be true. Slowly, Sam lowered the weapon, eyes narrowed. "All right then, where is he?"

"Where it all started," she answered coyly, and arched her head back. Immediately a cloud of black smoke spiraled before her, before the young woman collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Sam cursed to himself; of course it would be a damn riddle. Slipping the gun back in his coat pocket, he leaned over and helped the girl, who was starting to regain consciousness, to her feet and led her back to the Impala. But as he drove, the young woman sitting in slience in the passenger seat, Sam Winchester felt his heart sink for the second time that day.

He had to go back.

He had to go to Lawrence.