I'm going to be banging out these chapters as fast as I can, and hopefully get most of the story done before the season premiere. But it all depends on the amount of work I get for college and all the other mitigating factors that make up my almost life.

Disclaimer: Own nothing, do I, even this impression of Yoda type I.

Chapter 14:

"You should never have brought him here!" Crowley shouts, pointing to the teen slouched against one of the couches, distracting himself with his phone. He might look like the average teenager, but to everyone in this room he is the first fallen angel himself: Lucifer.

"I had no choice!" Sam retorts, "if he's out of the cage he can cause some serious mayhem! At least with us we can keep an eye on him."

"You know I am right here," Lucifer comments, eyes still fixed on the game he's playing. He doesn't know how humans can make such entertaining devices yet still cause torture. When he's back in Hell he'll have to apply a "Flappy Bird" torture device as well.

"We are well aware of that fact you old buzzard," Crowley growls at the teen. This causes him to look away from the phone with anger in his eyes.

"Old?" he questions while rising from his seat on the couch, "Do you not see my vessel? If anything it's fresh and new in comparison to all the miles you racked up on your body!"

"Well at least this body is my own," Crowley smirks, "how long do you have before you burn this one out too? Just enough until you can jump right back into Moose over there?"

"For your information," he smirks, "this body can support me just fine. I haven't felt the burn like in my other possessions and," he runs a finger down his forehead, "I'm not even peeling."

Crowley growls again. "That just means you're weaker." An idea forms in his head, and he grabs Lucifer by the collar of his shirt, "which means I can do this." He pulls out a demon blade from his pocket and, against the protests of the crowd, goes to stab his victim.

But just as the blade touches his abdomen Lucifer vanishes in red smoke. He reappears behind Crowley and pushes him forward.

"I might be weaker but I'm not powerless, you fraud."

"That's it," Crowley says, turning on him, "I've waited a long time to do this."

"Bring it on, witch bitch!"

Fists are raised and caution has been thrown out the window as the two are about to fight. However before the first punch can be thrown, Sam places himself between the two fuming demons and stops them in their tracks.

"Calm down!" he commands, arms long enough to keep the two at a comfortable distance. The two settle, reluctantly, at the touch. "We can't be biting each other's head's off!" Sam continues, "No good can come from infighting."

"Then you shouldn't have brought him here."

Now it is Cain who is speaking, and he stands next to Crowley to show his support for the current king of Hell over the former. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

"What is this, 'Gang Up on Lucifer Day'? " he mocks, "if I wanted to be treated this way maybe I would have stayed with the angels-"

"Well maybe you should have," Cain affirms, "I don't know how you got Sam on your side, but we are still wary of you; and for good reason. You each touched a part of our lives, and tainted it! Twisted it to fit your own goals! How do we know you won't do that again?"

Now all four look at Lucifer, as he's been backed into both the proverbial, and the literal, corner. His head is bowed, and he is thinking.

"Well?" Crowley pushes, never the patient one.

"I have nothing," Lucifer starts, "nothing that can convince you that I wouldn't stab all of you right in the back to suit my own needs, but I also have nothing left for me. My kingdom is in tatters after my recent imprisonment, all my subjects either killed or turned against me. I have no home, no friends, nothing to stand for. I don't even have my strength to fight against the forces working against me. But I still need to fight and… well, it's better to do that when you're on a team." He looks up, and his eyes shine with a force that wants the others to believe him. "So I'm not saying you have to trust me, but, let me help."

The others are silent, but do congregate around each other to discuss this matter quietly and out of range of his hearing. But from what he an see… Sam and Cain are calmly talking while Crowley gestures wildly and the girl… is glaring daggers at him. He should look away. He does look away. After a few more minutes of trying not to earn the huntress's ire once more, does the sound of a throat clearing announce that a decision has been made. He looks up and sees the four broken from their cluster but still close.

"Lucifer," Sam starts, "you can stay. But you are on probation. We don't trust you, and we might never will, but… and I can't believe I'm saying this… we might need you."

"Oh you won't regret it!" he jumps with glee, then stops as he hears a strange rumbling sound. "What's that?"

"Your stomach," Tracy deadpans, "you need to eat."

"Oh," Lucifer understands, "so where's the kitchen?"

The snow falls around a lone woman in tufts. She pulls tighter on the jacket that covers her, even though she no longer can feel the heat nor the cold. Instead she shivers from the energy that surrounds her. Now this cold, she can feel. Millions of dead souls circle around her, calling out for their restitution. For their revenge.

"The things I do to stay alive."

First she had to gather soil from places in Africa, places like this one that have experienced great tragedy and death. And now she needs the soil from this place…

Auschwitz.

She bends down and drags the test tube through the dirt, letting it sift into the glass at its own pace. The power in the ground, from the million gallons of innocent blood that has been absorbed in the short amount of time it took to extinguish the flames of so many candles of life. She corks the sample and hooks it into a pouch with the others, before bringing a list out from her pocket.

"Next up, Syria."

She disappears in a puff of black smoke.

"Are you sure this was where you were supposed to meet with your 'contact'?"

Gadreel and Metatron are standing on in a small alleyway in a little town that is so sleepy it's narcoleptic. Gadreel is itching to get out of there, feeling a weird energy in the air that makes the hair stand up on his vessel's neck. Metatron on the other hand looks all to comfortable cavorting with the dirt and the grime. He waits with ease to the obvious discomfort of his partner. Thankfully, the sound of shoes clacking against the stone alerts the two to the person's arrival. He stops and stands in the shadows, his face covered by the darkness.

"Metatron," he addresses the shorter man, then turns to the other, "Snake."

A snarl forms on his lips and Gadreel steps forward, "It's Gadr-"

"Now now, Gadreel," Metatron stops him, holding his rage at bay

with a flippant hand. He turns back to the other man, "so I hear you have news for us?"

"Indeed I do," he starts, "Bartholomew's forces are gaining ground. They have recently taken over Hamiel's troops, and are working on capturing the rest of the angel tribes."

Metatron's face has grown dark with disappointment, hoping that there would be something better than that.

"However," the man continues, "there was an operation here that went terribly. We were sent to recover a recent… lost soul from Hell: Lucifer."

"Lucifer?" Gadreel inerrupts, "he's above ground? How!"

"I think I know how," Metatron mutters, connections already forming in his head. "I take it you did not capture him?"

"He got away," the man mutters, "with the Winchesters."

"The Winchesters-!?"

"But!" the man quickly interjects, holding his hands up in a placating gesture; "we are working on another lead soon. I recently found traces of another trail from the same place Lucifer escaped."

"Another demon?"

The man steps out of the shadows at that: white teeth shining, lighting up his brown eyes. "No," Daniel says, "angel."

In the fiery pits of Hell, Abbadon and Urbuna stand in front of a mirror, watching it with rapt attention. But instead of their reflections, they see the woman from before, this time standing in the harsh desert, collecting the sand.

"I still don't understand what you are having her do," Urbana says next to her boss, arms crossed over her crème blouse. She's dressed in a charcoal pantsuit, and her hair has been cut into a fashionable bob.

Abbadon gives her assistant a look, then huffs a breath. "Since finding out about the First Blade, I've been thinking of ways to ensure my… safety." She moves away from the mirror as the figure dissipates from sight. "And so I thought… what if I had my own weapon of immeasurable power?"

"So the dirt from all these different places?" Urbana follows her.

"Minerals," Abbadon clarifies, "from different locations around the world where great crimes against humanity were committed. Where true evil flourished. They have absorbed the essence of the darkness from those acts, and when combined, will create a weapon far more powerful than that little bone-wrench."

"And you're sure Bela could be trusted with this?" Urbana continues, "she was only brought back to handle the Winchesters."

"Oh, she has the fear of me in her," Abbadon chuckles, "she wouldn't dare cross me unless she had a death wish."

Abbadon laughs maniacally, yet Urbana just watches, curious to see how this whole plan will unfold

After that little hiccup in the foyer, Sam decided he needed a break from all that was unholy and go visit Dean. From what he heard there was a slight… "mishap" in his recovery. But now he is awake and in his room with Castiel, alone, and… he lets that train of thought stop right at the station and fires the conductor. He reaches the door, slightly ajar, and raises his hand to knock. But as he does, he hears a strange sound from inside: a laugh. A carefree, full-belly laugh. Sam uses his hand to push instead of knock, and sees Dean and Castiel on Dean's bed, with little space between them, as Dean is hunched over with his eyes crinkled and Castiel just looks at him, confusion and fondness intermixed on his face.

"I still do not understand how what I have said could be misconstrued as anything but what was intended," sighs Castiel, rolling his eyes at Dean's behavior. Dean doesn't respond, just raising his hand as an attempt to answer, still laughing away.

Sam's mouth drops, trying to recall a time where Dean has looked or acted this carefree. He doesn't think there ever was a time. But right now, Dean looks like he could be a normal person, not burdened with the hardships, guilt, and quests ahead of him. Right now, Dean looks like a regular adult enjoying a night in with his… someone. He shakes himself out of his stupor and clears his throat from the doorway.

Both men look up to see who has intruded in on their private moment, and while Castiel looks happy that Sam is back, the laugh instantly dies in Dean's throat. His eyes widen and he bows his head, not able to look Sam straight in the eyes.

Sam looks at Dean strangely, why his entrance has caused his brother to retreat into his shell. "Hey, guys…" he says slowly, entering the room.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel says, eyes following Sam's and joining the stare-fest.

"H-hey," Dean mutters, still unable to look at Sam. Sam gets closer and closer as he approaches the two. He sits down and goes to put his hand on Dean's shoulder, but just as he touches him, Dean jumps away and moves more into Castiel's personal space. Sam notices how he is gripping Castiel's hand tightly, and how white his knuckles are. He realizes something must have happened… but with how Dean is acting, doesn't have the heart to approach it now. He pulls back, and turns towards the TV screen, paused during a Star Wars movie.

"We were watching 'The Empire Strikes Back'," Castiel fills in, "he said that since we had the time he might as well 'educate me in pop culture'."

"Oh," Sam nods, "well, that's nice…" He trails off, not knowing where to go from there. Dean still looks like he wants to shrink into the bed. Castiel casts a look at both brothers before continuing to fill the silence.

"So, Sam," he says, "what happened in Milton?"

And so Sam goes off into the story: about the souls, Bela, Abbadon's plan, Lucifer, the angels, and Tracy. He weaves the web that ensnares Castiel, but Dean is only barely paying attention. His mind is racing with the thoughts that have been silent in Castiel's presence but have caught him by surprise by Sam's entrance. When he walked in he did not see the brother that left. He saw the kid with bruises in his dream. The one he let down time and time again. He couldn't stand to look at his failure in his face; otherwise he would have been pushed back over the edge again.

"And so we escaped, barely, and made it all the way back," Sam finishes, leaning on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

"Interesting," Castiel hums, mind racing with all the new information. "Dean," he shakes the hand within his own, startling the other man out of his reverie. Dean turns glassy green eyes to Castiel. "Dean," Castiel starts slowly, "what do you think?"

"Huh?" Dean asks, finally brought back to the present.

Castiel sighs and looks over Dean's head and at Sam, who gets the message. Sam stands to leave, and Dean flinches yet again at the sudden movement.

"I-I'll be going back to make sure no one killed each other," Sam says, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He makes it to the door, and without turning around, bids the two goodnight.

A couple of minutes pass before Dean can work up the energy to unfurl from his former position, but his hand still doesn't leave Castiel's. Castiel searches Dean's face for anything, trying to find the answer to whatever is ailing his hunter in the freckles that dot his skin. "Dean-"

"Don't," Dean gulps, avoiding Castiel's probing eyes, "Just-please. Don't."

Dean asks in such a small voice, that Castiel can't help but comply with his request. He takes the remote from where Dean discarded it from the beginning and resumes the movie from where they paused it.

On the screen, Leia stands there with Chewbacca and C3PO, forced to watch Han Solo as he gets frozen in carbonite.

"I love you," she says, trying to convey all that she wants to say in those too few words.

"I know."

"So you are the literal Cain, from the Bible, the one that killed his brother?" Tracy asks, sitting on her haunches close to the man in question. He just stares back at her before slowly nodding his head.

"Indeed, I am."

"And you are here to help Dean, control an ancient blade that is able to kill the current Queen of Hell?" ("She's not queen yet!" Crowley shouts, but is ignored)

"That is true as well," he nods again.

Tracy sighs, and leans back. She cranes her neck on the back of the chair, rubbing her eyes to quell a growing migraine. "When did my life become some lousy action story? It's like someone took my life, and wrote it into some, diverging alternate universe!" She throws her hands up, so annoyed with how the world has changed in so little time once again in her life.

At this time, Sam has re-entered the room and has caught Tracy in her little pool of despair. He double-takes, then looks to the rest of the room, and thumbs in her direction. "Do I even want to know?" he huffs.

Lucifer answers, "She's only now questioning the decisions she's made."

"Why me!?" she groans again, face in her hands.

Sam is about to say something, but thinks again and just joins her in her pity party: now at a capacity of two.

"Okay her I can understand sulking," Lucifer points at Tracy, "but you too? Your life has always been miserable and you choose now to sulk?"

Cain shoots him a hard look before turning back to Sam. "What's wrong, boy?"

"It's just…" Sam is having trouble getting the word out. He opts for a different route instead. "Did something happen to Dean while we were away, besides the First Blade thing?"

"No, no," Cain assures, "did something happen? Is he alright?" Cain starts to get up, but Sam waves him off.

"He's alright…" Sam trails off, the 'but' hanging in the air. Cain nods at him to continue, so he does. "He couldn't look me in the eye. It's like he was… afraid of me."

Cain looks away, understanding the situation. But Sam keeps his eyes on Cain. "Something did happen," Sam states, "what?"

"Well…" Cain starts, but it's actually Crowley who answers.

"We don't know."

All eyes turn towards the demon king as he strolls in from another room: the library. He has the tablet in his hands as he gives it to Cain. "When I put the Blade in his hands, he reacted violently: he was thrashing around, we had to restrain him. Soon after that, Cain and I left your brother in the hands of his angel. When Dean awoke later, we tried to get answers out of him but from what he told us, something was going on in his brain. He wouldn't speak further on that subject, but obviously it must have shaken him up quite a bit. And you must have been involved somehow since, well, you know."

Sam takes this all in; feeling guilty for the way Dean is acting. As if sensing the weight being added to Sam's shoulders, Tracy turns around and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she says, dragging his eyes to meet hers, "this isn't your fault. Whatever happened to Dean is the Blade's fault and its alone. It's evil, so naturally it would do its best to hurt Dean in anyway possible. Just think of it this way: obviously Dean was so shaken up by it because of his love for you, right?"

Sam nods his head, and he starts to relax, seeing the sense in Tracy's words. She rubs his shoulder for a second before removing the palm from his skin. He feels colder somehow, but chooses instead to focus on the thing currently in Cain's hands.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"This," Cain gestures, "is going to help Dean train to better handle the effects of the First Blade."

"You're going to give it to him again?" Sam stands, angry that they would jeopardize his life a second time.

"He agreed, Samuel," Cain says, rising to his full height as well, "but with training, he can better control the dark powers the Blade offers and block the side-effects." He starts to move towards Dean's room. "Now all of you go about your business while I go about mine."

"It's not working!"

Dean sits cross-legged on his bed, the angel tablet once balanced on his hands has now been carelessly tossed to the side as he grits his teeth in frustration. Over two hours ago Cain kicked Castiel out of the room and set to work to teach Dean meditation techniques that would be able to help him control the darkness that was currently flowing through his veins.

"You're just not focusing on what you need to focus on," Cain says, picking the tablet up and placing back in Dean's hands. "You need to find the darkness and grab hold, bringing it all into one place in your body. Then, find your inner light and have it shine brighter than the darkness. Try again."

"And how is this supposed to help?" he holds the angel tablet up in his hand.

"It's to help center you, strengthen the light inside. Since its of angel origin, it can counter-act the effects of the demon energy that is coursing through you. Now try. Again."

Dean rolls his eyes, but again enters the state of forced relaxation. He breathes to a beat, and his movements still. The only thing moving is his mind. He's trying what Cain has been saying, to focus on the darkness, but he doesn't think it's gonna…

'Wait, what's that?'

He sees a thin strand of black floating along, and in his mind's eye, tugs at it. He keeps tugging at it, finding the process to be easier than all the times he thought before. The strand has now grown to a spool, and it keeps growing. Each dark thought in his body being pulled to one center location.

'There's not enough space for all the darkness inside of you.'

He stops, hearing the voice again. Castiel isn't with him, so he's in the water with Jaws circling him now.

'You're 100% darkness, there's nothing you can do to control it. It controls you.'

The darkness that was already collected starts to shake, and it grows in size and shape to look like a severed head: his father's. Yet his skin is obsidian while his eyes are ruby and he smiles evilly in Dean's direction.

'Let the evil wash over you, it's the only way.'

The smile is getting closer, opening up and getting closer and closer, until the mouth is almost around Dean-

"Gah!"

He jumps from his position, sweat dripping down his body from the panic of his mind. His hands are shaking, so he wraps them around his biceps to try to stop them from rattling so much. Cain is there, at his side, trying to calm him, but he's too close, everyone is too close-

"Too close!" he gasps, and tries to squirm away from the elder man, falling from his bed and hitting the cold floor beneath, a nice sensation to his flushed skin. He's hyperventilating, and Cain can do nothing to help him. He quickly leaves Dean's room and makes it back to the study where the rest of the group is wrapped up in their own tasks.

"Castiel," he says getting the angel's attention. He doesn't have to say anything else as the angel is already on the move towards his hunter's room. Cain soon takes his place, slumping down onto the seat. Lucifer goes to join him, leaning against the arm.

"I take it the training didn't go well?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"He's having difficulty controlling the darkness inside," Cain explains, "he's being overwhelmed. Like there is too much turmoil in his mind."

Lucifer snorts. "I could have told you that without even needing to be in there." Cain gives him another harsh look before Lucifer is getting up and moving away. "However, I think I know someone who could help with that. Who has had all the time in the world to learn about inner peace and all that crap."

"Who?" Sam asks, intent on helping Dean even if Dean doesn't need him.

"It's time for a little family reunion," he turns to Cain.

"Let's go see Adam."

"And no one knows anything about him?"

The doctor receives a pitiful shake of the head from the nurse as he goes over the files on their "John Doe." The kid was found wandering the side of the road before collapsing from exhaustion. The people who brought him in said he was speaking in toungues. He looks at the kid now, hooked up to machines and fluids that his body needed: lanky, blonde, grimy. Another homeless youth on the streets was always sad. But suddenly, the body started to jerk awake.

"Nurse, nurse help me," the doctor tosses the file to the ground before going over to stabilize the patient, whose eyes are now opening and flicking across the white walls at a rapid pace.

"W-where am I?" he asks, scared and confused at the same time.

"You're in a hospital," the doctor says, "and you are…?"

"I-I don't know."

We'll be introducing a new character soon that has a connection with our man with the corn Cain: Adam, the First! I already have an idea in mind on who the character is going to be based off of so when I describe him in the next chapter I would love for you guys to guess who I was going for.

Next chapter to be posted soon. Until then… Review!