Okay, well this chapter was supposed to be a lot longer…but it was taking me F-O-R-E-V-E-R to complete. So I decided to give you this into two parts, and make the ending into three chapters. It's almost over, I promise. It won't be too much longer. Thanks for reading.

The three men and the angel all stood at the cellar door, two of them with weapons in hand. At least three or four pistols hung off Dean and Bobby's bodies, armed to go out blazing. Dean readjusted the strap of ammo across his chest, his finger dancing off the trigger, his nerves gone haywire. He was all too ready for the action.

Bobby's finger also completed a tapping routine off the shotgun's small trigger flab. He, too, was pumped, ready for the onslaught that was sure to come.

Castiel, however, was less than thrilled about the upcoming intended blitzkrieg. In fact, he was the only one against it, having known it would conclusively end in their untimely death. But ultimately, he conceded, having realized that he, himself, couldn't hole up in the basement for much longer. He pulled the exhausted form of Sam up against his side, tugging the long arm over his other shoulder. "Just for the record, this was your idea," he said unenthusiastically.

"You can think of anything better?"

Cass paused to think for a brief second at his charge's retort. Then he huffed in defeat. "No, I suppose not."

"See," Dean emphasized his rebuttal, strolling over and placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "How're ya holding up Sammy? Ya good?"

Sam barely turned his head off of Cass's shoulder to look at him. His eyes fluttered weakly, his pale skin glowing sickly in the light. "How…how do I look?"

Dean paused, biting his tongue in order to prevent him from saying his brother looked worse than an anemic zombie. Instead he bopped his head up and down and said, "Good…you look good. Adonis would be jealous."

Sam snorted. "Liar," he whispered. "Just so you know, this is a really bad idea."

"Yeah, I know. But…it's just another day at the office. It was gonna end up being this way anyway, so…" Dean nodded. "But just in case, I—"

"Dean," Sam butted in, "Save it."

Dean gave him a goofy, yet relieved smile. He never was one for the goodbye speech. "Alright, time to lock and load. Ready when you are Cass." He resumed his place beside Bobby, re-cocking the shotgun in his hand. He closed his eyes one last time, in belief that that this might be his final hour.

Cass tightened his hold around Sam's waist, releasing his other arm. He extended out his hand, unleashing the veil that held his telekinetic power. The wheel on the door fidgeted. He released more of his God-given talent and the wheel then began to eerily spin faster, the creaks echoing harshly on their ears.

Then with one final crank, the door swung open…

Bobby and Dean immediately launched out the opening and began shooting in all directions as fast as their triggers would allow. Bobby took the left side as Dean did the right. Massive beams of light illuminated the room in a strobe effect as their weapons continued to fire, engulfing them in a smothering cloud of smoke.

Dean was the first to run out of ammo. He quickly resorted to the second gun suspended off his trousers, a high-power shot rifle, and let off a couple of shots. The hum of the cartridge emptying sounded, and he stashed it to the side, quickly pulling out the Glock 9mm. Another long running hum sounded and Dean knew Bobby also had run out on empty. The old man chucked his weapon to the side and held steady his second favorite, .22 caliber rifle.

Silence befell around them, the smoke swirling upwards making visibility near impossible. They kept still, listening, anticipating.

There wasn't a wail, a long agonizing cry of death, or the sound of movement, nothing but the sound of their own heartbeats pounding in their ears. The gunpowder smog began to dissipate, the darkness of the basement enshrouding their entire surroundings.

Dean kept his eyes peeled and his hearing on high alert. He looked for dead carcasses. From the entire volley of lead the two men let loose, there had to be at least one dead monster. However, none was to behold. Up in the rafters, there were no sign of the Skemies. On the floor, in the corners, behind the banisters, there was no half-destroyed evidence of the Rawheads, the Witches, or anything. He gulped. That usually wasn't a good token.

He sent a cursory glance at Bobby noting the same suspicious expression. Apparently he also found the lack of bodies daunting. Dean then looked back towards Cass inside the Panic Room. "Come on. If we're going to do this, now's the time."

Cass nodded in agreement and easily glided over the threshold with Sam in tow. He paused just outside the doorway peering up at the ceiling. Bobby and Dean moved in closer prepared for the next step of the plan.

"Wait," Cass called out, stopping the men in their tracks. He suddenly appeared alarmed, then waved a frantic "come" gesture towards them. "Come on. Come on. We need to go n—"

Flash.

Boom.

Then rendered a big explosion of wood and cement debris, followed closely by a heart-stopping shockwave. The first thing Dean saw were his feet flipping over his head, the force catapulting him backwards. His head first collided with the back wall before harshly landing on his back; the breath knocked completely out of him.

A pained cry was heard and he quickly sat up to see Cass and his brother flattened against the floor. There was another flash and then Cass was suddenly pinned to the ceiling. He tried to move, but it was as though he were stuck to flypaper.

Dean scrambled to his feet running over to the spot. He first checked on his brother, bucking in surprise. The impact surely would've squashed Sam, but he remained whole and alive, albeit barely. He then spun around searching for the invisible enemy, keeping the gun trained high. Nothing happened. No one showed. Nor was there an odd anomaly sense to the air.

He took a small tentative breath and then reached for the angel. "Reach for my hand Cass. Come on dammit!"

"It won't work. This is Raphael's doing. Get Sam back into the room NOW!" Cass demanded.

"No. Fight it Cass. We can still do this."

"No…" Cass suddenly gasped, his eyes growing wild. "Dean! Behind you!"

Dean didn't need the warning. He already felt the presence behind him. Whirling around, he let off a shot—the being blocking the blast sending the edges of fire hurling toward him. Hot pain ripped through his arms and chest, the hot buckshot pellets penetrating deep. The archangel Raphael smiled with a malicious intent before swinging out an arm.

Dean swore he felt the hit long before the fist connected with his skull. He flew over and hurtled through a wooden pillar, the column breaking in half as though it were a toothpick. Hellish white-hot pain sprouted in his upper back, a massive 9.0 headache forming from his brain ricocheting back and forth in his cranium, his body gone slightly numb. He blacked out.

The archangel gave a triumphant "hymph". He went for Sam, who gazed up at him tiredly. The vessel knelt down, the celestial being forcing a soft, regrettable expression on its chubby face. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. You have done well in your fight, but I cannot allow this union to be." He said in a deep voice, placing a palm over Sam's head where a small light began to kindle.

A steady stream of shots occurred and several gaping holes formed in the vessels back. Raphael took away his hand and turned around where Bobby stood heroically, thick black smoke unfurling from the .22's chamber.

Raphael grinned. "Human," he shook his bulky head. "Very gallant of you, but very stupid. You know your pathetic instruments are of no use against something like me."

"I know," Bobby replied shakily, "But it was worth a shot."

"And it worked!" someone had said from behind the archangel. Raphael turned and came face-to-face with Castiel. Cass in a mad dash lunged at his foe, forced him across the basement floor, and in an upward motion lifted him through the ceiling. Raph, however, before he disappeared grabbed Cass by the lapels of his jacket and took him with him, both disappearing out of sight.

"Dammit Cass," Bobby cursed. He got back onto his feet, having fallen from the ruckus the two angels had caused. Running the short distance, he first checked on Sam who seemed to be still breathing, and then ran over to Dean. He rolled the heap of a man over smacking his cheek lightly. "Dean. Boy, wake up! Dean!"

Dean's eyes took a moment to flutter open. He groaned, the filmy edges of his vision fading out. There he saw the grand shape of his surrogate father standing over him, pulling on his arm. Bobby's voice weaved in and out, as though it were speaking to him through a malfunctioning radio frequency.

"Wha…what?" He could barely understand his own voice.

"Get up! We gotta get out of here," Bobby repeated.

Dean still couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Surmising from the desperate tone and the tugging on his appendage, he figured it was time to get a move on. He stumbled to his feet, swaying a bit. "I'm…I'm g-good Bobby."

"Ya sure?"

Dean thought for a second. He nodded. "Y-yea. Go. Get Sammy." He looked around. "Where's…where's Cass?"

"Gone," came the abrupt reply.

"Ah jeez, you're kidding." He bent over and picked up his fallen weapon.

"'Fraid not son," Bobby responded gently rolling Sam over and pulling him into a sitting position. "Here boy. Let's get ya up."

Sam moaned, blinking slowly. "Hmmm…Bobby."

"I hear ya Sam, but come on. We need to…" he trailed off, his gaze eerily crawling upward as though he just realized something. He then sent his worrisome eyes on Dean, who grew alarmed real quick.

"Bobby, no!"

It was too late. The old man launched backwards, dropping Sam back to the floor, his body sailing across the length of the basement. He smashed into the opposite wall, crash landing on his back, where then by some unseen force was dragged up the wooden steps and through the door.

"Bobby!" Dean cried hearing the pained outcries by his mentor. "Bobby NO! Dammit!" He rushed for his brother, desperately picking up the limp figure. "Sammy. Sammy. Come on. Come on. We gotta go. Get up! Come on! Get up!"

There was a loud shriek and something heavy fell on top of his back, squashing him to the floor. It dug its sharp nails into his shoulders and knelt down, sinking its gruesome teeth into his shoulder blade. He screamed long and loud, slinging over both arms to grab for the enemy he could not reach. The thing shook its head like a ravenous wolf, pulling out bits of muscle, the fleshy strings snapping like overstretched elastic bands.

Dean nearly lost consciousness again. The pain elicited by the creature was far greater than he had ever endured. The monster pulled back, taking with it a mouthful of Winchester meat. Instinct forced him to roll over pinning the creature. Taking his gun, he reached back and stuffed the barrel into its mouth and instantly made brain soufflé. The monsters brains splattered out in a fan on the cement, some of its staining the back of his head.

Regaining his breath, he rolled off of it, seeing that it was another Skemie. "Ugh…ow," he mewled placing a hand over the gaping sanguine wound.

Several more blares and squalls sounded. Dean looked up to see more Skemies crawling across the basement ceiling, up and over the rafters, and down the walls. Thinking quick, he rolled Sam over to the foot of Bobby's Panic Room. Despite Sam's protests, he pushed him over the threshold and back into the room.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam's weak voice called.

Dean unheeded the cry. Briefly regretting his decision, he closed the door, twirling the wheel, locking it tight. He closed his eyes, in sadness at hearing his brother's cries for him. He had to do it. He had to keep him safe. And he couldn't leave Bobby and Cass alone to fend off the murderous fiends. He turned back around, facing the oncoming Skemies.

With whatever ammo he had left, he used it up massacring about five or six of the gangly gargoyle-looking things. There were three left. One jumped from the rafters and he bludgeoned it away with the end of his rifle. Another came up tackling him to the ground. He also beat away the measly slimeball. He kicked and punched, fought and struggled, gaining up one in the fight.

However, it all ended when a Rawhead came out of nowhere, taking him by the foot and dragged him away. The last of his brother's cries echoing inside the vault, forever making a brand off his memory.

~o(Supernatural)o~

Castiel fell to the ground with a great "oomph". The archangel swooped down upon him, grabbing his throat. He picked him up and threw him away against the opposite wall. The wall splintered and cracked, the house vibrating at the powerful collision.

Cass shook his head from the dizziness that pervaded his senses. He regained his footing just in time for a beam of lightning to zigzag over his head. Raphael appeared to the front and a whole storm of electrical surges was wrought. He smiled wickedly, his dark eyes glowing sinisterly in the lilac rays.

Bravely against his decision, Cass discreetly pulled out Lucifer's sword. There was no other choice. This was a fight to the death. He saw that now. The archangel was too far grappled in his own revenge than to think solely of his mission. He had to end him.

Scores of wings tumbled through the air. Cass stilled, becoming tense. He knew what that meant. And sure enough, one by one, approximately ten angels or so popped into view, forming a circle all around the room; all having taken up male vessels in business attires. Cass looked to each and every one of them, his heart breaking. He knew them as he was at one time their leader.

It was his garrison, now under the influence and leadership of his one true enemy.

So much for poetics.

He gripped the sword tighter in his hand.

This was a fight to the death.

~o(Supernatural)o~

All Dean knew from the moment the Rawhead dragged his ass away was he was in a world of pain. The stupid bastard hadn't helped with things by dragging him backwards up the wooden steps. That hurt worse than the Skemie bite. He swore his back was still singing soprano.

Back upstairs in what was left of Bobby's livingroom, the Rawhead dropped him by the fireplace. He leapt to his feet when he was assaulted by a nasty bout of dizziness. Unintentionally he took his eyes off the enemy leaning heavily on the chipped mantle.

Something flew and clocked him good in his midriff. The pain wasn't at first sharp, but it soon escalated to a throbbing ache. He looked down and saw that the culprit was a thorn-covered rose protruding from between his ribs. Instantly he took it out, suddenly feeling red-hot warmth issuing from the pinprick. What the hell?

A feminine chuckle echoed.

Dean sank to his knees, the gushing warmth spreading to the lower end of his body. He grabbed his chest, the warmth causing a hitch to form in his breath.

Footfalls sounded close by. Peering up he saw a woman advance from the stairwell. In her own right, she was beautiful, with long straight brunette locks, a tall slender body adorned in a dark leather jacket and black tights and tall boots. Her eyes burned a bright hazel in contrast against a pale pointy face. Honestly, if she weren't some supernatural hitman, he'd probably hit on her.

Obviously she was a witch. If the Rawhead standing in the corner appearing as though waiting on an order wasn't enough to surmise that, then the row of rosebuds attached to her belt surely had to be.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk," the witch gloated in a smooth deep voice. "Of all the things I've heard about the Winchester reputation, I'd have to say I'm a little disappointed."

Dean glared.

She grinned. "Oh don't be that way baby," she chided. "It'll all be over soon. As long as we get what want, no harm no foul."

The warmth acting like a paralysis agent settled in Dean's hips. He fell over twitching unmercifully.

"I know, cheap move right?" She took a rose from her belt and admired it. "But don't worry, its only temporary. It's mainly there to render my enemies helpless so I can do this…"

She lifted a hand and Dean suddenly was suspended in the air. She rotated her hand muttering something out loud. Dean's insides then twisted and churned, a fire unimaginable it felt spreading throughout, charring, boiling. The witch muttered another incantation and he emitted out a heart-stopping scream. His body jerked, the fire shredding his insides to pieces.

The witch bitch lowered her hand and Dean dropped to the floor. He whined, curling into a ball feeling the fire receding a bit. The woman let out a haughty chuckle. "Oh I'm sorry, did that hurt? Well let this serve as retribution for all of my kind slaughtered by the likes of you. It gives me great pleasure to see the Dean Winchester whine and moan like a little bitch at my feet."

Dean spat out a bit of blood. He groaned. "Take a cold shower, will ya lady? Your hard on is giving me the creeps."

The witch glowered. "Cute. I'm sure you always had a gift of that mouth of yours. Let's see you come up with something more pressing to say after this." She lifted her hand again and more harrowing screams erupted from Dean's throat.

~o(Supernatural)o~

"D-d-dean…n-no…"

"D-d-don't…y-ou son of a bitch…n-no."

"W-why D-dean…n-no c-c-come b-back…"

Sam wasn't sure how long he had been calling for his brother. Time in this cellar was irrelevant. He knew that all too well from the time he was trapped inside during demon detox. And he also remembered the silence made it seem worse.

He couldn't believe Dean. Even in his fragile state, he was completely astounded at the brash action of his brother. It was stupid. Reckless. Heroic.

But stupid.

And now he was stuck down here all by himself, with God knows what happening to Cass, Bobby, and his brother. He hated this. He hated this incapacitation. This vulnerability. This helplessness. He needed to help. But how?

Another horrendous cough tore through his chest, the effects of Lucifer's assault beginning to consummate. The tremors ripped throughout his frame with a fury, seething, stretching the muscles to their breaking point. His face turned crimson, his back arched, his fists clenched. The terrible agony chorused all the way across, ending in his toes curling.

He coughed again. "St…stop. Stop," he gasped, scrunching his eyes tight. "Stop! I said stop it right now!"

The pain ceased. The tremors abated. It seemed the beast had momentarily released its claws.

Sam gasped, greedily sucking at the air like an air-born fish. "That's right," he breathed. "Stop it."

The ache dulled and Sam knew then that he was listening.

"Enough is enough," he said out loud. "I've had enough. Now you listen to me you son of a bitch. You wanted me. You got me. Now you're gonna have to live with me…"

He grimaced, thinking hard about what he had to say. "I'm not a dumbass, I know how this is gonna end. It's something I can't escape. But I'll keep fighting and you know why? Because I'm not gonna let my brother die because of you. I'm not gonna let my friends die because of you, of what we created, of what we caused. We started this. Your buddies want me dead. That's old news to me, but I'm done. I don't want to fight no more. We have to end this. So either you can help me…or so help me God, I'll bring you down so hard you'll never even see it coming."

He knew it was a bluff. But that wasn't the point, because, like a lightbulb, he suddenly knew what he had to do. "Good, now that you're listening. I know what's happening, and I know what you're up to. And it's fine. You want out, fine. You can get out. I won't stop you this time. But you're gonna help me first. You do that and I'll let you on through. I swear."

There was silence among his skull. Lucifer was thinking.

"What d'ya say? We have a deal?"

TBC