Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta work. Also thanks to Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for all their help beating out the ideas.

Thank you all for reading, reviewing and supporting the story. I really appreciate it.

Chapter Five

"What do you mean?" Ellen asked in a dead voice from the doorway.

"I mean he'll be back," Dean said. "I can't explain it all now, it's kinda confusing, but I am sure, sure he'll come back." He released Jo and walked toward Ellen and squeezed her shoulder. "Trust me, okay?"

"Did you make a deal, Dean?"

"No," he said quickly. "This isn't me. This is, or will be, the angels."

"You promise me?"

He laid a hand on his heart. "I swear, Ellen, I have not made a deal." He waited, watching the truth sink in, and then he asked, "Where is he?"

"He's in Mom's bedroom," Jo said quietly

Dean wondered why they had put him there and not in his own bed, but from the look on Ellen's face, there was a good reason, so he didn't question it. He just nodded and said, "I'm going to clean him up. I don't want him waking up all bloody."

Ellen nodded and Dean left the room. As he passed Ash's room and went into the kitchen, he heard someone crashing around through the closed door.

It will be over soon, he thought as he carried on into the kitchen.

There was a comprehensive first aid kit under the sink with a large stainless steel bowl they used when they were cleaning wounds. It would serve the purpose Dean had. He took it into the bathroom and filled it with warm water; then he took two washcloths, soap, and a towel from the cupboard and carried everything into Ellen's room. He purposely didn't look at the bed at first, giving himself time to prepare. He set the bowl down on the bedside table and then drew a breath and turned.

Sam was pale and perfectly still. There was no fooling himself into thinking Sam was sleeping. He didn't look innocent or childlike. He just looked dead and it made Dean's stomach roll.

He'll come back, he reminded himself. I just have to wait and he'll come back.

"Won't be a minute, Sammy," he said then left the room and made his way back to his and Sam's bedroom. Their duffels were on the dresser at the end of Dean's bed. He took Sam's and opened it. The clothes were neatly rolled and folded to military precision, just as John Winchester had taught them both as children. He took out clean clothes for Sam, and then went back to Ellen's room.

"I'm here," he said, and then set to work. He unbuttoned Sam's shirt and gently manoeuvred his arms out of it, as if being too rough would hurt him. His skin was cool. Dean wondered how long he had been gone. Time that passed in the future obviously hadn't passed in the same time way as it had here—he hadn't been gone a day. He guessed at minutes. Just long enough for Ellen and Jo to get Sam inside and for their hearts to break.

He set to work cleaning Sam up, washing away the blood and the dirt from the ground where he had lain and drying his skin carefully, leaving no trace of dampness. He was half done when there was a knock on the door. He laid a towel over Sam's chest, covering the damage the bullet had done in case Ellen or Jo wanted to come in, and went to open the door.

Bobby was in the hall. He looked grave and his eyes were a little bloodshot. "Ellen called," he said. "Do you need any help?"

Dean shook his head quickly. He wanted to be alone with his brother to do this. Bobby looked like he had expected the refusal. "You could go see Ash though," Dean said. "Maybe take him a drink."

Looking relieved to have something to do, Bobby nodded and walked along the hall to Ash's room with its Doctor Badass sign.

Dean closed the door carefully and started when he saw the angel standing beside the bed. He was looking down at Sam, his brow furrowed and eyes sad.

"Cas?"

Castiel dragged his eyes from Sam to Dean. "What happened?"

"He shot himself," Dean said, then shook his head briskly. "It's okay though. He'll be fine."

"He will," Castiel agreed.

"Is that why you're here?" Dean asked hopefully. "Are you going to save him?"

"Sorry, no. I do not have the power to do that now. But someone will."

"Yeah. That's what I heard, too."

Castiel frowned. "Heard from whom?"

"It's a long story, Cas, and to be honest, I'd really like to be alone with Sam right now. Ellen and Jo are in the bar and they could probably do with some reassurance from you about Sam coming back."

"Of course. I will speak to them." Castiel passed Dean and went into the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Just you and me again, Sammy," Dean said and resumed his ministrations.

Sam drew a heaving breath, dragging air into empty lungs as his eyes flew open. All he could do at first was breathe, lying on his back, feeling his slower than usual heart-rate build its pace to a gallop. Then sensation came to the rest of his body, fingers tingling and legs cramping, and he bolted upright.

"Sammy!"

Sam's eyes snapped to the side and he saw Dean, wide-eyed and smiling with relief, beside him. "Thank God," he said.

Sam looked down at his chest, noting as he did that he was now wearing a different shirt to the one he had been wearing when he'd gone out to the yard, and patted right above his heart. There was no pain, no tenderness. He was fine.

But he remembered shooting himself. He had a clear memory of pulling the trigger and the absolute peace that had followed. It had happened. Now he was back and that could mean nothing good.

"You're okay," Dean said quickly. "They fixed you right up."

"Who fixed me up?" he asked darkly. "What the hell did you do?"

Dean shook his head jerkily. "It wasn't me, I swear, Sam. It was the angels."

"Castiel?"

"No, he said he couldn't. I actually don't know which one did it. I didn't see them. One minute you were gone, and the next… You're back. Thank God, you're back." His voice shook and he turned away to wipe at his face.

Sam believed him. Dean wouldn't lie to him about this, not now. He swung his legs around to the edge of the bed and stood. Dean was still sitting opposite. He was turned away from Sam, and his shoulders were shaking. Sam felt a pang of sadness for his brother. He had been through so much and Sam just kept piling it on him. It was never his intention. He was trying to make the world better when he did the things that hurt Dean so badly. He couldn't even say he regretted what he had done to make Dean feel like this, because he never did. It had always been worth it. Yellow-Eyes, Ellsworth, Samhain, now his attempt to escape Lucifer, had been for the greater good. And this time it hadn't even worked.

"Shit," he breathed.

Dean looked up at him, his face twisted with pain and relief and Sam reacted instinctively, knowing what Dean needed. He tugged him to his feet and then pulled him into a hug. After a moment's pause—possibly to wrap his mind around what was happening—Dean's hands came up to Sam's back and held him in return. For a long time they clung to each other, and then Sam released Dean and gripped the back of his neck, ducking his head so he was in Dean's line of sight. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done it like that."

"You shouldn't have done it at all!"

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Dean spoke over him. "I know about Lucifer. I get why you did it, but you shouldn't have. We would have known it would do no good if we had spoken to Cas first. All that pain, for all of us, was for nothing."

"You would never have let me do it if you'd known."

"No, I wouldn't. I would have found another way."

Sam smiled sadly, but he didn't argue. Deep down, Dean already knew there was no other way. He didn't need to hear it.

"We should get out there," Dean said. "There are people waiting for you."

Sam knew that, and he knew he deserved whatever they threw at him for what he had done, but that didn't mean he was ready for it. He had hurt people doing what he had, though, and it wasn't fair to them to duck out on the consequences.

He nodded, took a breath, and made for the door. It flew open before he could get there and Ellen marched in. She took one look at him, threw her arms around him and clung to him like she was drowning. Sam returned the embrace for a moment, and then she yanked out of his arms and gripped his shoulders, shaking him hard. "You can't keep doing this to me, Sam!" she growled through the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "You can't keep leaving!"

"I'm sorry," Sam said, and he was sorry for hurting her. He just wasn't sorry for trying to do the right thing.

She shook him once more and then cupped his cheeks in her hands. "I love you."

"I know," he said with a sad smile. "I've always known."

She smiled. "So much, Sam. Remember that next time you get a damn fool idea in your head to leave us."

"I will. I promise."

"Come on," she said. "People are waiting."

Sam glanced back at Dean who nodded, and then he followed Ellen out of the room and into the bar. He felt momentarily overwhelmed as he caught sight of Ash's and Jo's wet cheeks and wide smiles, and Bobby's and Castiel's sombre faces. He wanted to turn back and run, but he couldn't. Dealing with their sadness was the consequence of what he had done, and he had to face it like a man.

He opened his arms to Jo who fell into them. He comforted and apologized again; he accepted Ash's hand on his shoulder and concerned questions. He told them he was okay now, that it was fine, and he was sorry. He said it so many times he felt that he would never be able to say the word again without remembering that day.

Dean watched Sam forcing himself to make it through the reunions with the people who loved him, and he wondered if he was even a little grateful to be alive. He put on a masterful pretence of it, but there was something in his eyes that made Dean think he would have preferred to have stayed gone, and not just because of Lucifer.

When they had all finally greeted him, expressed their anger and relief, Ellen got them all a drink and they sat around the corner table.

"There's a lot we need to talk about," Dean said, locking eyes with Sam, "and I want to start by saying sorry, too."

"Sorry?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

I should have known what you were going to do and I should have stopped you."

"You were sleeping, Dean," Sam said quietly.

"I was, but you wouldn't have missed someone preparing to do it. I shouldn't have missed it either."

Sam shook his head dolefully. "That's crap." He looked from one face to the other and sighed. "All of you, anyone else that is thinking that crap, you're wrong. You didn't miss warning signs. I didn't know myself I was going to do in until a few minutes before I pulled the trigger."

"Why did you do it?" Jo asked.

Sam took a swig of his whiskey and said, "Because I thought it would save the world. I'm Lucifer's true vessel. He came to me in a dream and told me. He was so sure, so damn confident that I would say yes, that he convinced me. I thought the only way to avert what was coming was to die, so I killed myself." He said it without emotion, as if he didn't know the words themselves burned them all.

"It didn't work though," Ellen said. "Thank God. Someone saved you."

It didn't look as though 'saved' was the word Sam would use, but he didn't dispute it.

"It was an angel," Castiel interjected. "Lucifer, Zachariah, Michael himself maybe. They are the ones that benefit the most from Sam being alive."

"Whoever it was, let's just be thankful," Jo said quietly, then she turned to Dean. "Things were pretty messed up, and I didn't see too well, but Zachariah was the one that took you, right?"

"Took you?" Sam frowned. "Took you where? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean said with a fond smile. "And as for where he took me, it's kinda a long story."

Ellen leaned back in her seat and raised the mostly full bottle of whiskey. "We've got time."

Dean nodded, wondering where to start. He thought right at the very beginning was the spot. "You know about Croatoan, right?"

"The virus?" Ellen asked.

"The demon virus that makes people crazy with bloodlust, yeah, that one."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "How do you know about it?"

"Because Zachariah shoved me five years into the future, into a world that was rife with it. People all over were infected, and those who weren't infected were doing their best to keep it from spreading."

"Jesus," Ellen breathed, looking stunned. Dean relished her shock, not out of malice or a desire to tell a good story, but because it was his Ellen and not the hardened hunter she was in that future world—the Ellen who seemed to have been immune to emotions such as shock.

"It was a mess," Dean said redundantly—as if it could have been anything but a mess.

"You must have put up a hell of a fight to get out," Sam said. "I only had to deal with a handful back in the day, and I was very nearly taken out. How did you manage against a world of them?"

"Mostly, I avoided them," Dean said. "Killed one and floored another. Then I got to what you'd call a 'safe' place, and they were kept out."

"Safe place?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "It was an old summer camp. There was a group of 'clean' there." He hesitated, not sure how to say what needed to be said. He redirected. "You were there, Ellen. Jo and Cas, too."

"And me?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked down at the table. "You wouldn't leave your place," he said apologetically. "You didn't make it."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully.

There was a moment's silence, and then Ash spoke and Dean's heart sank. "I didn't either, did I?" When Dean hesitated, he said, "No, it's okay. Not much use for a computer genius at the end of the world."

"And I wasn't there either," Sam stated.

"You were…" Dean drew a breath. "It was different there, Sammy. Things happened."

Sam eyed him shrewdly. "Things like Lucifer?" His face paled. "I was Lucifer, wasn't I? Oh God, I said yes."

Dean flinched away from the horror in his voice. "It's okay. It doesn't mean you will. We know things this time that can help us fight it. You won't say yes this time, I know it."

"That is if you said yes in that time," Castiel said.

"Cas, man, I saw it," Dean said gently, wanting to spare Sam but needing to explain. "I saw Lucifer, and he was Sam."

"I believe that is what you saw, but that doesn't mean it was the truth. Did you see anything else that would make you question whether it was real?"

Dean considered. "Yeah," he said slowly, thinking of Ash, infected but left alive and alone; Ellen and Jo and his future self changed so completely they were like Sam back in the days after their father died. Castiel's outfit and easy manner. "I saw some stuff…"

"Your worst nightmare, yes?"

Dean nodded. "Parts of it, yeah."

"Then I don't believe you saw the real future," Castiel said decisively. "Zachariah showed you what he thought would make you agree to his plan."

Dean felt a wave of relief at his words, and he sighed, an action that was echoed around the room by the others. The only one who didn't look relieved was Sam. He still looked horrified.

"Sam," he said firmly. "It wasn't real."

"You can't be sure of that," Sam replied. "Maybe me saying yes was the one truth of it."

"I don't believe it," Bobby said. "If I had to lay money on any one of us resisting Lucifer, my money would be on you, Sam. You've proven yourself over and over. You died to prevent yourself saying yes. Just because you were brought back, doesn't mean your resolve is any less. If I didn't believe that, I'd be begging you to let me lock you down in my basement."

"We have faith, Sam," Ellen said gently. "You should, too."

Sam looked down at his lap, looking like he wanted nothing more than to flee the room. "I won't say yes," he said, speaking so quietly he had to be addressing himself. "I won't do it."

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. "We know, Sammy. We know."

"You said we know things that can help us," Jo said. "Things like what?"

Dean took a breath and looked at Sam almost apologetically. "In that future, vision, whatever it was, the plan was to use the colt to kill Lucifer."

Sam nodded energetically. "Oh. Wow. Why didn't we think of that?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Obviously, we don't have it, and we have no idea where it is, but that has to be the way. It can kill anything, right?"

"That's the legend," Sam said.

"Hold on," Ellen said. "You say we were going after Satan with the colt in that future, but he was in Sam. We would never do that."

Jo nodded. "She's right. It had to have been made up, because that just wouldn't happen."

Sam's face darkened. "Okay. We need to get this out there now. It doesn't matter if Lucifer is in me or Santa Claus, we get a chance, we take him down. Understood?" When Ellen looked like she would argue, he pushed on. "This is the world. No one's, not a single one of our lives, is worth that."

Jo crossed her arms over her chest. "That's easy for you to say. You're the one that'll be gone. The rest of us will be the ones you leave behind. How is that fair?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not fair. Life's not fair. No one knows that better than us. Doesn't change anything though. It's what we've got to do. There are millions at risk, Jo. One life doesn't outweigh that."

He was right, of course, but Dean hated it. He couldn't lose his brother again. The only solution was for them was to find the colt and take Lucifer down before he had even a chance at getting consent from Sam. Simple. Although of course it wasn't simple. It wasn't impossible though. They would get it done.

Castiel cleared his throat. "I have what might be an alternative solution."

All eyes drifted to him and Sam gestured for him to go on with a wave of the hand.

"God," Castiel said. "Michael at least sees the battle between him and Lucifer as God's will. I refuse to believe my Father would want them to fight when it threatens His greatest creation. I believe if we could just find Him, He could help us."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "And how do we find God?"

"That's the complicated part," Castiel said. "He hasn't been seen in millennia."

Dean sighed. For a moment, it had seemed like Cas's idea could actually work. They had something like a plan to save millions that didn't involve Sam dying, again.

"You said complicated," Ellen observed. "You didn't say impossible."

"There is something that can help me trace Him."

Sam shook his head dolefully. "Okay, and I'm guessing this is a Holy Grail kinda something."

"Not at all. In fact, it is in this room with us. Dean has it."

Dean frowned. "I do?"

"Yes. The amulet you wear as a pendant. That is so much more than jewellery. In God's presence, it burns hot. I need you to let me have it."

Dean laid a hand over the pendant, feeling the cool metal against his palm. It was more than jewellery to him already. It was a physical representation of his childhood with Sam. It was a gift.

"Please," Castiel said.

Dean glanced at Sam who nodded. Of course, he was being stupid hesitating. This could save the world. If Sam was willing to give up his life for it, Dean should be able to at least give up a necklace. His voice was still reluctant as he said, "Okay," though. He lifted the amulet from his chest and unlooped the cord from his neck. He clenched it in a fist for a moment and then held it out to Castiel who took it.

"Just… don't lose it," Dean said.

Castiel nodded solemnly. "I will take the utmost care." He tucked it away in his pocket. "There is one more thing I need to do. You all need protection from angels. There is little I can do, even if I was to stay at your side at all times, but I can do this."

"Do what?" Sam asked.

"Do you remember the sigils that hid you and Anna from me and Uriel?"

Sam nodded. "Sure. They'll stop angels sensing us, right? Go for it."

Castiel looked apologetic. "It is going to hurt."

Sam shrugged. "Pain's nothing new to any of us."

"Very well," Castiel said, leaning over the table and pressing a hand to Sam's chest. Sam hissed with pain and flinched back. With a slight smile, Castiel said, "I did warn you."

Sam laughed softly. "You did. Thanks, Cas."

Lucifer stood in the corner of the bar, watching them with a wide smile curling his lips. They didn't know he was there. He was hidden so completely that not even the other angel could sense him. Of course he couldn't sense them either since the angel had carved sigils into their ribs, but he could see them while he was there.

He had listened to their conversation, and he had laughed silently. They had no idea. Zachariah could show them a dozen futures to scare them, but it would never work. Sam didn't need to be persuaded; it was his destiny to let Lucifer in.

There was no fear in the mention of the colt either. Lucifer would not be killed by it, and though it would hurt if they ever managed to find it and use it, he had suffered more before. It would be nothing compared to being cast into Hell by his own brother.

The room cleared of them all but the older man, the woman and Dean Winchester. Sam himself had gone to clean up the room where his body had lain, a macabre task that Lucifer would have expected from no one else.

"Ellen," Dean Winchester said tentatively. "Did you ever take a picture of me and Sam in here without us seeing."

She smiled sheepishly and walked around the bar. She picked something up and held it out. Lucifer could see it was a framed photograph of the brothers at the table they had just vacated. They were laughing together.

"This one?" she asked.

The older Winchester nodded, looking troubled. "Yeah. That one."

So… So they all made it through this one alive. That's progress right?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx