(The rest of this fic assumes that Sam never told Dean the whole truth about his summer with Ruby. Because we only see what Sam told Dean and not what really happened)

Loki knew when Dean died, it was all over angel radio. The angels buzzed about it, calling out that the Righteous man had fallen. Loki stood still for a moment and breathed. All according to Michael's plan. Loki knew it was going to happen. Well, Gabriel knew it was going to happen. But Loki hadn't been Gabriel for a very, very long time.

Loki bid his time, keeping an eye on Sam Winchester; who hadn't called him in months. But that was okay, Loki wasn't looking to be forgiven. Not after hardening Sam to his Brother's death. Or trying to harden Sam to it. Because that part was inevitable. Dean chose to die in a year, but now it was Sam's turn to make some choices. And Loki wanted to make sure he would make some good ones. Knowing Heaven, They would bring Dean back. He just had to keep Sam stable until.

Sam moved into an apartment and mourned, hiding himself away from the world. It was pretty unbearable, watching Sam fumble around, as if he was blind. Drinking and crying over Dean's death. And when he wasn't incapacitated with alcohol he was digging into archives of books, websites, ANYthing. To raise the dead; to bring someone back from Hell. Sam rarely put anything to his mouth that wasn't a bottle. Loki gave him a week before he knocked on the apartment door. Sam just didn't learn lessons, Loki shook his head. It was embarrassing.

Loki knocked again before he finally heard movement. It sounded like a cot squeak and a grunt. So Loki encouraged the movement with a shave-and-a-haircut knock. Finally there was boot shuffling and the door opened. Sam stood there, raggedy and worn. He looked like he'd been dragged through a rock pit and his whole body tensed when his eyes focused down at Loki.

"Hey, Kiddo." Loki gave an easy smile and next thing he knew, Sam was pulling out a sawed off shot gun from behind the door and Loki's shirt and jacket were spattered with rock salt and Loki blinked his eyes hard, having gotten some in the face as well, "Okay, ow, in the face?" Sam's face was red with rage and he dove for his bag on the table, which was full of ammunition. Loki rubbed the rock salt out of his eyes and saw Sam coming towards him with the blood soaked stake. Loki caught Sam's wrist and shoved Sam down onto the nearby cot. Sam struggled and kicked and screamed, but Loki held him down, not budging an inch.

"Damn it! I'm going to kill you!" Sam snapped, baring his teeth like some wild dog, "Get off of me!"

"I didn't come here to be staked, Sam." Loki pressed his body to Sam's and looked to the door, which closed with his will and Sam was bucking and wiggling, trying his best with his human strength to move. Sam arched up, snarling in anger and Loki flicked the stake out of Sam's fingers with his thumb. Loki could smell the booze on him, and well, if Loki wasn't so powerful, Sam could very well be a threat. Even while intoxicated.

The burst of energy drained out of Sam and he was left huffing and puffing, which was less erotic when Sam was pissed off and trying to kill him, "I hate you." Sam nearly spat in Loki's face from his venom, "I hate you." Loki smiled a bit, ignoring the jab. Well, what had he expected after killing Dean and pushing maybe a bit too far. Still hurt though.

"Yeah, I know." Loki looked down at him.

"I hate you!" Sam struggled again, but this time it was more weakened and Sam shut his eyes tight, squeezing out tears, "You killed Dean over and over again and you brought him back just as many and you couldn't do it the one time it mattered! I never want to see you again!" He lost his energy faster this time and opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face. Loki grimaced. Really, now that was intolerable. Loki released Sam's hand and brushed away one of the streaks of salt water. The only thing he got for his effort was a knife in his side and a stoney glare from Sam. Loki's surprise melted away and he sighed. He rested his hand over Sam's on the handle and he tugged it out, covered in blood. It was Sam's turn to looked surprised.

"Not a demon, Sam." Loki told him, "And Dean was going to die because you were brought back." Sam's eyes welled up, dropping the demon knife on the bed, both their hands smeared with blood.

"I didn't ask to be brought back." Sam garbled, voice wet and shaky, "I didn't ask him to die for me. I didn't ask to watch him die..." Loki squeezed Sam's hand and Sam's eyes fixated on Loki, pleading for help. He looked lost and scared and it was absolutely pitiful. Loki didn't think Sam knew that he was always asking for help with those pools of sea water.

"I know." Loki properly brushed away more tears from the other side of Sam's face, "What can I say. People like to have you stick around." Sam made a tight hiccuping noise, more tears dribbling down his face.

"Dean's dead." Sam mumbled and Loki pet his hair.

"I'm sorry." Loki cradled Sam's head with his arm and Sam pressed his face into Loki's neck, his long arms winding around Loki's chest and hugging him tight. Sobs into Loki's shirt made Sam tremble and Sam was still murmuring, 'I hate you's and 'just die and leave me alone's. Loki brushed them off. Sam was drunk and bitter. Loki pressed a kiss to Sam's head when Sam's murmurs died down and he just squeezed Loki, as though he was trying to make Loki stop breathing, "I'm not going anywhere, Kiddo. Relax." This started a new wave of tears and sobbing. Loki sighed and pressed his fingers into Sam's hair and sending the man to sleep; he needed it. Sam went limp and Loki brushed his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Let's see if I can really piece Humpty-Dumpty back together again, huh?" Loki smiled fondly at the young Winchester, "Maybe you can't function on your own. That's fine. But you've got to trust me on this Sam. You have to let him go. Just for a bit." Maybe Sam could make do with a trickster-dependent instead of a brother-dependent. Sam had already gotten so close to him, Loki didn't see why he couldn't help Sam though the worst of it. He was going to at least try.