A short one, cause why not! Sorry for the angst!

There were very few times in his life when Dean was scared. He would like to say that now was not one of those times, that he was strong and secure and knew that they would find Sam safe and sound. That Rowena hadn't done anything to him yet, that she'd been busy monologuing while they rushed to save him.

But there was this feeling overtaking him at the moment, it was something akin to dread and he wasn't exactly sure where it was coming from. He didn't want to say anything to anyone, though he was sure Cas felt it too because the angel's hand had found his own and as they were running, they were running hand in hand. It may have been stupid, but it was grounding him, anchoring him to the earth. Stopping him from floating away.

Dean followed the light closely, Cas beside him, Buffy, Tara, Dawn and Crowley were right on his tale. The light may have been leading them to Rowena, but as far as he was concerned, it was leading them to his brother, to Sammy. He had to be okay.

There were no demon's guarding the exterior of the building the light led them to, that should have been the first sign. The second sign should have been the lack of demon's guarding the interior. But Dean wasn't thinking, all he could think about was his brother. All anyone could think about were their friends and loved ones possibly getting tortured by a demented witch who liked to place dangerous attack dog spells on people and creatures. Dean shuddered at the memory of Castiel with bloody red eyes.

They turned a few corners when they heard her voice, chanting. They broke into a sprint.

Buffy kicked open the door, she was good for stuff like that, Dean decided. Though so was Cas.

The angel in question wasted no time slamming Rowena up against the wall, placing his hand over her mouth so she could no longer speak. She smiled beneath his grip, mumbling beneath the pressure.

"What's she saying?" Buffy asked, frowning as she helped Willow break free of her chains.

"You're too late." Willow said sadly, breathing heavily, Tara was clutching to her side in an instant, placing soft kisses into her hair.

Dean could feel that same sense of something in the pit of his stomach as he glanced around the room, looking for his brother tied up.

"Dean-" He was expecting to hear Sam's ragged voice, but he heard Crowley's.

Crowley's voice was a warning, it was soft, softer than it should have been. It was filled with something that Dean couldn't quite place and as he turned around to see his brother lying motionless on a table, he realized it was sorrow. He wasn't sorry that Sam was dead necessarily, he was just sorry that a person he'd probably regarded as a best friend was looking at his dead brother again. Dean understood the sentiment, it didn't mean he was thankful for it. He rushed across the room to his brother's side.

"Sammy!" He choked out, looking back over his shoulder to Castiel who was relinquishing his grip on the witch. He moved out of the way in time to watch Buffy punch her, Castiel was at his side in an instant, touching two fingers to Sam's head.

"Dean..." Castiel muttered, his hands finding a place on either side of Dean's shoulders, "He's gone."

"No." Dean shook his head, refusing to believe the evidence that was right before his eyes, "Nope." He sniffed hard, refusing to let the tears spill over, he looked at Castiel who was staring at him with such sadness, it was enough to ruin his resolve, he collapsed into Cas' arms.

On the other side of the room, Buffy was still hitting the redheaded bitch who'd had the audacity to kidnap her best friend when she suddenly found herself unable to move. She was being pushed back, suspended, held up in the air. Unable to do much else, she shouted, looking around. Crowley was stuck in place, Dawn, Tara and Willow were huddled together. In the middle of it all was the bloody mess that was Rowena, and she was laughing.

"Welcome, all!" She shouted, raising her hands into the air as if she were a musical conductor and all those around her were her symphony. Buffy scoffed, she hated the arrogant ones; though when wasn't a being that was trying to take over the world arrogant?

"What do you want?" Buffy asked, highly unamused. Rowena's smile faltered slightly seeing that Buffy wasn't afraid of her.

"Everything." She grinned, "Originally I just wanted to make my own coven, I thought Willow and Tara would be perfect for that, but I see they're not interested in a triad."

"You will pay for this!" Dean shouted from across the room, Castiel seemed to be holding him back.

"I don't think so, Dean." Rowena shook her head, lifting a finger, suddenly Dean was thrown from Castiel's grasp. The angel's face was filled with fury and rage, before Rowena had a chance to do something to him, he'd disappeared.

Grass, he felt grass. How could he feel grass? He was on a stone slab or something hard and cold like one last time he checked. He'd been suffocating, but now the pressure was gone, so was the urge to scream. The urge to run had been lifted as well; he felt content, safe. He knew he couldn't be in the same place, maybe Dean made it, maybe they'd rescued him. Maybe he was back at the bunker.

There was no grass inside the bunker. And he was definitely feeling blades of that beneath his fingertips. He was gripping at patches, pulling them from the dirt just to hear the ripping. Then another sound interrupted that;

When I find myself in times of trouble,
Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom,
Let it be-

Sam's eyelids fluttered open to the sound of music. The tune filled him and stirs him, forcing him to look around. It wasn't the melodic sounds of the Beatles that made him stare forward, but the person singing the words. The guy before him, guitar in hand, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving, sounds coming out.

Sam briefly wondered if there'd been another musical demon. But then he realized where he was. His own personal heaven. Or one of them, he never actually got to see his.

He was in his memory of the fourth of July, the younger versions of himself and Dean were off to the side, shooting fireworks into the air. He was sitting on the ground in front of the Impala. Chuck was sitting on the hood, a guitar in his hands, singing Let It Be.

"Chuck?" He asked, Chuck's eyes opened and looked into his and he knew immediately this wasn't Chuck, was it ever?

"Good to see you, Sam. Welcome to Heaven." His smile: so kind and so welcoming that Sam was almost happy to be there, until he remembered how he died and what was happening whilst he was doing so. The memory was enough to force him to jump to his feet with worry.

"Chuck!" He shouted, "Rowena! She's turning herself into a God!"

"Don't worry about that, Sam, nothing can hurt you here." He began to strum the opening chords of Blackbird, Sam stepped forward and ripped the instrument from his hands, "Hey! I was playing that!"

"Sorry, but we don't have time to sing kumbaya. We have to stop her!" His hand gripped the neck of the guitar when suddenly, it wasn't gripping anything, the guitar was back in Chuck's hands, he was playing Blackbird again.

"Worry not, Sam." His voice was a bit more stern, it halted Sam's retort in his throat, he swallowed it back down, slightly scared of this man before him-or perhaps he wasn't a man at all, "My children will stop her."

"Your children?" Sam spat out, laughing to himself as he tried to wrap his head around what this dead prophet was trying to say.

"Well, child technically. Though you are all my children. The angels are the only ones who really consider me daddy dearest." He began singing again as Sam stared at him incredulously.

All your life, you were only waiting, for this moment to arrive-

Cause who doesn't love Rob Benedict singing... [=