And here's what I shall leave with you over the weekend! Thank you to all my new lovlies including Guest and Cjabbott for your kind words and alerts! On with the show!

Warnings: MOAR FEELS.

Disclaimer: manipulations of lyrics, Joss' eggcellent script, characters feelings, um I think that's all?

Enjoy my lovelies xx

~8~

Gabriel's voice shattered the tension steadily building in the room. "He has to go." Of course he had to go. Dean was Sam's big brother, he would be fine, and it was the only way to get Sam back. They could storm the place after Dean had made initial contact, no big deal. The guy had been to Hell for him, so it's not like it could be any worse. Well. Right?

Dean rolled his eyes and Bobby's glare was worthy of a Gorgon's.

"I agree with the pigeon, although it is stupid to just play into the guy's hands." To the rather stunned silence that followed Crowley's statement, which sounded suspiciously like he cared, he raised his brows at them, "what? Without those morons I'm doubly screwed! At least with them I have some mediocre protection and leverage."

Bobby beard quivered with rage and Dean prepared himself for the worst. "Cas, tell him this is dumb. You can't allow this!"

Cas remained silent, eyes straight ahead and back taut.

It was the final betrayal for Dean. "He doesn't have to 'allow' anything." With that, he stormed outside to his Baby, leaving the myriad of exasperated, furious, and guilty faces in his wake.

Bobby made to follow Dean but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder. The hunter sent him a look of pure acid and shook him off violently before stomping to the kitchen. Cas sighed heavily, his hand still hanging in the air. Crowley let out a snort of laughter, "you've really done it now Romeo."

Gabriel flew to the roof and watched as Dean pulled out of the Singer Salvage Yard and rumbled down the highway.

The sky was a swath of obsidian that some rich bastard had just carelessly scattered a few diamonds across because he could. Sticky warmth pressed down upon Dean's skin despite the air's frigidity as he marched to the Impala. Sliding into the leather confines he felt none of the usual relief but more a kind of weary sense of duty. There was no connection, no passion, no sense of anything other than that this was the right thing to do.

And once again he was running out of time.

His Baby roared beneath him and the opening chords to a song began playing. For the first time in Winchester/Impala history, the music was not from the cassette tapes.

(Fair warning, multiple musical parts and feels.

Concentration is the key to clarity.

Think West Side Story meets Wicked, but... with man feels.)

I touch the fire and it freezes me,

I look into it and it's black.

Why can't I feel? My skin should crack and peel!

I want the fire back.

Dean's fingers whitened on the steering wheel.

Now through the smoke he calls to me,

To make my way across the flames.

To save the day? Or maybe melt away?

I guess it's all the same.

Nostrils flared, Dean shook his head vehemently and kept his eyes on the road. He would do this, always would. It was all he had left.

So I will walk through the fire,

Coz where else can I turn?

I will walk through the fire and let it–

Gabriel felt a pull on his Grace and before he knew it he was singing, his breath a clouded mist before his eyes.

The torch I bear is scorching me,

Demon's laughing, I've no doubt.

He kicked a wayward branch and watched it skid across Bobby's roof. I hope he fries, I'm free if that bitch dies!

He sighed then shook his head. …I better help Dean-o out.

At the warehouse, the demon took a firm stance and belted out 'cause he is drawn to the fire, some people–

Back at the house, Bobby paced furiously in the kitchen, unknowingly singing with the demon, Dean will never learn. And he will walk through the fire and let it–

Castiel turned his eyes to the ceiling and unconsciously drew his coat closer around him.

Can I just, stay this stranger?

Am I leaving Dean in danger?

Is my hunter too far gone to care?

Bobby came back to the living room, walked right up to Cas and gripped his upper arm, urgency tainting his lyrics, what if Dean can't defeat it?

Crowley moved from the couch where he was folding his kerchief and chimed in, Hobbit's right, you are needed.

But at the looks he received from both Cas and Bobby he shrugged, or you could just sit around and glare.

Cas began with we'll see it through, soon joined by Bobby, who threw a meaningful glare in Crowley's direction, it's what we're all here to do. Rolling his eyes, the demon reluctantly sang along, so we will walk through the fire.

The Impala flew along the highway like lightening but for Dean it was nothing he hadn't seen before. The aching loneliness and disconnection that had been hollering from the depths of his mind, next door to the don't go there's, seemed only to grow.

So one by one they turn from me,

I guess they just can't face the cold.

Castiel pressed his hand to the window in front of Bobby's house, searching for that bright soul that seemed to just slip between his fingers. His voice reached into the dark, what can't we face–

Dean frowned at the windshield of the Impala, oblivious to the very familiar handprint currently frozen in misted breath on his window. He cracked his neck, but why I froze, only one among them knows.

Castiel pulled back, tracking Dean's location, and continued helping the others, now joined by Gabriel, as they collected supplies and ammunition. The words burned his throat, –when we're together?

Dean's jaw tightened and he shook himself. There was only one way this was going to end. The rest cannot be told.

Bobby loaded some more salt rounds, grabbed a machete, and stuffed it and two shotguns into his duffle. He paused and his mouth pulled into a frown as the lyrics fell from his lips. Dean came from the grave much graver.

Gabriel angrily spat out first he'll kill him, then I'll save him as he snapped his fingers and stuck the lollipop that had just materialized into his mouth with unnecessary force.

Castiel watched the sky with a stillness Michelangelo's statues would be jealous of. His lyrics were almost murmured to himself, everything is turning out so dark.

Dean shifted down a gear, checked his rear mirror, and continued down the street to the warehouse's district. He was only a block away now but he was still going through the motions.

Gabriel shook his head, his lips twitched into an almost smile, no I'll save him, then I'll kill him.

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest when Bobby motioned that the demon should help with arsenal packing and instead sang, I think this line's mostly filler. Bobby rolled his eyes and actually dragged the demon over by his ear.

Back at the warehouse, Sam tried not to show his apprehension, tried not to let the demon get to him. But the guy had this aura about him as he closed his eyes and lifted his head into the air like a dog catching a scent. Sam would bet money it wasn't just the odor of the industrial machinery around them. The demon's lyrics certainly added a healthy dose of foreboding to the already boiling-over mixture of anxiety in the pit of Sam's stomach.

But what they find, ain't what they had in mind.

It's what the have inside.

The demon's wicked smile was back as he opened his eyes and lowered his head back to Sam's level. He will come to me.

The Impala's purr stilled beneath Dean. Sparing a brief glance for the outside, he walked towards the warehouses side door, feeling more and more like a man on death row heading towards Mr. Sparky. These endless days are finally ending in a blaze, and we are–

They were a chorus of voices, a symphony of misfits and miscellaneous: a falling angel, an old drunk, a wannabe king of hell, a wayward archangel, and a broken human, all hearts beating the same thunderous tattoo, a rapid rhythmic rapping against their (occasionally borrowed slash stolen) ribcages.

–Caught in the fire, the point of no return.

So we will walk through the fire,

And let it,

Burn.

Let it burn, let it burn,

Let it burn!

~8~

"It's a waste of time. Dean's not stupid."

"Oh please, everyone knows about the Winchesters."

"That doesn't mean–"

The sound of thunder and the splintering of wood interrupted Sam as the door to the warehouse flew off its hinges.

The demon's slimy grin threatened to take over his face. "You were saying."

Yeees, another cliffie! Couldn't resist! But more of that and on from whenst I returneth!

As always, please let me know your thoughts/constructive critiques/holy praise/social security numbers/etc! Love to you my lovelies and thanks for sticking with my story so far! xx