Hugs and squishes to Jenjoremy for the fabulous beta job, and to Gredelina1 and SandraEngstrom2 for all the help getting the chapter outlined.

Chapter Twelve

The news that God wasn't going to help them changed each of them in different and devastating ways. As soon as he had delivered them back to The Roadhouse, Castiel disappeared and didn't come back. Dean didn't pray to him, as he understood how the angel felt. He had once been abandoned by his father, too. Though John had just left Dean behind, God had forsaken the world as a whole. Ellen reacted by clinging to them all desperately. She seemed to have given up all hope and her only method of dealing was to love them while she still could. Sam dealt with it the only way he knew how—by withdrawing into himself. He spent days in the corner of the bar, drinking whiskey and staring down into the depths of his glass. Sometimes Dean would sit with him, sharing the silence and wishing he knew the words to comfort.

After a week passed, Dean realized he needed to do more than offer helpless comfort to the people he loved. He needed to help other people, too. He woke the next morning with renewed vigor and went straight to the laptop to begin his search. When Sam came into the room, he saw what Dean was doing, but other than raising an eyebrow, he didn't comment.

He was sitting and sipping coffee in silence when Dean came across something that looked hopeful. There had been a spate of unusual deaths in the Nebraska City area. With Ash's help, he found the PD files and autopsy reports. By the time he had printed out the pertinent evidence of something hinky, Sam had set himself up in the bar with a bottle. Dean went to sit with him and said, "I've found us something."

Sam looked up slowly and Dean tried not to react to the expression of defeat he wore. "What?" he asked tonelessly.

Dean slid the printouts across the table to him. "A hunt."

Sam glanced down at the autopsy photo on top and shrugged. "What's the point?"

"The point? Saving people, Sam. I think there are vampires in the city. People are dying."

"Everyone is dying, Dean," Sam said disinterestedly. "The world is going to burn."

Dean leaned over the table and gripped Sam's wrist hard. "Not if we keep saying no."

"You really believe that?" Sam asked, sounding only mildly interested in the answer.

"Yes," Dean said firmly. "I do."

Sam looked down at his drink again and said, "You need this, don't you?"

Dean thought Sam needed it more, but he knew that Sam would be more amenable to helping if he thought this was about giving Dean what he needed instead of the other way around. Sam usually gave Dean what he needed.

"Yes."

Sam pushed aside his glass and pulled the papers over to him. He flipped through them for a minute and then set them down again. "It's not vampires."

"It's not?"

He shook his head. "No bite marks. I think it's a djinn. The location matches up to what I know about them. The bodies have been found in dumpsters in the industrial district, right? That's not usually vampire territory. It's djinns'"

Feeling a little stupid, Dean said, "So we're taking it?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. We'll take it." He stood and carried his bottle and glass to the bar. He set in down and nodded to Ellen who was cleaning the taps. "We're heading out," he explained.

"Where to?" Ellen asked anxiously.

"The city. We won't be gone long."

"You'll be careful." It wasn't a question; it was a command.

"I always am," Sam said, turning away and walking through the door to the back.

Ellen shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "You're not."

"Don't worry," Dean reassured her. "I'll take care of him."

She smiled sadly. "I know you will, honey."

It was only a matter of hours later that Dean had to admit that he had failed not only Sam but Ellen, too.

Sam had drunk enough whiskey to be unsafe to drive, so Dean took the wheel while Sam stared moodily out the window. Dean had hoped that doing something other than sitting in the bar drinking would make a difference in Sam, but he had been wrong. The location changed, but the oppressive mood didn't.

Even though they were only an hour out of The Roadhouse, they checked into a motel when they reached the city to give them a base to work from. Sam set up the laptop at once and started searching maps for the location of the discovered bodies while Dean made a trip to a butcher to get the lamb's blood. He got back to the motel to find Sam sharpening a hunting knife. There was another in a sheaf beside him. He looked up at Dean and said, "Get it?"

Dean held up the paper sack and nodded.

"Good. I figure we wait till dark and then head out. We'll be less likely to be seen if we go in at night. There will be fewer people around."

He turned his attention back to the knife he was sharpening. Dean sat on the chair opposite him and just watched, mesmerized by the action of the whetstone sliding along the blade with a zip-zip sound. It brought back memories of the times he had seen his father doing the same thing. He had worn the same concentrated expression Sam wore now. Thoughts of his father made him sad. He wished he was there still, advising and helping them. Though perhaps it was better he wasn't. Bobby had said Sam needed him for blame, but Dean knew better. John Winchester's blame would break Sam even further than he already was. Their father might not understand that Sam was striving for salvation when he destroyed.

His mind drifted to Ruby. He had been consciously blocking thoughts of her since she had been killed by Castiel, but now he let himself remember and feel his own culpability in what had happened. He had been the one to bring her into their lives. If he had sent her away the moment he realized what she was, as Sam had wanted him to, she would never have gotten her claws into Sam. There would have been no demon blood, no psychic powers. Sam would never have delved into that part of himself and Lilith could never have been killed. The world would not be careening toward its end. Sam would not be carrying the fate of humanity on his already burdened shoulders. Dean felt the need to apologize for his part in it, but he knew Sam would never accept it. All that would happen would be that it remind him of what had happened—as if that could ever really leave his thoughts.

"You okay?" Sam asked, and Dean dragged himself out of his distraction to nod.

"Yeah, fine."

Sam eyed him for a moment and then turned his attention back to the knife.

There was no feeling of impending doom as they approached the warehouse. Dean was almost excited about the hunt. The adrenaline was buzzing through his veins and he felt ready. He had no idea of what was to come.

They parked the Impala in an old lot a couple of blocks away from the warehouse they suspected the djinn was in so as not to arouse the suspicion of anyone passing. There were still working factories in the area and the last thing they wanted was someone investigating their presence.

Sam took the lead into the warehouse, Dean close behind him, bloodied knife gripped tightly in his hand. They came into a cavernous room and looked around. The only light came from streetlight through windows set high on the walls, and it was hard to see anything. Sam pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it so the lit screen illuminated the room. Dean saw the footprints in the dirty floor at once, leading to and away from a door on the other side of the room.

"See that?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

They walked side by side across to the door on the opposite side of the room on hunter's feet. Dean could hear Sam's shallow breaths in the quiet and wondered if he was thinking of the last time he had come up against a djinn, or perhaps he was thinking of the factory shooting. Whichever it was, he was obviously not comfortable. Dean wanted to say something to reassure, but no words came to him that didn't seem pointless; Sam didn't accept reassurance easily.

The door creaked as it opened, and Dean held his breath, almost certain the djinn was going to attack at any moment. Nothing happened though, and after a moment, Sam started down the stairs in front of them, holding his phone in front of him to light the way.

Dean was expecting to see the djinn when they reached the small room at the bottom of the stairs, but there was no sign of it. There was no victim either. His senses alert and ready, he heard the shock and strain in Sam's voice as he suddenly called Dean's name. At almost the same moment Sam spoke, Dean felt a sharp pain as something collided with the back of his head. His legs crumpled and he fell to the floor.

Sam started toward him and then froze in place, his eyes widening with horror. Two people stepped out of the corners of the room, black eyes fixed on him and wide smiled curving their mouths. They didn't seem to be what was scaring Sam though. His gaze was directed behind Dean. With immense effort, Dean turned and saw a man standing behind him. He was unremarkable looking except for the power he radiated. Dean didn't need Sam's exclamation of the name to tell him who he was.

"Lucifer!"

"Sam," Lucifer said, almost fondly.

Dean struggled to his feet, planning to throw himself between Sam and the archangel as if that could help, but at that moment something cracked him around the head again and he fell forward, his cheek hitting the floor as consciousness left him. His last garbled words were, "Run, Sam."

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he made for his unconscious brother. His only fear in that moment was that Lucifer wasn't there for him but for Dean. He could handle anything but that. He couldn't lose him. His thoughts were a rush of, 'Not him, no, no, please not Dean.'

Arms caught him around the chest and held him back. He was so overcome with worry for his brother that he didn't even think to hurt or exorcise the demon holding him. He just struggled pointlessly.

Lucifer smiled benevolently. "Don't worry, Sam," he said. "Dean will be just fine. I will even fix his fractured skull as a gesture of good will." He bent and pressed two fingers to Dean's temple. Dean's eyes rolled and he moaned Sam's name, but Lucifer shook his head. "Not yet." He touched Dean again and Dean stilled.

Lucifer stepped over Dean and walked towards Sam. "It's good to see you again, face to face as it were. We have a lot to talk about."

"No!" Sam growled.

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "I haven't asked a question yet."

"No," Sam said again.

Lucifer looked amused. "Yes, Sam. Before I am finished with you, it will be yes."

"Never."

"Soon," Lucifer replied.

Sam ignored him and fixed his eyes on Dean, watching his steady breaths move his back, finding comfort in the movement despite the dire situation.

"I can see you're distracted," Lucifer said, sounding annoyed now. "Let's go somewhere a little more equipped for our needs."

"I'm going nowhere with you," Sam snarled.

Lucifer laughed softly. "I am sorry, Sam, but you really don't have a choice."

Sam struggled but the hands holding him were strong and Lucifer was reaching for him. With a cool touch to his forehead, Lucifer sent Sam into unnatural sleep.

When Sam woke, he was blinded for a moment. His eyes quickly adjusted and he saw he was in a large room with a spotlight trained on him. He felt tightness around him and he looked down to see leather straps around his torso. Attempts at movement told him his ankles were bound too. His arms were out at his sides and held in place. He looked to them and saw the edges of what looked like a cast iron pentagram, similar to the one he had once seen Alastair bound to.

Behind the light, amused voices spoke observations that he was awake at last. A woman stepped toward him, her back lit seraph-like but her black eyes betraying what she truly was. She was dressed in purple and black and her smile was wide. "Sammy Winchester," she said cheerfully. "It's been a while."

Sam didn't recognize her, but he had suspicion of who she was which was confirmed as she brought a hand to his throat and ran a finger over the silver scar. "Some of my best work right there."

"Meg," Sam growled.

"Hey! Good to see you awake again. Last time you were too busy being brain-dead to chat."

Sam had suspected for a while that she was the demon that had tried to kill him when he was in the hospital after Samhain. He hated her more than ever for what she had done, putting Dean through that.

Smiling smugly, Sam reached for her core and squeezed his hand into a fist. Something was wrong though. The power he always felt when doing it didn't come. He strained against the block but it was like pushing against a brick wall. No matter how hard he tried, nothing happened.

Meg laughed. "No, no, Sammy. No exorcising for you."

"What have you done to me?"

"Not me," she said. "This is all down to Lucifer. See, we knew you'd be a pain in the ass exorcising your guards, so he cooked up something special. You're warded." She traced a finger over the leather that held him and he saw it was etched with unfamiliar symbols. "Clever, right?"

Sam glared at her, impotent and enraged.

"Yep," she said, "the boss is a genius."

"He's a monster," Sam growled. "Just like you."

"Oh, no, he's not like me. He is a master and I am his devoted."

"Just like you were for Yellow-Eyes, right? Remember what I did to him? I am going to make it so much worse for your new boss."

She laughed cruelly. "You wish. You're going to be his meat suit. He's going to take you over and the world will burn."

"Never going to happen."

"Oh, it will," a voice said from behind the light. Lucifer was back. He stepped into view and Sam looked into the face of the being he hated.

"What did you do to Dean?" he asked at once.

"Nothing," Lucifer said. Sam looked doubtful and Lucifer went on. "I promise you Dean is fine. I am not lying. I will never lie to you, Sam. You and I are above deception."

"Sure," Sam said. "You're as honest as the day is long."

"To you I am," he said. "Always."

Sam shook his head. He knew what Lucifer was trying to do and he wouldn't be fooled. He hoped, though, that in this instance that Lucifer was telling the truth. Dean had to be okay.

"You misunderstand me, Sam," Lucifer said. "I am not the villain."

Sam scoffed. "Sure you're not."

"I'm not." He sighed. "Do you know the story of my Fall?"

"I'm familiar with it," Sam said.

"Then you know the crimes I am accused of are nothing compared to my punishment."

"Yeah?" Sam said sardonically. "You made Lilith because you were lonely, right?"

"I was lonely. I had lived among my brothers for eons and then I was cast out. You know why?"

"You rebelled," Sam said.

"No, I refused to bow to insignificant beings. My Father created your kind, you… abominations of His power, and He asked us to place you higher than Him. I would not do it. I loved my Father. I loved Him too much. You can relate, I am sure. You loved your father, too."

Sam didn't speak. He would not discuss John Winchester with this thing.

"In some ways your father was better than mine," Lucifer said grudgingly. "He loved you enough to save you. Mine cast me out for refusing to obey a flawed command." He shook his head sadly.

"Yeah, he's a deadbeat," Sam said. "I learned that the hard way recently."

"Yes?" Lucifer asked. "How did he disappoint you?" He considered for a moment. "Ah, I see. You thought He would clear up your mess? No, Sam, He will not rouse himself for this fight. He has forsaken the world as easily as He forsook me."

Sam stared him in the eye, hazel meeting blue, and he tried to put all his loathing and fury into his glare. "Do what you came to do," he said. "I am done talking."

Lucifer shook his head, looking sad. "I didn't want it to come to this, you know. I hoped I would be able to speak to you reasonably. You are too full of anger and hatred though. I understand it. You have been ruined by the life you have lived. I am sorry for this, Sam, I truly am, but you have left me no choice." He turned to Meg. "Do what must be done."

Meg smiled gleefully. "Thank you."

Lucifer looked at Sam one more time, and then disappeared with a flutter on the air.

Meg looked at Sam and smiled cruelly as she extracted a wickedly sharp looking knife from her pocket. "You're mine, Winchester."

Sam didn't make a sound, not even when she pressed the knife to his chest and drew it down, cutting through his skin like it was wet tissue paper. He merely closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain and Meg's laughter. He would not give her the satisfaction of reacting. He would hold out until Dean came, because he would. Sam trusted in his brother to save him.

"Ellen!"

The sound of her name being bellowed ripped her from sleep and she bolted upright. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she had imagined it or not, then the shout came again and she knew it was real. She lurched to her feet and ran toward the voice on bare feet. She came into the bar and saw Dean standing in the center of the room. His hands were in his hair, tugging on the strands, and his eyes were wild with panic. Ellen felt her heart clench in response. He was alone.

"Ellen!" he shouted her name, turning on his heel, as if he hadn't even registered her presence in the room.

"I'm here." She grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. "What's happened?"

Dean's wide eyes fixed on her, his pupils dilated, and he started to babble, "It was a trap. I didn't know. We didn't know. We thought it was a djinn, but when we got there they were waiting for us."

"Where's Sam?" she asked desperately, though she thought she already knew the answer.

"They knocked me out," he went on in a rush of words. "I couldn't do anything. When I woke up, I was alone. They were gone. He was gone. I looked, but there was nothing. I don't know where they've taken him."

Ellen's knees felt weak. She swayed and a hand steadied her. She glanced to the side to see Ash beside her. She hadn't even registered his arrival, or Jo's, as she now saw her walking toward Dean and pulling him into a hug.

Dean's arms remained limp at his sides, and after a moment, Jo released him. "He's gone," Dean said weakly.

Ellen marshaled herself and shook her head briskly, shaking away the oppressive panic that was trying to overwhelm her. "Who was it?" she asked.

Dean just stared down at the floor, his mouth moving but no discernible words audible.

"Dean!" she snapped, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him again. "Who took him?"

"Demons," Dean said quietly, his eyes rising to meet hers. "Demons and Lucifer."

She gripped his shoulders tighter to support herself as the horror settled over her. Tears burned in her eyes and slid down her cheeks when she blinked. "No!"

"Yes," Dean said.

Ellen fell forward and Dean caught her in his arms. Her head fell onto his shoulder and she quickly dampened his shirt with her tears. Dean shushed her and cradled the back of her head in his hand as she fell apart. She hadn't felt this measure of grief since the day she said goodbye to Sam as he lay on that dirty bed in a cabin in Wyoming after he had shot himself to rid them all of Yellow-Eyes. After she had left with Bobby, she had managed a few miles before losing control completely. Bobby, practically a stranger to her then, had held her as she cried for her boy, just like Dean was now.

Sam was dead. No, dead would have been better; death would have given him peace. With Lucifer, Sam would have no peace. He was gone and he hadn't said goodbye. "He promised," she choked.

"He had no choice," Dean said in a strained voice. Her absolute devastation seemed to have strengthened him. He was calmer now, in control, while she felt every atom of her world being torn apart.

"Here, Mom," Jo said. Ellen straightened to see Jo proffering a glass of amber whiskey. Ellen took it from her and took a slug, feeling the burn as it hit her throat.

"What are we going to do?" Jo asked. "How do we get him back?"

Ellen looked at her daughter and a wave of helplessness swept through her. She didn't have an answer to give. Not even Sam would know what to do in this situation if it was one of them that was gone, and he was the best of them. The truth was there was nothing they could do until they had a way to end Lucifer, and they hadn't discovered a way to do that yet.

When no one answered, Jo's voice became strident. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Jo," Dean said sadly. He reached for her but she stepped back, out of his reach.

"You can't give up!" she said, her voice rising. "Where's Castiel? He has to help us!"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I called him but he didn't come."

Anger rushed through Ellen. "The hell with that," she said. "He owes us." He was part of the reason the world was burning. He and his brothers had set the world up to fall. He could have helped stop Sam killing Lilith if he'd came to their side sooner. He'd known what would happen, but he hadn't stepped in till the last moment, when it was too late. She raised her eyes and voice. "Castiel!"

There was no answering voice, no flutter of wings. The room remained devoid of angels.

Dean cursed and raised his own voice to join Ellen's plea. "Cas, we need you! Sam needs you." His voice broke. "Lucifer has him."

"Lucifer has Sam?" The voice came from behind them. Ellen spun and saw Castiel standing in the doorway to the living quarters. The angel radiated defeat. She would have been concerned for him in any other instance had it not been for Sam's fate. She didn't care that the angel was hurting; she only cared for her son.

"They tricked us and he took him," Dean said.

Castiel looked desolate. "Then it is over."

"No!" Jo said harshly. "It's not. We're getting him back."

"How?" Castiel asked, his tone gentler than Ellen had ever heard from him. "We cannot fight Lucifer. Gabriel will not help us. God has refused us. We're without a weapon or way."

"But it's Sam," Jo said plaintively.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, "Lucifer's vessel. If he has Sam, it's only a matter of time before the end."

"No," Ellen growled. "Sam will never say yes. He will be strong."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Sam is perhaps one of the strongest people I have ever known, but man can only take so much. Sooner or later, he will break and say yes. Michael will take Dean, and from there the battle will commence."

"I will never say yes," Dean vowed. There was no doubt in his tone.

Castiel looked at him sympathetically. "Man can only take so much, Dean."

"You're wrong," Ellen said. ""My boys are strong. They won't give in."

She was certain of it. Sam would sooner die a thousand deaths than say yes to Lucifer. He would be strong until they got him back. And they would. They had to.

So… Some dark stuff coming up now. Stay tuned for more.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx