AN: Certain events in this chapter were inspired by a review from Air Guitar Pixie. Ever read her stuff? Well, you should. Seriously, she's awesome. Read her stories.

"The one and only, Moose. I'm sure you missed me."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "No-no, you- you can't be here. You're dead."

"Oh, am I now?" Moran- Crowley's face feigned surprise. "I suppose you won't feel this then." The deep agony returned, Crowley's hand wrist deep in Sam's stomach, twisting, and stretching his insides. There was no gag to muffle him this time, so Sam's agonized scream was completely free, and ripped freely from his throat. "Oh, so you do feel it? Guess I'm not dead, then." Gratefully the hand was taken out, Crowley's chuckle echoing in Sam's mind.

Sam croaked out only one of the words he had wanted to say. "H-how…?"

"Dear Cassie burned the wrong bones. He makes mistakes too, apparently. You'd know all about those, wouldn't you?"

Sam only groaned in response.

"I had no idea you two were old friends." Moriarty said.

"Oh, yes." Crowley explained with a smile. "Moose and I go way back, don't we?" He gave Sam's face a light slap, and Sam jerked his head away.

"How lovely. Now, like I said, I want to know everything about you and your brother." Moriarty turned around, wielding a poker, white hot at the tip.

Intimidation was a tactic Sam knew well, on both the receiving and giving end. But when he knew that giving into it would hurt his brother, there was no way he was going to say anything. "I'm not telling you a damn thing." Sam was determined.

"Did I ask you to tell me anything?" Moriarty's eyes didn't have to go black for them to darken completely. Sam was so caught up in Moriarty's expression that he didn't even know the poker had moved until he felt a burning sensation in his chest, followed by the sound of his skin crackling. He felt his muscles tense, and fight the straps that held them down. He managed only to pant heavily through the pain this time. "Now let's see what you've been up to."

What was he talking about? How could he possibly- no… No, he- he couldn't have. Sam looked down at his chest in a panic, begging for his thoughts to be proved wrong.

They weren't. His anti-possession tattoo had been burned off. He allowed himself a moment of weakness. "N-no, don't."

"Moran, or Crowley I suppose, did say you had a little possession PTSD. Don't worry," Moriarty leaned in toward Sam's face, disturbingly close. "I'll be gentle."'

Black smoke spewed out of Moriarty's mouth, and descended down on Sam, who was now struggling wildly, and futilely. He gagged and choked as the smoke forced its way down his throat. Coughing and shaking his head did nothing to stop it, and Sam felt all too helpless.

"You took down the devil." Sam screamed at himself in his head. "You can take down some dumb-ass demon."

"Actually," Sam heard his voice, which he no longer had control over, say. "It looks like you only did that because he- excuse me, you- were about to kill Dean. Think you'd be able to do that again?"

"G-get the hell out of my head!" He could feel himself starting to lose complete control, both over his body, and his mind. He could almost feel Moriarty forcing his way into his thoughts, and looking through every single one.

"Now, not that's exactly my place to judge, Sam," Moriarty commented. "But most people don't have a wall erected in their heads. Have you ever thought about consulting a doctor about that?"

The wall. Oh, God, Moriarty could see the wall. Which means… Sam would have swallowed if he could have. Which means he could probably break it down.

"And it's not a very sturdy wall either, might I add. It's already cracking and beginning to chip. I'm sure one little touch would just crumble it completely." Crowley had told Moriarty all about the wall, and exactly what rested behind it. He heard Sam's voice quiver in his head.

"D-don't."

Moriarty grinned with Sam's mouth. "Don't what?"

"Don't touch the wall."

"Beg." He felt Sam, the real Sam flinch in the dark corner of his mind he had been shoved into.

"Wh-What?"

"Beg me, and maybe I won't."

There weren't many options. Sam was a Winchester, and Winchesters didn't beg, but he couldn't let that wall fall. God only knows what it would do to him, and how would Dean deal with him like that? So he had no choice but to cave. "Pl-please."

"Please what, Sam?"

Please get the hell out was what Sam wanted to scream, he wanted to scream in anger, but his fear betrayed him. "Please don't touch the wall. I-I won't fight you." How Sam wished he was lying. "J-Just please… Leave the wall alone." Dean would hate him for this.

Sam's mouth curled into a satisfied grin. "I suppose that sounds fair enough. But, I'm not entirely inclined to take your word for it. Moran, if you would."

Crowley reached over and fastened the leather gag against Sam's mouth, and Moriarty grinned underneath it.

"Let Sam take the wheel for now. I want to see the fear in his eyes."

Control was finally returned to Sam, and he wasn't able to hide the panic.

"There it is." Crowley smirked. "I can't wait for Squirrel to show up. We're all going to have a lovely time together."

Sherlock paced about the flat, trying to conjure up any other reason for Moriarty's return besides turning to the supernatural. He heard a sound like the rustling of paper, only lighter, and more delicate. There was suddenly a deep voice, almost thundering, in the room.

"Hello, Sherlock Holmes."

He turned toward the voice, and was impressed by someone other than himself for once. The man had black hair with piercing blue eyes, and a long tan trench-coat. The most intriguing thing about him though was the black feathery wings sprouting from his back, and casting a show on Sherlock's wall.

"I take it I should assume that you're some kind of angel?"

"My name is Castiel, and I need your help."

A supposed angel asking for his help. Moriarty's metaphor was starting to become a lot more literal. "I don't-"

"There is not time for you to protest. The Winchesters are in danger."

"Were those the two idiots who tried to convince me that Moriarty had returned as a demon?"

"Yes, they are, and I assure you, Moriarty is a demon. And he is currently working with Crowley, the king of Hell. They have taken Sam."

"If you truly are an angel, can you not deal with them on your own?"

"You are one of the few humans with enough intelligence to perceive my wings, you cannot deny what I am. I want nothing more than to rescue the Winchesters myself, but Crowley and Moriarty have warded where they are holding Sam against angels. I can do nothing. You, however, you can get past the warding and stop the demons." Castiel didn't enjoy putting a human's life at risk, but there was nothing else he could do. He wasn't even able to find Dean to warn him with the Enochian on his ribs. Sherlock was his only hope.

Sherlock looked at the man. He was still not completely convinced, but what could be the harm if he listened to him? "What is it you need me to do?"

Never had the Impala been so slow. Even at seventy miles per hour, she might as well have had four flat tires, and no gas. Sammy was in trouble, so his car couldn't ever possibly be fast enough.

Why did Manchester seem to be a continent away? Dean knew he would be heading toward an isolated location, most likely some kind of warehouse where Moriarty wouldn't be found.

"Where no one would have heard Sam scream."

Dean nearly punched the steering wheel at that thought. Finally, he swerved the Impala into an abandoned lot around the address Moriarty had sent him. The bastard had even sent a smiley face at the end of the text. The car had barely come to a stop when Dean leapt out. Sam had been in the midst of packing their weapons, which Dean was looking forward to using, when he was taken. So Dean grabbed them, and readied himself to end this son of a bitch's life… After life. Whatever the hell it was.

He saw two men standing guard outside the warehouse, both staring ahead in a dead stare, unaware of Dean's presence. Back roads did have their advantages. He snuck up behind one of the men, and made quick work of stabbing them both with the demon killing knife. Only one of their faces sparked orange. No one else came to attack him, so Dean stepped inside the warehouse.

Typical bad guy hideout. Dirty, secluded, but it was disturbingly empty, except for one prone figure bound to a chair in the middle of the room.

"Sammy." Dean said in relief.

Sam's head snapped up toward Dean, and his eyes were wide in terror. He furiously shook his head at Dean, and frantically shouted behind a gag someone had placed on him. His eyes kept darting down to his chest as though he was trying to give some kind of warning.

Keeping his guard up, Dean started moving to Sam. "Are you hurt?"

Sam's struggles seemed to increase as Dean came closer, continuously shaking his head in complete and utter panic.

Dean tore the gag off, and that was when he saw the burn on Sam's chest. "Sam's tattoo. He- he couldn't be."

Fighting the power Moriarty was using to push Sam to the back of his mind once again, Sam managed to yell out one word in warning before it was too late. "Cr-Crowley!" And then he lost control.

Being telekinetically slammed into a wall stopped any questions Dean would have tried to ask. Sam sat up in the chair, snapping each of the straps that had held him down, grinning all the while. "That was rather cheat-ish of Sam, don't you think, Dean?" Sam's eyes went black.

A new figure stepped out of the shadows, his eyes glowing red. "Hello, Squirrel."

That was what Sam had meant. "Thought we burned your ass to a crisp."

"Guess you didn't." Crowley said with a chuckle. "I've got to say, I do miss my old suit, but I do rather enjoy having a partner."

"As do I." Moriarty agreed on a tone that was so not-Sam. There was even the slightest hint of an accent slipping through. "It's been quite a pleasant experience."

Those guys could sure kiss each other's asses. Dean used the distraction to start hurrying through an exorcism. Both men started holding their heads in pain as black and red smoke began working its way out of their throats.

"I-I wouldn't i-if I were you." Moriarty choked out. Dean couldn't help but flinch at hearing Sam's voice in pain like that, but it didn't put him off enough to stop him.

It became Crowley's turn to sputter something out. "Th-the wall."

Now Dean stopped. With Sam being possessed, could they really break down the wall like that? It was a risk Dean couldn't bring himself to take, and he stopped the exorcism.

Crowley was the first to smile. "That's better." His hand fisted, and Dean's throat became clogged with blood in answer to the motion, along with a stabbing pain in his gut. "Here's what's going to happen," Crowley explained, not at all easing up on his invisible grip. "My dear partner and I are going to take our sweet time finishing you off, and Moriarty digging around in little Sammy's head is going to keep you in check. Got it?"

Instead of responding in words, Dean could only hack up more blood as an answer.

"I have a rather different plan in mind." That voice was neither Sam's, nor Crowley's. It sounded like- No, it- it couldn't be.

"Sherlock?" Dean ground out in wonder. He was even more astounded when Sherlock began reading an exorcism off a paper he held out in front of him. He was abruptly silenced when Sam flicked his hand and sent him to the wall, making him drop the exorcism.

"Sherlock." Sam greeted, but that tone was far too familiar to be Sam's. "You still recognize me, don't you?"

"Moriarty. I suppose these boys were right about you, weren't they? You're not human anymore."

"I'm not? Whatever could have given me away?" Sam chuckled in a voice that sounded nothing like his own laugh. It was honestly more of a giggle, and it sounded so wrong coming from Sam's mouth. "I've been waiting to see you. I kept sending you messages. Why didn't you call me back?"

"You bore me looking like this. You're hardly even you right now."

"It's insurance." Crowley stepped in. "This way Dean won't risk hurting his brother."

The exorcism started up again in a different voice.

"J-John." Moriarty hissed, his eyes- Sam's eyes- going black.

Crowley lifted his hand and twisted it, causing John's air to stop in his throat. As Crowley fixated his attention on John, Dean was freed from his hold, and picked up the exorcism from where John had left off.

Moriarty practically growled in warning. "S-Sammy's wall, re-remem-" His head began twitching and shaking. "N-no!" He suddenly looked up at Dean, his eyes going soft. "D-Dean, hurry!"

"Sammy?" Dean paused the exorcism again.

Sam's face pleaded with him. "G-go!"

"Well," Crowley could sense that things were not about to end well for him. "I'm out." Red smoke poured from Moran's mouth, and darted towards the window, before bouncing directly off it and being forced back into Moran's body. "What?!"

"That," Sherlock explained over the sounds of Dean's exorcism. "Is courtesy of Castiel. He may not have been able to penetrate this building's walls, but he did manage to make a rather impressive devils' trap around it.

"He what?" Crowley shouted. "We had a-" The sentence was cut off with a retch at more red smoke was coughed up from his body. He looked over at Sam to see him in the same state. The wound Moriarty had created earlier in Sam's stomach too had smoke oozing out of it. Moriarty was apparently weakened when Sam had retaken control, and he was incapable of breaking the wall now. As much as Crowley hated to admit it, they were screwed, and they weren't getting out. "I-I'll be back." That was the last thing he said before all demonic smoke was forced out.

Dean watched red smoke seep through the floor, and sink back into the deep corners of Hell Crowley deserved to rot in. As soon as he was completely released from Crowley's power, he rushed over to Sam. Too many times he had watched his little brother be possessed, and he knew Moriarty spilling from Sam's gut wound had definitely made things worse.

Sam had fallen to the ground as Moriarty was completely expelled, yelping as his crash to the ground jarred his injury, still steadily trickling out blood. He felt Dean sit down beside him and rip his jacket off. Sam knew what was coming, but he still groaned while Dean applied pressure to the wound.

"That's going to need stitches." John too had gone over to check on Sam.

"Yeah, I know. Done this once or twice before." Dean said, probably harsher than he had to. "Who exactly are you, anyway?"

"Doctor John Watson. I've done this once or twice myself."

Crap, now Dean was embarrassed. "I got Sam. You should go check on Sherlock. He's probably not as used to getting hurled into walls as I am."

John nodded and went over to Sherlock. "You alright?"

"Fine, John." Sherlock answered. John may have secretly been hoping that the blow would have knocked Sherlock asshole-ishness right out of him. Unfortunately, that didn't appear to be the case. Sherlock brought a hand up to his dark coloured hair, and felt a decent sized jump on the back of his head. He's definitely had worse.

"Sure you didn't dent your cheekbones?" Dean thought bitterly. "Yeah, don't mind me and my bleeding out brother over here."

"Sammy, just look at me, alright? Promise, it's not that bad." Both the Winchesters knew that the wound wasn't really the problem. Dean had often joked about Sam being a magnet for the supernatural, but he hadn't meant for the magnet thing to be quite so literal. Sam was tough though. Dean had to constantly remind himself that. If Sam could shove Moriarty to the back of his head, then he could get over the fact that he had been possessed… Again. "Think you can make it back to the hotel?"

"You're not taking him to a hospital?" John asked in surprise.

"We don't do hospitals."

"At least let me help him. I can fix him up a lot easier if we go back to Sherlock's flat. I have everything we would need set up there already."

"Look, I aprreci-"

"I just bloody exorcised a demon! I'm barely used to all the serial killers I deal with, and now I have all this to worry about? If you don't mind, I'd like to deal with something I actually understand now."

Damn, there was a lot of rage in that tiny body. "Alright, fine, but we damn well better hurry."

Sam grumbled. "Stop mother-henning me…"

"Never." Dean thought with a smile.

"You blood bastard!" Crowley screeched. After one of his followers had summoned him back to his body, dealing with Castiel was his first priority. "We had an arrangement!"

"And part of that arrangement was you not laying a finger on the Winchesters. You broke your part of the deal, so I broke mine."

The stupid angel was learning, damn him. "Fine, I won't touch your precious boys again. Now that I've been to hell and back, are we even? I'd like to get back to the way things were before."

"If you touch a hair on their heads again-"

"Blah, blah, blah. Yes, I know. Now go on, run to your boys. I'm sure they've been missing you. If only they knew the truth."

Castiel shot Crowley a glare in warning, and then he was gone.

"Pleasure, as always."

"There. You're done." John finished stitching Sam up, a lot more gently than Dean usually was. Must be handy living with a doctor.

"Thank you." Sam's stomach still hurt, but at least now he wasn't going to bleed out. "So, you guys gonna be okay?"

"Why not?" Sherlock scoffed. "I just sent James Moriarty back to hell along with the King himself. Why wouldn't we be?"

"You realize your question actually just answered itself, right?" John pointed out.

"Alright, well," Sam stood up and started heading for the door. "Thanks for everything. We really couldn't have done it without you guys."

"No, you couldn't have." Sherlock agreed without looking up. He was promptly elbowed by John. "… You're welcome."

"Hey, if you ever need us again-"

"Yes, I have your number." Sherlock finished for him.

"How are you still such an ass?" Dean grumbled inwardly. "C'mon, Sammy." Before they both walked out the door, Dean added one last thing. "If you're lucky, you won't ever have to see us again." "And if we're lucky, we'll never have to deal with you again."

Neither of them were ever lucky.

See what happens when you review? It helps cure writers block. And I left the ending kinda open in case I want to do more with it later. Hope y'all enjoyed! Until next time, Carry on my wayward sons!