(Thank you my lovely guest and Lenail125 for the reviews.)

Chapter Eleven

The second Dean parked the Impala in front of Bobby's home his father had slipped out. Sam and Dean exchanged glances and their shoulders drooped. He was going to run. Their father had been good so far staying with everyone, but for sure he'd be gone by the end of the day. Sure enough after about an hour of silence from John's room, Sam opened his father's door to find everything cleaned up and a quickly scrawled note on the bed saying he'd be back. The jerk had even slipped out the window so no one would see him go.

They could have been mad. Curse and shout. Cry and scream. They could have punched at walls, but they knew better. This was how their father dealt with things, and once he was through thinking everything through he'd be back. He always returned.

To be honest Sam wanted to go too. He needed time to himself. He wanted to pull on a pair of sweats and work off whatever was eating at him. Instead he found Dean on the back porch and offered his older brother a beer.

"Where the hell did you find those?" Dean blurted more angry than grateful.

Sam shrugged. "Basement. They're warm, but…It'll help. Maybe not me, but you."

Dean looked at Sam. His brother's muscles were bunched, and his fist curled around the neck of the bottle a little more than needed. Sam was tamping down his own needs for him; so he reached up and took the offered beer without griping. "No run?"

"One of us already has." Sam said coolly. It wasn't meant to be offensive against their father, just fact. "I don't think you need me to go running off as well."

"Thanks." Dean stated his eyes staring off into the lot.

The one word was for everything. For staying, for the beer, and for just being there not saying a word. Dean didn't talk, he thought things through until everything he was thinking about meshed together in one jumbled thought. When he felt up to it he'd casually talk to Sam and figure out where his head was at. As much as he didn't like to talk though he hated being alone much more. He'd recalled sleepless nights for both Bobby and him. Ones where no words were spoken, just Bobby reading at the table, and Dean staring into a cup of coffee. Or nights where Sam and him would sit on the couch and watch stupid diamond infomercials on the crappy, yellow splotched TV.

"No problem." Sam patted the spot between them and Buddy, coming back from his patrols lolled his tongue and sat between the brothers. His head rested on Sam's legs, but Dean reached out absently and ruffled the fur on the dog.

"I'll need to hide the beer again." Dean finally blurted after sitting there for about thirty minutes with his hand tangled in the dog's hair.

Sam shrugged. "If you think you need to." Sam had long since drained his, but hadn't gone back for another. "You know you don't need to hide anything anymore. Besides, I'd like to know that you trust me with a razor, and common household drugs."

"We were-"

"I know." Sam stopped his brother. "And thanks, but I'm good now. Well- I'm a lot better at least."

Bobby came home an hour later and found the boys just sitting on the back porch looking morose. He eyed the bottles of beer and raised an eyebrow at Dean who firmly shook his head. Not now. Bobby shrugged but the look on face was a clear warning that he was going to find out eventually.

"I'll make dinner." Bobby griped. He turned back into the home his complaint muffled through the door. "I work hard on cars all day and I come home to you two loafing around."

Sam smirked. The old man didn't mean it. He just liked to gripe.

xxxOOOxxx

It was midnight and Sam couldn't sleep. He was staring up at the ceiling. For a long time he couldn't; he either slept on his side or on his chest his face buried into the pillow. He was too afraid to see anyone that he cared about on the ceiling. For a week after the incident Sam kept seeing his mother and his girlfriend keep switching off. Then it got worse. Suddenly it was Dean. Dean actually screaming as he became pinned; blood dripping from his opened mouth as he wailed. Every now and again Bobby and John took a turn being tortured in his nightmares.

No, he couldn't think of it. Change the topic. Change whatever was going on in his head. The next obvious bad thought turned to his mother. So many lies. So many questions. Who was she? What was she really like? He knew that was torturing his big brother.

"You think she did it?" He didn't look over but he knew his brother was still awake on the bed next to him.

"Did what?" Despite the drowsiness in his tone Sam knew that Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Make a deal. With the demon…" Sam kept his tone light.

"No!" Dean blurted. "Of course not, besides crossroad demons want to give you an X number of years before they take off with your soul; not slip into the baby's room and cause fires."

"Maybe it wasn't a crossroad demon…"

"Sam!" Dean rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow.

"What if it was for a good reason?"

"What good reason does anyone have to make a deal with a demon?" Dean scowled at Sam even though his little brother wasn't looking in his direction. "Besides she didn't mean it."

"How do you know?" Sam turned to look at Dean. "Besides she clearly said-"

Dean sat up. "She sacrificed herself for us back there Sammy. Don't go painting her in a bad light."

"Not all deals are made to get guitar skills, or get revenge." Sam looked purposefully at his brother. "Sometimes a loved one is sick and won't make it, and they don't think things through before-"

"Well mom would have thought things through." Dean snapped. "She always did. She didn't make a choice without thinking really long and hard on it, so she didn't make a deal."

"Or she made a deal for a good reason." Sam laid back down. "I wouldn't hate her for it, I just want to know."

"Nothing to know Sammy. Goodnight," Dean went back down on the bed but rolled so he faced the wall. His eyes were wide though and his breathing didn't slow. What if his mother had made a deal? What if- No. Now Sam was just getting to him.

xxxOOOxxx

It was early. Way too early. Dean had finally dozed off only feel his brother missing. He wasn't sure when his brother had slipped out, but he pushed himself out of bed to go find the kid. He had felt some guilt afterwards at the way he'd snapped at Sam. The kid being the giant brain he was, was just trying to think things out. Piece together possible options. And he had just snapped. He knew he glorified his mother as this angelic woman who was perfect in every way, but Sam was right. Their mother was a human being. She was a hunter. And in the right situation she possibly could have done something as stupid as make a deal. Dean wasn't going to admit out loud that it was a possibility.

He'd found his kid brother dozed off again his face smashed up against the keyboard of Bobby's laptop. One step into the room though and Sam shot up with a snort, glancing around and muttering.

"Hey chill out there." Dean smirked and held up his hands. "I come in peace."

"What are you doing awake?" Sam smoothed down his hair, and wiped at the edges of his mouth to clear off any drool. "You were sleeping."

Dean shrugged. "Was sleeping. Then I noticed your gigantic ass missing from your bed."

Sam didn't react to the humor. "I wasn't trying to antagonize you earlier. I just- I don't know…I just need to know…"

"I know." Dean said softly. He dropped into the chair in the corner not bothering to move it. "You have the imprint of the keyboard on your face."

Sam moved a hand up to do something but stopped. "I can hardly help it now…" Sam's face lit up in curiosity. "Hey Dean, what was she like? I mean, you've discussed her before, but it's always general things. Do you remember what she was really like though?"

"I was four." Dean shrugged.

"I was six months."

"I dunno, Sam." Dean sighed, he raked a hand across his face. "She was nice, when she wasn't snapping at dad for things. Everyday I'd wake up and get into bed with her." Dean relaxed and his face shed years off in a moment of remembrance. "Dad was always gone by then. Off to work. Mom and I would stay in bed and she'd talk to me, sometimes read. When I was sick she'd always make alphabet soup. She'd get some too and make me pronounce the letters, give her words that began with them and spell silly words. Those were some of my first spelling lessons." His lips twitched up in a smile. "They would have occasional date nights, and she'd ask me for her help. She'd hold up three dresses. I always went for the colorful ones. It didn't matter what she wore, she was always pretty."

"She was beautiful." Sam said. His hand went to pick up a framed photo that he'd place next to the computer. The kid had found it among the other pictures. It was all four of them; crammed together to fit in the frame of the picture. "I mean I always thought she was pretty but-" He'd only seen her in photos. He'd only seen her terror filled face in dreams. But there in the home she was amazing in every way. From the way she'd held herself, the way she spoke, the way her eyes were lit up, and the way she was brave enough to save her family. His mother really had been beautiful from the inside out.

"You know she loved you." Dean chuckled. "She always complained that you were going to be a big baby when you were still in her belly…if she only knew how correct she was." Dean chuckled and crumpled a page off a note pad and bulls-eyed Sam on the forehead.

Sam scowled. "Jerk."

"The second I stepped into the room and Dad lifted me up on the bed with her she looked up at me and introduce me as your big brother. Man her eyes were crazy lit up. She was exhausted, but she was so happy. When we got you home, she showed you off like crazy. And everyone swooned. You had a way with puppy dog eyes long before you were damn aware of them."

Sam remained quiet, his eyes going back to the picture.

Dean didn't stop. "She figured you were going to be smart. You did everything fast. You started crawling before she expected it. She'd put you down and the next second she'd panic because you had slipped away. She always told me that you had such intelligence in your face. I would laugh it off, but she would say that you would examine everything around you. In every new setting you would get quiet and just look at everything. She was so sure you were going to be some brain."

"And then she died…for me." Sam scowled and ran a hand through his hair. "She died because something was coming after children. If she hadn't responded to my crying…"

"Yeah, she died, but you saw what she did in the house. Mom- mom sacrificed everything for everyone. For dad, for me, and for you. If it came down it and she had a second chance at that night, she'd go right back into the nursery and try to save your diaper butt." Dean chuckled but it didn't sound quite so happy. "She- she would do it again in a heartbeat. She was so loving and stubborn like that."

Dean finally slipped into silence, his words had run out.

"I bet she made it to a better place. Whatever that is." Sam believed in a Heaven, and he believed in God. The rules and the technicalities of it he wasn't quite so sure about. It was tough having faith when your dad went around shooting demons, and monsters in the face. The fact that the things of darkness existed, and that so many deaths were caused by such things put so many doubts and questions out there. Whatever the rules of Heaven though he bet his mother made it.

"She was too good not to." Dean agreed softly.

xxxOOOxxx

The moon cast a soft glow on the country side. John dug through his pockets before entering a long standing empty home. The cobwebs he'd cleared earlier that morning from the interior said that the for sale sign out front had been up there entirely too long. As he kicked the door behind him he waved the flask of holy water he'd fished out.

"Oh yeah. Now I'm really scared, Winchester." A dry voice spoke from the center of the empty living room. Bound to a chair in the center of a devil's trap, painted on both celling and floor, was a young man. He was about his boy's ages, except his eyes held more years. A symbol painted in blood sat along the pale underside of the demon's arm, kept the demon trapped effectively in the man. "I've never seen holy water before."

Long shadows flickered and shifted as the candles John had lit in the home to illuminate the otherwise electricity and water deprived home, shifted and moved with the drafts. John didn't worry though. The place was remote and perfect. "I have a few questions for you."

The demon sighed dramatically. "And I thought I was here for some sexy time. Figured all of this was just some kinky foreplay." The demon gave a snort when he saw that John wasn't amused. "What? You are kind of a big deal down there Winchester. You and your offspring. I get with you, and I have total bragging rights."

"Enough."

"Or are you here about your piss poor wife?" The demon chuckled.

John's jaw twitched.

"Oohh, you are." The man shook back his hair from his eyes. A clear pout visible in his dark gaze. "All you sexy hunters are so…heterosexual."

John shook out some of the water in his flask and didn't make a face as the demon gasped and tried to shift away from the water. He was tied down good though so he couldn't move an inch. "I've met quite a few of you cockroaches…never known one of you to be so- so gay."

"What can I say, Hell is a few steps ahead of the human race. Nobody down there cares if you like men, women-" He leered forward. "Both…so long as you do your job. Now if we could get some A/C down there it would be Heavenly."

"I'm not taking down requests." John scowled. "I need to know about a possible deal."

The demon despite his smoking skin laughed. "Oh please. I am protected by contract to not disclose any details. I start blabbing and no one trusts me."

John shut his eyes and shook his head. He was a demon; no one should be trusting him. "I need to know about-"

"Mary Campbell? That piss poor wife of yours." The demon tilted his head up in thought. "Doesn't ring a bell, although I can tell you by the end she was getting some grays. The stress of single parenting a four-year old, a baby, and a pathetic drunk must have done one hell of a number on her."

"About a deal…" John ground out. He didn't need to be reminded how trying he had been at the time.

"You don't listen very well. I don't disclose personal information, and even if I wanted to I wouldn't share those delicious details."

John twitched his lips up and dragged a knife out of his belt. It was wicked looking with a simple wooden handle and a serrated blade. "No you didn't hear me."

"Where did you get that?" For the first time since he'd knocked the demon out, bound it, tied it to the chair, and painted the symbol on the underbelly of its arm; John hadn't seen the demon look so scared. "That doesn't belong to you."

"It does now." John turned the knife in his hands effectively showing the details and instilling more fear in the demon's dark gaze. "You see I was torturing another demon this one time and after I had banished it I went through its belongings. At first I took it because-" John held up the blade in front of his captive's face. The demon flinched away. "Well look at it. It's a pretty sturdy blade. You don't run into knives like these on a regular basis. Imagine my surprise when I pulled it out to defend myself from a demon and it kills the demon. You see all you have to do is stab the knife anywhere on the body and a little flicker of electricity goes through you, and bam your dead."

John trailed the blade on the demon's ear. The demon shivered as the metal made contact. "I mean technically you are already dead. When I mean dead-"

"I know." The demon snapped.

"So you see where this is going. Good. Now let me repeat myself. Was there a deal, with a Mary Campbell or a Mary Winchester?" The demon gave John a glare. "You can take your time and think on the details, but I will warn you, I tend to get a little impatient when I am made to wait."

"I already told you." The demon gritted his teeth and kept his gaze firmly on the blade. "We have a non-disclosure agreement. I start chatting I end up dead anyway."

"That's what she said." John shrugged. He shifted to a little closet in the hall and pulled out the body of an older woman. Her wound had long since stopped bleeding. "I figured I would get a second opinion. Never hurts to check."

"So why should I talk?"

"Well, I figure you have two options." John looked thoughtful. "You have door number one which is you don't tell me anything and I send your ass back to hell." John didn't miss the demon flinch at the thought. "I don't think you want that though. As kinky as the torture might be, I figure that's not the kind of foreplay you're looking for. Then there's door number two which is you tell me what you want to know and the death is quick and relatively painless. One stab."

"Might as well send me back then." The demon looked a little relieved. "I haven't told you anything."

"Oh, but you have." John smirked. "You just confirmed that my wife had made a deal."

The demon thought back and blanched. John could see the gears running in its head.

"Every demon that I torture now, well I have one less question for them now. I don't know how Yellow Eyes is going to feel about that. How do you think he'll feel?" John watched the fight leave the demon. "So, let's go back to the two options."

The demon remained silent as he thought through everything. "And you'll kill me? You'll run me through."

"Give me the information and I stab you." John's lips twitched up. "Do we have a deal?"

The demon scowled at the reference. "It was in the 1970's. She made a deal with-" The demon stopped and flinched. "She made a deal for you."

"For me?" John's mind swam with the thought, in the back of his mind though he tucked away the fact the demon had stopped at just who had made the deal. "Why?"

The demon snorted. "She loved you."

"Why did she make the deal?" John demanded. "What were the parameters?"

The demon hesitated. "You had, died. Her father was possessed and interrupted your steamy night. When you went to defend her from her father, he snapped your neck. Your wife was beside herself. She panicked, when Az- when the demon offered the deal she initially declined, but when she realized her soul wasn't on the line she thought better."

John's eyes lit up. He remembered that night. He'd blacked out and woken up with a crying Mary holding on to him tight, and her father dead. He had been stabbed. At the time John was too worried about her to think about where she had gotten the knife. He didn't think too much about how her mother was conveniently dead as well. "What was the deal? What did she promise?"

"He wanted permission to enter her home years later."

John inhaled sharply. The night she'd died. The night of the fire. He thought back to his wife's shimmery form as she stood before her husband and grown sons. "I invited him in. I couldn't stop that night." She had given the demon the green light to enter his son's bedroom. "Did she know? What did he do that night?"

"That wasn't a part of the deal that night." The demon lamely stalled.

"Tell me." John snapped.

The demon leered forward. "I don't know if you intend to honor your deal or not. I get sent back to hell anyways and yes, I get tortured and killed. I tell you that and I would wish I was killed."

John collected himself. He wouldn't get that from the demon. He'd be stubbornly quiet. "Very well, you've told me everything then?"

"Yes."

"One last question?" John asked. "Who was the deal made with?"

A bitter laugh came from the demon. "Once again…I tell you-"

"And you'd wish death upon yourself." John nodded. "Let me tell you this, I'll kill you. Only because you've been so nice and told me already." John flicked the blade in his hand. "Azazel." John smirked. He hadn't missed the fact that the demon had started with the dealer's name, and cataloged his violent reaction when he mentioned it out loud. "The Scapegoat."

"How-?"

"You just confirmed that I was correct…" In one motion John stabbed the knife forward into the man's chest and red electricity shot through the wound and trailed through the body. A single shudder went through the demon and his head lolled forward the young man's eyes now open and dead.

(If you maybe liked it then leave a review or drop me a PM. Love hearing from you about how I'm doing. And once again, you got any ideas I'll see if I can fit them in.)