"Take care of?" Dean called from across the room. "Just wondering, is that what you're gonna to do with me if this doesn't work?"

Sam ignored his brother's question, sitting down at a table built into the wall instead.

"I mean, really, Sam, do you want to go there? Because, well, I know, I don't—" Dean continued to no avail.

"You needn't concern yourself over that," The Doctor replied coolly from where he leaned against the console. "I will allow no such thing."

"Yeah, sure," Dean muttered. "I'm sure you'd have told that demon the same thing."

"You know, I try to make it a policy not to engage such baiting," The Doctor nodded to Dean. "Although in this instance you should also know I'd have intervened if at all possible. And that is all."

"Oh, you make it a policy. Just like he makes it his to kill demons. Good to know, since, yknow, I'm officially on his kill list." Dean jibed, smirking.

"Dean," Sam muttered.

"What, thinking better of it?" he snarked, making a mockingly expectant face.

"One? I'm definitely not planning to kill you right now. You might have noticed I went to some trouble to get this, yeah?" Sam indicated the book he was poring over with one hand. " And two—the writing in this is not the easiest to read. Please, shut up."

"Oh, ok, that's great," Dean replied, sarcasm flooding his voice, "I guess I'll just sit here while you decide whether I'm gonna live or not based on the contents of a book our mutual enemy gave you."

Sam rolled his eyes, clearing his throat loudly as if to emphasize his previous request, but refused to respond otherwise as he stared down staunchly at the object of his scrutiny.

"Is he always like this?" The Doctor asked as he came to look over Sam's shoulder at the tired old volume.

"Yeah, 'fraid so," Sam replied.

"Hey, I'm right here!" Dean snarked.

"Oh, believe me, we know, as if there's any way we wouldn't with the way you go on," The Doctor said, turning back to Sam.

"So you really believe this is going to do it?" The Doctor added in a lower voice.

"I sure hope so," Sam replied. "I really do…"

"You hope?" Dean goaded. "Really? Crowley gives you a book. You're just gonna believe whatever's in it?! You're really just assuming he's not trying to kill you some other way, since that's what he just was doing before ET here burst in on us?"

"Do you think I want to have to take that risk?" Sam's voice was low. "The truth is, I don't have a choice."

"Really, Sammy? Really? Because I think you do. Crazy idea—ask me what I think, why don'tcha?"

"No," Sam said shortly. "Because you've made it abundantly clear you aren't you. So no. Your opinion doesn't count in this. And I'm going with what I've got, which hell, maybe it's not much but it's the best I have."

"Damn if you aren't freaking stubborn," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, thanks," Sam grunted, turning so that he couldn't see his brother at all, hunched over the book on the table.

…..

Sam's head was pounding as he stood from the table, motioning for the Doctor to come talk to him.

"Hey," he said in a low voice. "So, uh, I think this is it."

"What do you mean? " The Doctor asked , moving to stand beside him, frowning deeply as he regarded Sam and the book behind him on the table.

"Well, you can take us back to the Impala now. It's all in there, and I have what I need already to cure him." Sam nodded grimly, a slight unease showing in his face as he spoke.

"Are you certain?" The Doctor prodded, his tone doubtful.

"Yeah. I am. It's uh, it's just something I have to do. I know, I'm surprised as you are, it's pretty simple, actually."

"Really, Sammy? " Dean cut in from where he sat around the console. "Because simple is never really in our vocabulary."

"Yeah, really. Although I thought it was pretty clear your input isn't up for consideration," Sam replied, giving Dean a look, before turning back to the Doctor. "I can cure him. Just get us back to where you picked me up, and from there I can drive us back to the bunker, where I have the stuff to do the ritual."

"If you're certain," The Doctor nodded reluctantly. "But please, if you need anything, let me know."

"Yeah, of course," Sam murmured, sitting back down at the table as the Doctor moved to the console, where he set to work sending the Tardis back to where they'd first left.

Sam stared at the book, the tiny snatch of relevant words he'd finally found in it echoing in his head.

As the Mark was created in blood, so too it shall require the blood of the brother, whose burden is to take upon himself not only the blame for his own actions of embracing the evil of Lucifer, to atone and purify himself, but also for the evil of his brother, whose love went too far, and give of himself blood to wash away the evil which has been created by the Mark. For if not for this, the Mark shall never fade in its power, convoluting slowly the human soul it is stamped upon, as only in the sacrifice for and of the ties that bind remains the last vestiges of its bearer's redemption.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle the tears slid out unbidden, burning hot down his face.

"Oh my God, Dean." He whispered, far less to the alien-feeling being that inhabited his brother's body across the room, and more to a God he had long since stopped bothering to think would ever listen. "What am I going to do?"

He spent the next few moments searching as he furiously fought back the overwhelming helplessness, wishing there was anyone or anything within reasonable likelihood of helping again, as he'd wracked his mind so many times before since realizing what Dean was, but again, as always, he came up empty.

Grief giving way to anger, he found himself slamming a fist into the table, the desperation exploding out in a meaninglessly noisy display.

"Sam?" The Doctor called, somehow able to tell the shuddering and jolting of the Tardis from the single blow Sam had given. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great," he muttered, his mouth forming a hard line. "Just freaking great."

"Good. By the way, have you seen Canton lately?" The Doctor continued.

"What?"

"Canton, yay tall, bears an uncanny resemblance to your King of Hell?" The Doctor supplied, miming Canton's height and build with a cheeky grin between bits of his dance of pushing levers and hitting buttons.

"Yeah, no, I know," Sam shot back irritably as he stood. "I guess I can go look for him. Do you need him or something?"

"No, it just seems a bit quiet is all."

"Well then why does it matter-" Sam began, trailing off as he rounded the side of the console where he could see Dean, his view un-eclipsed by the machinery.

"What the hell did you do?!" He sputtered, rushing to do something, anything, to fix the scene before him.

Canton was sprawled on the floor in front of Dean, who shrugged, frowning nonchalantly. "Dunno, he was getting a little annoying, I guess. I mean the dude's seriously freaking bossy. I just wanted a little peace and quiet, that's all."

"What the hell? What did you do to him?!" Sam demanded, kneeling to look over Canton, who to his relief, groaned. At least he's alive, he thought miserably, spotting a dark swath of blood running down the back of Canton's neck from a laceration on his head from which it oozed.

"He tripped, I guess. Guy sure needs to look where he's going," Dean muttered, quirking an arrogant smile which Sam met with a look of revulsion.

"What?! It's not my fault humans are so damn fragile."

"What are you, evil and in kindergarten?" Sam scoffed, not bothering to look up as he shook Canton's shoulder.

"Hey, look, can you hear me? You took a pretty nasty fall and an impact to the head from the looks of it," he murmured.

"What the bloody hell just happened to me?" Canton managed hoarsely, his eyes opening.

"My brother, apparently," Sam replied, tone apologetic.

"Well, I can gather that much," Canton snarked, sitting up as he batted the air with a hand as if to tell Sam to clear out.

"I'm not braindead now, probably just mildly concussed. And look a right mess, I'm certain." He continued, frowning as his fingers traced the red dribble down his neck.

"Yeah, no, I-" Sam tried to speak but was drowned out.

"Ah, I never liked this shirt anyway," Canton muttered, regarding the area blood had seeped into its white collar.

"Yeah, sure, smartass," Dean interrupted. "But, yknow, I like you even less than you like your shirt, so why don't you quit being such a bitch about everything so maybe when I get loose, I don't feel like killing you first? Huh?"

"That's it," Sam cut him off tone harsh with anger, as he hauled Canton to his feet from where he still sat on the floor despite his protests. "You're going to stay here with the Doctor and I will fix this, once and for all," Sam replied, helping the still-unsteady man to the table he'd been sitting at.

Note:

Thanks for the reviews. To answer your question, yes, I do have a resolution in mind. Sorry it takes so long for me to update. I have 13 stories going at once, so lots of ideas all over the place.