A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in posting this one. Life happens and when I sat down to write again I found that the boys weren't being cooperative…or perhaps it was the demons not cooperating. Not sure. I just know that they were screwing with me. :/ Hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. A little more angst but again, gotta happen at some point. I promise there is a REASON behind all this angsting and all will become clear as the story unfolds. For those of you who made the comment that Eddie deserved more than what happened last chapter, the first paragraph of this one is just for you.

As always, comments are love and help encourage me. ^_^ Thank you ever so much to all those who have commented so far. You ALL rock.

Sam and Dean headed out for the warehouse after making sure their friends were tucked safely away again and the intrepid kidnapper had learned the valuable if painful lesson that one should be careful what houses they break into. Dean had argued for what he felt was a suitable punishment, namely breaking both the guy's arms and potentially setting him on fire in the backyard while Sam had simply handed Cas back to Bobby and then turned to punch Eddie hard enough to send a molar skittering into one of the bookshelves. Neither of the other hunters could bring themselves to protest the action though Dean did argue that his brother should have aimed for something lower and more closely resembling a vital organ.

The drive to the warehouse had been filled with an angry silence and Dean glanced worriedly over at his brother as they pulled up across the street from their destination. Sam's jaw was set in a tight line and his eyes were glued straight ahead but it was obvious his mind was anywhere but there. Dean couldn't blame him, he had been pretty pissed off about what had happened to Cas too, but the angel was ok and things for them were about to get a lot more dangerous. He needed Sam's head to be in the game. "Don't worry about it, Sammy," he said in his best 'big brother' voice, "We'll find this SOB and send his ass straight back to hell with an express ticket." When Sam didn't answer Dean's brow furrowed in worry. "Sam? Come on, man, don't start the silent treatment on me now."

Sam sighed through his nose and looked over at his brother. Dean couldn't remember when the little kid who used to follow him everywhere had turned into the angry young man before him but there was no doubt that Sam wasn't a child anymore. They had both been through too much to maintain that kind of naiveté. "I'm just sick of this shit, Dean," he said in a quiet tense voice that left Dean feeling like there was a whole world of something ugly pent up behind it. He was almost afraid to see what would happen if Sam let it out. "How long are we supposed to keep doing this? I'm tired of being heaven's bitch boy. I mean, how many damned leaks in hell are we gonna have to plug before demons stop finding ways to escape?" The young Winchester went quiet again and looked out the passenger window toward the warehouse beyond. A company logo proclaiming the building as having once belonged to 'Templeton Industries' was still barely visible on the outside wall written in swirling red paint that had long since begun to peel and fade. There wasn't any sign of demons but that didn't mean they weren't still around. Sam's stomach clenched as he thought of Castiel being brought to that place with its mildewed walls and cracked cement. It was one thing for the angel to have to come here as an adult, he and the Winchesters had been in much worse places, but as a child there was something helpless and lost about Cas that stirred up every protective instinct Sam had.

There had been a time before things got too complicated when he and his brother had driven across the whole country helping people who couldn't defend themselves. He mused that perhaps that was why he felt so strongly about his friend's situation. Cas had become the very embodiment of every person he'd ever cared about and failed to save, every innocent who had cried out for his protection only to be let down, and Sam couldn't bear that happening again. Especially not since the person he was trying to protect was the same one who had fought his way through hell itself to save him. When everyone but Bobby and his brother would have walked away, Castiel, an angel of the lord, one of the most pure creatures in existence, had risked himself to pull the demon-blood tainted abomination that was Sam Winchester out of the pit and Sam wasn't about to let him down now that their roles had been reversed.

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said, cutting into his brother's thoughts, "but what choice do we have? We can't just let 'em turn Cas into a lunchable."

"Not gonna happen," Sam whispered.

"Sam. Don't do anything stupid in there, ok? Promise me." Dean watched his brother closely. The intensity on Sam's face was disconcerting and Dean worried that his brother might be a lot more damaged than he'd originally thought. They had been hunting together for the last year and he hadn't noticed anything too out of the ordinary about the younger man but if he was honest with himself, he knew he had been all to happy to accept that without question. No one sees the horror of the abyss without being changed to some degree but Dean hadn't pressed and Sam hadn't offered. On some level he hadn't wanted to know what his little brother had suffered because he knew what had awaited him there in the darkness and didn't want to think of his Sammy that way. He didn't want to know if Sam had broken on the rack like he had, if he had stepped down and taken up the whip, because it would mean looking at his little brother through different eyes and that prospect terrified him more than anything Alastair had ever put him through. Sam turned and looked at him and then climbed out of the car without another word. "SAMMY!" Dean called out as the door slammed in his face, "God DAMMIT." He hurried out of his own seat and rushed to catch up to his brother who was already approaching the warehouse door, drawing his knife as he went.

Sam pulled to a stop right in front of the entrance, his hand hovering over the knob, and then looked back again at where Dean stood eyeing him warily. The anger had drained some from the younger Winchester's face. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't know what got into me. I'm just…I'm just tired." Sam ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, willing down the rage that he could feel pushing up from inside. Dean's hand landed on his shoulder and when he opened his eyes it was to meet his brother's steady gaze.

"I know, Sam," Dean said quietly, "I am too." A whole world of communication passed in those few simple words but neither brother had to say anything else. It was unspoken that Dean would always be there for him without question and he knew as well that his brother was the only other being in the world who understood what he meant by 'tired'. Sam offered his brother a sad smile and Dean replied with a bolstering grin. "Now let's cut this Hallmark shit out and go kill some demons. Then we can go get some icecream afterwards."

Sam chuckled. "I'm not five any more, Dean. You don't need to take me out for icecream."

"Who said it was for you?" Dean said indignantly, "I want icecream."

Sam snorted in disbelief but as he followed Dean into the cool darkness of the warehouse there was a smile spread over his face regardless. As the door shut behind them and their eyes began to adjust to the dim light, the brothers could make out the shapes of long abandoned storage racks bolted into the walls on either side of the vast expanse they had stepped into. They found themselves standing atop a concrete plinth a good five feet above the rest of the warehouse floor and steps descended away from them a few feet ahead. A row of dark windows marked the offices at the back of the room. It was toward these that Dean began to slowly creep, his gun at the ready. The first proved to be utterly empty as was the second but just as he was about to decide Eddie had lied to them he heard the almost inaudible shuffle of feet from within the third office. The shades had been drawn on the room to keep the brothers from seeing what was inside but Dean had no doubts at all that any demons in the area were well aware of the hunters' presence. He glanced back at Sam and without a word his brother moved to the other side of the doorway. Sam gave a curt nod to indicate he was ready and in the next second Dean kicked the door in, tucking into a roll and coming up in the opposite corner of the office. He was met with only darkness and silence. Sam flicked on the light just inside the doorway and both brothers took in the stark barren room they found themselves in.

There was no sign of demons and no places for them to easily hide since most of the furniture in the room had long since been removed. Dean sighed and grumbled under his breath. He could still make out the scuff of shoes in the dust on the floor indicating that whoever had been there had left right before they had entered the room and for what would not be the first nor the last time, he cursed the demon ability of vanishing into thin air. His frustration was short lived however as Sam let out a harsh grunt and from the corner of his eye Dean could see his brother's body jerk backward. He whipped around and leveled the gun at the set of hate-filled black eyes staring back at him over Sam's shoulder. A gun was held firmly under his brother's jawline, pressing into the skin hard enough to cause a wince to run across the young man's face. The demon behind him smiled vilely and winked at Dean. "Why if it isn't the prodigal sons," it purred, "We've been expecting you." Dean could hear the sound of several other people moving into the room behind the demon and he cussed himself for walking right into the trap.

Sam's face had flattened into an impassive mask, marred only by an occasional twitch of pain when the gun dug too deeply against his throat. Every fiber of his being had gone tense with a potent mixture of anger and apprehension and he shuffled backward stiffly as the demon holding him began backing away from Dean. The older Winchester slowly followed, his fingers itching around the grip of his gun as he tried to figure out what their chances were and what was the best way to get the demon off of Sam. He couldn't risk the monster getting too far away as it would make helping his brother more difficult but soon he found himself out in the middle of the warehouse floor with demons slowly closing the circle behind him. Trapped in the middle of the ring, Dean should have been terrified, but he was a hunter, and more importantly a Winchester, and all he felt right then was a swell of irritation. "Ok," he snapped, "You have our attention. What the hell do you want?"

The demon smiled patronizingly. "You already know what we want. I had very little confidence that the useless meatsack we sent to your hideout would actually succeed but we knew you two would show up here if he didn't. You're so reliable."

Dean tried not to sigh. He should have known better. The demons really were getting more clever. "Gee, thanks. I'll call you when I need a job reference," he said dryly. "But since you seem to know oh so much about us, then you also know you bit off a whole lot more than you can chew. See, we kicked your daddy's ass back to the pit so what makes you think you stand any more of a chance?"

The reference to the defeat of Lucifer got a definite rise out of the horde surrounding the brothers. As the words left his mouth, Dean could hear the rumble of several growls aimed in his direction. "Cocky little shit, aren't you?" the lead demon hissed, "But it doesn't matter. You won last time because you had angels helping you. You won because Lucifer didn't want to simply snuff you out. He liked you, Dean. And Sam here," he nudged again at the young man's neck, craning up to place his mouth right next to Sam's ear, "well, Sam was supposed to be his date for the apocalypse but since that didn't work out quite the way we hoped, we've moved on to plan B. Everything's in place, we just need the last key ingredient…your little choir boy."

Sam's eyes narrowed and he took a few deep breaths through his nose as his rage notched up a peg. "Not gonna happen," he growled, repeating his earlier mantra from the car.

The demon huffed a quiet laugh and cocked the pistol in his hand. "Oh, I think it will. See, we're going to go right back to your friend's house and see who he'd rather watch die. You or the angel. I'm betting he can't bring himself to watch you get blown away, especially since I'll make sure you go straight back down to the pit and this time there won't be any holy interference to pull you out of the fire." The creature rolled its eyes back to Dean. "Thing is…I don't need both of you for this."

Dean took a step back as the demons around him chuckled in dark glee and began to close in. He looked around, quickly counting how many of them there were, and then mentally calculated how many bullets he had available. He would be short by two. "Damn," he said quietly right before the first demon lunged at him. The next moment was a blur of activity as Dean turned and began firing into his attackers but none of them were easy targets as they weren't all stupid enough to stand still and be shot the way he was hoping for. None the less, years of practice meant the bullets were still finding their marks and as Dean struggled ferociously beneath the onslaught, the demon holding Sam offered the perfect opportunity for escape. So wrapped up in the action was he that he didn't see Sam's fist until it was buried in his face. The young man used his other hand to simultaneously wrench the gun up and away from him where it fired uselessly into the air. The shot was enough to distract Dean who paid for his glance in Sam's direction by taking a heavy blow to the side of the head but though he stumbled, he managed to keep his feet and his next shot sent the attacker back to the depths.

Sam wheeled around and his captor suddenly found himself face to face with over six foot of very angry hunter. It was a short lived situation as the demon killing knife found its way into his eye up to the hilt. Sam wrenched the blade back out, letting his victim collapse behind him without a second glance as he turned and ran to his brother's aid. Dean had fallen beneath the torrent of clawing hands that had piled atop him and though he was still managing to kill more than his fair share of the vile creatures, he was taking more wounds than he would have liked. Blood ran freely down his shirt collar from where a woman's fingernails had raked over the skin of his neck and his left eye was quickly swelling shut from a well aimed punch. He looked up to find a demon hovering over him, a sharp piece of metal in its hand from some shelf it had torn asunder in the search for a weapon and Dean knew he wouldn't be able to bring his gun up in time. His eyes went wide as the blade began to descend but the demon stopped short, a look of surprise on its face, as something pierced through the front of its throat. It blinked in confusion for a moment before the flare of light beneath its skin signaled its death and the object in its throat was torn back out the way it had come in. As the demon fell away Dean found himself looking up instead into the eyes of his brother, the bloody knife still caught in his grip and a look on his face so fierce that Dean found himself recoiling from it. Sam lunged immediately for the next demon and, while his brother watched horrified, he tore it asunder like a rag doll, the knife carving away at vulnerable skin.

There was no sign of Sam actually drinking the blood, something Dean was careful to keep watch for, but the ferocity of the attack bordered on the rabid and the older hunter found himself calling Sam's name in an attempt to get him to stop. When all but one of the demons had been slaughtered, the young man finally did pause, his blood soaked hand wrapped tightly in the creature's hair as he bent the woman's head back almost far enough to break her neck. "WHO SENT YOU?" he snarled at her, "What do you want with Cas?" Dean kneeled speechless on the floor and watched the scene unfold with mute revulsion.

The demon shook her head. "I am but the servant of the servant," she whispered cryptically, "he is coming, he cannot be stopped, and you will bring death to all you love, Sam Winchester."

Sam's face fell and the rage seemed to drain away, leaving him panting and shaking his head. "No," he said in a wavering voice, "you're wrong." With that, he slit the demon's throat wide and turned away from her to collect himself. Dean sat frozen where he was, his eyes locked on Sam as the young man paced a few feet. His face had drained of blood and he looked pale and scared under the meager lights still coming from the open office in the back. The expression on his face was as if he had just woken from a bad dream as he glanced about at the carnage left in his wake. He looked down at his trembling hands with revulsion and then carefully knelt to wipe the blade off onto the jacket of a dead demon. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, "I don't…"

Dean rose almost silently from his position on the floor and approached his brother warily. When he finally reached the young man's side, Sam looked up at him with open concern written over his face. It was painfully evident that he had just realized the amount of damage he'd done. Dean grabbed his arm and hauled his little brother back to his feet. He put on the best smile he could manage and nodded, making every effort not to look down at any of the gore surrounding them. "S'ok, Sam. Come on. Let's just…let's just head back to Bobby's." Sam nodded and numbly followed Dean back out into the blinding sunlight of the afternoon. Despite the heat rolling up off the pavement below, he found himself still shaking as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. He didn't say anything as Dean pulled out and began driving them back in the direction of their friend's house, his mind too preoccupied trying to figure out what had just happened.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam finally whispered again a few minutes later, "I don't know what happened. I just…I was so angry and I don't even know why. God…I…I tore those people apart, Dean. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Dean reached over and patted his brother's shoulder without taking his eyes off the road. "I don't know. I mean, you've been through a lot. Maybe it's just, ya know, pent up anger or something from your time in hell. Who knows, Sam. Just don't beat yourself up over it."

"You went to hell too, Dean. You never went crazy like that," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, well, there were times I would have liked to," Dean confessed as bravely as he could, "Look, just don't go all Alfred Hitchcock on me anymore and we'll pretend this didn't happen, ok? And next time you feel that angry, masturbate or something. It's healthier."

Sam snorted in amusement despite the cold lump that had settled into the base of his stomach. His brother had always had a way of making light of almost any situation and right then Sam was admittedly grateful for it. Dean pulled off into a gas station to let him wash the copious amounts of dried blood off his hands and face thought there wasn't much they could do about Sam's shirt or jeans. When he returned to the car it was to find Dean waiting with a swirl cone in each hand from a small Dairy Queen across the street. The sight brought a much needed smile to Sam's face and he willfully pushed the horror of the warehouse to the back of his mind. He decided he would think about it later, when he was around Cas again since the angel's presence seemed to have a calming effect and as they headed once more for Bobby's, Sam found himself looking forward to seeing the infant more than he would admit, even if it was only for the selfish reason that Cas would keep the rage at bay.