Demon Seals

Chapter Thirteen: The Past Revealed

Teaching is so wonderful, but so exhausting! It takes balance to do well with teaching, being a mom, and being a wife. Don't even get me started on writing! I knew updates would slow down, but it's sometimes a few days between sit downs to write more of this story. In addition to being a first-year teacher, I'm also expected to use many different programs, lots of little things that all require time and attention, and it adds up to a huge pile of stuff to figure out. I guess that's part of the deal with teaching at a charter school vs public school. Public has more freedom compared to what I'm experiencing so far. I still love my job, but I'm also so tired.

Anyway, quite a bit of dialogue in this chapter came from episode 4.03 "In the Beginning". It doesn't follow exactly the same, but most of it follows the episode because I felt that little would change even with Dean's small advantage of knowing that a Hunter led Azazel to Mary and John. There is a small fact in this chapter that I pulled from 8.12 "As Times Goes By" regarding his father, but no spoilers from that episode. Also, if you'll remember, in chapter one of "Demon Blood", Azazel said that the person who helped him sets his sights on John and Mary was Dean. By the end of the story, everyone thought it was some Hunter. I revealed in chapter 26 of "Demon's Year" that the angels were responsible for the fact that no one besides Sam and Ruby knows that it was Dean who was the Hunter in Lawrence when it all went down. Well, the truth will out, as they say. Enjoy!

"Hey! Hey, mister! You can't sleep there!"

Dean forced his eyes open, seeing nothing but white for a few seconds before the world came into focus and he realized he was lying down on a bench on a street he didn't recognize, covered in newspaper like a street bum. "The hell?" he muttered, forcing himself to sit up.

"C'mon, mister, no sleepin' on public property." Dean turned to see it was a cop.

"Right," Dean said, trying to focus. "Sorry." He fumbled his way to his feet and went in search of a diner, suddenly very hungry and still a little dizzy. What the hell was going on?

Staggering into the first diner he came across, he slumped onto a barstool.

"Wild night?" the guy next to him asked.

Dean glanced over at the guy. He looked kinda familiar, but damned if Dean could place him. "I have no idea," he sighed. "Whatever I did, it sure left behind an impression."

The guy laughed.

"Where am I?" Dean asked after a moment.

The man frowned. "Lawrence, Kansas. You musta had a bad night."

"Yeah," Dean said faintly. "Bad." He pulled out his cell phone, but there was no reception. "Where can I decent reception around here?"

The man looked at Dean's phone and laughed again. "The USS Enterprise?" he suggested.

Ha, ha.

"Hey, can I get a cup of coffee over here?" the man called out to the guy behind the bar. Dean looked up at the guy and took in his out-of-date wardrobe.

"Dude," he said, "what's with the outfit? Sonny and Cher broke up, you know."

"Sonny and Cher broke up?" said the man next to Dean, and the guy behind the counter looked just as confused.

Something wasn't right. Dean took a look around, realizing that pretty much everyone around him dressed quite differently than him. Then he spotted a newspaper.

The date said April 30, 1973, almost ten years before Sam was born.

"Hey, Winchester!"

Dean immediately turned to see a guy he didn't know. A moment later his insides froze when said stranger approached not Dean, but the man sitting next to him.

"John, I didn't know you were back from Vietnam!"

John Winchester.

Holy shit.

The man sitting next to him was his own father.

"Almost six months now," John was saying as Dean tried to figure out what the hell was going on. "You're behind on the times, my friend."

The man laughed and clapped John's shoulder. "Hey, listen, I just got an opening at my shop downtown. You interested?"

"I'll have to think about it," John replied, and Dean found himself fascinated by how relaxed and easy-going his father seemed. "I've got a pretty decent job right now."

"You come talk to me when you've thought about it, then," the guy said. "You got a lot of potential." He headed out of the diner, and John turned his attention to Dean.

"Do I know you?" he asked after a moment.

Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to shake his head. "Right," John said, rising from his barstool, "well, take it easy." He left the diner.

It took a few seconds before Dean was able to make himself stand up to try and tail his father, but the moment he stepped outside, Castiel was walking right alongside him.

"Crap," Dean started and took a heaving breath. "Is this all real?"

"Yes," Castiel said, "it is."

Dean dragged both hands down his face. "What," he forced out, "the angels got their hands on some Deloreans? What the hell is goin' on here?"

"Time is actually fluid," Castiel answered, "and we angels are capable of bending it, with difficulty, of course. It is possible."

Dean tried to stay calm. "Why am I here?"

"I told you," Castiel answered, "you have to stop it." And then he was gone.

"Oh, come on," Dean groaned, scrubbing at his face. "You suddenly allergic to straight answers?"

Well, he knew the date, and he was pretty sure he knew what was coming in the next couple of days, but why him? Why had they brought him back?

"Some Hunter turns up out of nowhere, interrupting me in the middle of one of my deals." Azazel's words from too long ago suddenly echoed in his mind. "So, I jumped ship and chose to take Grandpa Samuel's meat suit, which led to drawing my attention to John Winchester, the mechanic who served in the Marines and Mary Campbell, the daughter of Hunter Samuel Campbell. I thought that I must have found the best of my potential children in this particular couple, so I broke John's neck and told Mary I could bring him back if she made a simple deal to allow me access to her home in ten years. She made the deal, I stabbed Gramps and twisted Grandma's neck, and now I think I've found the one who'll carry out my plans."

Some Hunter, huh? Well, Dean knew Grandpa and Mom were Hunters themselves, so maybe he was here to stop the Deal from happening?

It wasn't much, but it was pretty much all that Dean had to go on. For now, however, he was going to track John down again and hope that he led him straight to Mary. He had a lot of work cut out for him and probably nowhere near enough time to accomplish anything.

Dean's head was spinning, but he forced himself to focus and started down the street.

John was at a car dealership, looking hard at buying a Volkswagon van the color of puke. Seriously?

The Impala sat a few feet away. My baby, Dean thought to himself, striding forward and looking her over. She was looking a tad dusty and unloved, but Dean knew his car.

As he watched John bargain for the van, he found he barely recognized the personality of the man before him. Despite being abandoned by his father as a child and serving in a gruesome, unnecessary war, he was a good man in great spirits, genial and just too happy.

It was almost sacred to Dean, this rare sight of his father.

"You don't wanna buy that car," he called out when the salesman walked away to draw up the papers for the van.

"Excuse me?" John turned to Dean. "Are you following me?"

"No," Dean said quickly, "no, I was… just passing by. I never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. I was a little out of it."

"More than a little," John chuckled.

Dean grinned. "Let me repay the favor," he offered, patting the hood of Baby. "This is the one you want."

"Oh yeah?" John asked with raised eyebrows. "You uh, you know something about cars?"

Dean smiled and nodded, thinking back on days lost under the hood of his baby with his father's voice instructing him, teaching him, molding him into the person he was. "Yeah… yeah, my dad taught me everything I know." He turned to look at the Impala. "And this? This is a great car." He opened the hood of the Impala and beckoned John closer.

He was pleased when his father joined him, but kept his happiness under lockdown. "327 four barrel, 275 horses. A little TLC and this thing is cherry."

John looked at the engine and nodded. "You know," he said, "you're right."

Dean nodded over at the ugly van. "Then why are you getting that thing?"

"I uh, I kinda promised someone I would," John admitted with a faint blush. Maybe that someone was Mary. Dean sure hoped so.

"Over a '67 Chevy?" he asked, making sure his voice contained epic amounts of incredulity. "I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's 40."

He watched with bated breath as John considered for a long moment. Then he held out his hand. "John Winchester," he introduced himself.

Dean grinned and took the hand, shaking it firmly just as John had taught him to do. "Dean Van Halen," he returned. "And uh, thank you. I was in pretty rough shape this morning, huh?"

"No kidding," John laughed.

"Listen, I'm gonna head off now," Dean said, "but it was great to meet you. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, you too," John said as the salesman came back outside.

"So?" the salesman asked as Dean walked away. He glanced over his shoulder and was pleased to see his father point to Baby.

"I'll take this one."

Dean hot-wired a car a few streets away that looked like it hadn't been used in a while and carefully tailed John for the rest of the day. Night was beginning to show itself when John pulled up at a house near the edge of town. A young blonde woman ran out, and Dean rolled down his window when it became apparent she was going to talk to John before getting inside.

"What happened to the van?" she was asking.

"Mary, this is better than the van!" John exclaimed. "This has got a 327, a four barrel carburetor."

That's my mom, Dean thought. They were together, just like John had told him before making the Deal that took him away from Dean and Sam. Hadn't John said that the night of May 2 found him and Mary deciding to elope? How long had they been together? Where were Mary's parents?

There were too many questions and not enough answers. Dean followed his parents to a diner, and watched silently as they went inside for milkshakes. "Sammy," Dean breathed to himself, "wherever you are, Mom is a babe." He grimaced. "I'm going to Hell. Again."

He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but suddenly Mary got up and headed back for the restroom. Dean's eyes went wide when he saw John pull out a small red box and open it to reveal a ring.

John was definitely ready to propose to Mary.

"Why are you following us?"

Oh, yeah. Mary was definitely a Hunter. Dean spun around only to get kneed in the stomach and then thrown against a metal container that stood alongside the diner. He managed to dodge a punch and tried to play dumb. "Are you crazy?" he asked.

"You've been trailing us since my house," Mary snarled at him, throwing another punch that Dean grabbed and flung away so he could reach out and get a firm grip on her arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Really," Mary said snidely. She broke free of Dean's hold and went after him again. He managed to pin her to the wall.

"Look, I'm a Hunter!" Dean finally decided to say. "I thought something was after your boyfriend."

Mary stopped struggling and Dean stepped back, taking in the distrust written all over her. "There's nothing after John," she said firmly. "I would've known if there was."

"Probably," Dean said, "but I had to make sure."

Mary eyed him. "Come to my house after I go home," she said. "I still don't know if I can trust you, but if anyone can figure it out, it's my dad."

"Done," Dean said.

"So," Samuel began, leaning back in his chair, "you're a Hunter? Well, tell me something, mister hunter, you kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?"

"Neither," Dean snorted, "you cut their heads off." He stared down his grandfather. "So did I pass your test?"

"Yep," Samuel answered. "Now get outta my house."

"Dad!" Mary exclaimed.

"I don't trust other Hunters," Samuel retorted, "don't want their help, don't want them around my family." He glared at Dean.

How funny was it that John had ended up with a very similar attitude?

"Knock it off, Samuel," called Deanna from the next room as she set the dinner table.

"He's a Hunter!" Samuel said, shooting Dean's grandmother an annoyed look.

"Who passed your little pop quiz," Deanna rebuked him, striding into the room, "and now I'm inviting him to dinner." She turned to Dean. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Dean admitted with a small grin. He was gonna get a chance to try out his grandmother's cooking! Mary had been a great cook, and he hoped she had learned her skill from her mom like he had wanted to learn from his.

"Good," Deanna said with a grin that clearly said 'that settles it'. "I'm Deanna, you've met my husband Samuel, now wash up."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied with gusto. He washed up as instructed, and then ate a very delicious dinner with his family. Not that they knew they were his family, of course. He was certain he needed to be careful about who he was.

Talking with Samuel revealed that there was demon activity nearby. Dean was certain that it had to be Azazel, and was quietly thankful that he'd passed out on his bed back in 2009 with his jacket on and John's Hunting journal tucked inside. If this was indeed the Hunt he thought it was, then there was info inside that would prove useful.

He had to wonder, though: why had Sam left John's journal behind when he had abandoned the Impala in Utah?

First though, he needed to check out Samuel's lead at Whitshire Farm.

Aaaaand avoid all talk of him marrying his own mother.

Buuh. Dean shuddered as he left.

Samuel showed up at the farm the next day, dressed in the same religious getup that Dean was wearing while making small talk with Beth Whitshire. "Father," he said stiffly when Dean opened the door, "I see you beat me here."

Dean contained his grin as Beth stepped up next to him. "The Lord is funny that way," he replied. "Beth Whitshire, this is my associate, our senior, senior priest, Father Cheney." Dick, he thought with relish. He told Samuel how Beth said that her husband had been perfectly normal before his death and then left the porch to go see what Mary was up to. He was a tad surprised that Samuel had brought his daughter with him, but then Mary revealed a new clue.

"Charlie, would you like to tell the Father what you told me?" she said to Mr. Whitshire's son.

Charlie took a deep breath as he nodded. "Dad drank sometimes," he said. "Sometimes he got rough with Mom."

"And that's when the stranger came?" Mary prompted.

Charlie nodded again. "I just thought he was some Bible thumper, like you all. He showed up about a week ago."

"Saying what?" Dean asked.

"Did I want the beatings to stop? I just thought he was crazy, I didn't think…" He trailed off and looked away. "And the next thing I know, Dad's dead." He met Dean's eyes. "Am I going to jail?"

"You didn't do this, Charlie," Mary said at once, but Dean was certain there was something Charlie wasn't saying.

"Did the stranger want something in return?" he asked. Mary shot him a look.

"He didn't want anything," Charlie said, looking a little bewildered.

"Come on, Chuck," Dean insisted, "he wasn't just handing out freebies now, was he?"

Charlie got real quiet for a long moment. "He did say something about comin' a callin' ten years from now. Maybe he'd want something then."

Ten years. "Something like what?" Dean asked, stomach churning.

"I don't know, okay? Look, I told you he was nuts."

Mary grabbed Dean's arm and excused them. "What are you thinking?" she asked him seriously when they were several feet away.

"I'm thinking," Dean said, "that he just pimped his soul to a demon and doesn't even know it." To Azazel, he thought darkly. But it didn't fit the pattern Sam had written up in John's journal. His list was comprised of women, mothers who had unwittingly sold away their future children's safety. What was going on?

He questioned Charlie further, asking about the man's appearance and getting the fact that clenched it for him: "his eyes were yellow."

"I know the demon we're after," he told Samuel when they returned to his home.

"But there's no such thing as a demon with yellow eyes," Samuel insisted. "Only red and black."

"Nope, there are white-eyed ones, too," Dean retorted. "Don't ask how I know." He slammed a map of the area on Samuel's dinner table.

"But —"

"You're in danger," Dean cut him off. "We're all in danger. This demon is a bad fucker, but it can be killed."

"You can't kill demons," Samuel said.

"You can with Samuel Colt's gun. The Colt."

"That bedtime story I told Mary as a kid?"

"It's real," Deanna said sternly, "or did you really not believe that journal of Sam Colt's we have back at the compound?"

"Compound?" Dean asked.

"In Michigan," Deanna replied. "You know where the Colt is?"

"A Hunter named Daniel Elkins has it," Dean told her. He pulled out John's journal and flipped through it to Sam's list.

"What's that?"

"My list of targets the demon went after," Dean said distractedly. "Huh, Sam did write down Whitshire Farm," he muttered to himself. But he added a note to it: nothing ever came of this Deal because Charlie never married. This always happened with the few men Azazel tried to make Deals with. That's why the key Karena gave us was about finding the women.

"Who's Sam?" asked Deanna.

"My little brother," Dean answered, hating that he'd let that much slip already. "He uh, he worked with our dad to figure out all the places the demon was hitting, and Whitshire is right here on the list. I knew it sounded familiar."

"But that was two days ago," said Samuel. "How is that on their list?"

"My brother is psychic, sees the future," Dean said shortly. "The next person the demon's gonna hit is tomorrow. Liddy Walsh, lives in Haleyville." Sam had added a note to this one, as well: demon made contact, but it seems that no Deal was ever made because Liddy didn't have a kid in '83 like the other women. That had to mean that this was the Deal where that other Hunter showed up and led Azazel to Mary. If Dean could get the gun and be back before the other man showed up, he could end this before it could begin!

"That's not to far from here," Deanna said quietly. Dean looked up and saw the look in her eyes.

"Sees the future, huh?" Samuel said skeptically.

"Yeah, of course you think I'm crazy," Dean sighed, slamming the journal shut. "I'm going out to find the Colt so I can end the bastard once and for all." He turned around and left the room.

Mary was sitting in the front room, listening to the radio. Dean hesitated, and decided to talk to her. "I'm shoving off," he told her. "Just wanted to say bye."

"Really?" Mary said in surprise. "So soon?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a small shrug. "Job to do. Hey, I wanted to — to tell you, you know for what it's worth. Um..." He swallowed hard and then rushed out: "It doesn't matter what your Dad thinks, I like that John kid."

Mary smiled. "You do?" she asked, and she seemed more vulnerable in that moment than she had at any time previously.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "yeah, I uh, think you two are meant to be."

Mary's smile turned softer. "Thank you," she said.

Dean knew he should leave, but curiosity got the better of him. "Can I — can I ask what he's like? John, I mean."

"Oh, well, he's sweet, kind. Even after the war, after everything, he still believes in happily-ever-after, you know? He's everything a hunter isn't." She glanced up at Dean. "No offense."

"Your mom told me once that she loved how I still believed in happily-ever-after after the Marines, and part of me thought that was how it'd be forever after," John tells Dean as they try to figure out where Azazel took Sam.

"None taken," Dean quickly answered.

Mary scooted a tad closer to where Dean stood. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.

Dean nodded.

"He's gonna ask me to marry him," Mary confided to him. "Tomorrow, I think!"

"Yeah?"

Mary grinned. "Oh, Dad's gonna explode, but I don't care. I'll run away if I have to, I just… I love John, and..."

"And what?" Dean asked quietly.

"I wanna get out," Mary finally admitted in a rush. "This job, this life, I hate it. I want a family, I wanna be safe." She shook her head and stared hard at Dean. "You know the worst thing I can think of? The very worst thing? Is for my children to be raised into this like I was."

Oh, god. Dean's breath caught. That was why she had never told John what her family did. It was so much like how Sam had felt for so long, why he never told Jessica what his life had been like growing up…

"No," Mary continued, oblivious to Dean's inner turmoil, "I won't let it happen."

Dean blinked back tears. "Yeah..." he trailed off, aching to tell her the truth, but knowing he shouldn't.

Mary leaned forward. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said at once "no, I'm — I'm fine. Hey, uh, Mary, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"Even if this sounds really weird, will you promise me that you will remember?"

Mary frowned. "Okay," she said.

"On November 2nd, 1983, don't get out of bed. No matter what you hear, or what you see. Promise me you won't get out of bed."

Mary gazed up at Dean, eyes searching as though she needed to figure out if he was crazy or serious. Finally, she said, "Okay."

A tear ran down Dean's face before he could stop it. He smiled at Mary and left as quickly as possible.

He had to change his and Sam's future. That's what Castiel had meant, right?

Dean drove his stolen car to Daniel Elkins' home in Colorado, convinced him to allow him to borrow the Colt, and tore his way back to Kansas with nothing but coffee in his system to keep him going. He realized with a pang that it was now Sam's birthday, though ten years too early.

He suddenly recalled a memory from the day Mary had gone into labor with Sam. Dean had been playing in the backyard of their home while his mother watched him, and she had suddenly bent over and gasped, clutching at her swollen belly.

"Mommy?" Dean asks, dropping his toy and hurrying over to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mary says, smiling brightly, before crying and bending over. "Oh, no, it's too soon," she whispers, turning around and hobbling inside. Dean follows her, confused.

"Mommy?" he asks again as his mother makes her way to the calendar in the kitchen. She stares at the date, breathing hard, skin of her hands white where they are pressed against her pregnant belly. "It's been ten years," she whispers. "Ten years tomorrow." She shakes her head, tears running down her face. "What have I done?"

She knew. She knew, and she never told John.

Dean pressed harder on the pedal. He needed to get to Liddy Walsh's home as quickly as possible.

Azazel was going to die.

Dean knew he was too late the moment he burst through the door and saw Azazel in the body of a middle-aged man with Mary held in front of him like a shield.

"Let her go!" he demanded, ignoring Samuel who was strewn on the floor looking a little dazed and angry.

"Where'd you get that gun?" Azazel asked, eyes narrowed at Dean. He cocked the Colt and gave Mary a short nod, thankful now more than ever that she was raised a Hunter. The blonde broke the demon's hold, but Azazel immediately abandoned his host and shot out through a vent in the wall in a stream of black smoke.

"Damn," Dean growled, safely storing the Colt away. "What happened?"

And Mary explained that her father decided it was worth checking out Dean's lead, that they'd burst in expecting an easy exorcism, that Azazel liked Mary. Dean's heart pounded as he grabbed Mary's arm and guided her outside, Samuel promising to check on terrified Liddy Walsh.

"Mary," Dean said when they were out on the front porch of Liddy's home, "what else did Azazel say to you?"

"I told you," Mary answered with wide eyes, "just that he liked me." She stared up at Dean. "What did he mean by that?"

Dean pressed his lips together. I'm the Hunter that Azazel talked about in the cabin, he thought angrily. I thought some other player was gonna show up, but instead I'm playing out events exactly as that fucking demon said they would.

Samuel stepped through the front door, assuring them both that Liddy was fine and telling Dean that he did a "nice job".

"I missed the shot," Dean replied.

"Take the compliment, son," Samuel chuckled. "I'm saying that I was wrong about you."

Okay, that wasn't so bad, but then Dean remembered the next part of the story. Azazel had said that he "jumped ship" and took Grandpa Samuel's meatsuit. He looked at the older man. Had it already happened?

There was only one way to find out.

"We need to talk," Dean told him quietly as Mary fumed by Samuel's car. "Alone."

Mary ran off as soon as Samuel's car parked in the front driveway of his home, and Dean figured she was probably off to find John. He followed his grandfather inside, one hand tucked in his jacket.

"Okay," Samuel said once they reached the dining room, "what'd you want to talk about?"

Dean searched the Hunter's eyes. Was he already possessed? Not for the first time, Dean wished desperately that his brother was by his side to help him figure this whole thing out, to use his abilities to sense if Samuel was himself, or if he was possessed.

However, Dean did remember that holy water didn't work on Azazel, which could mean that saying "Christo" didn't work, either.

There was only one thing to do, then.

Dean pulled out the Colt and pointed it at Samuel.

"What are you doing?" Samuel asked at once, raising his hands defensively.

"Here's the thing," Dean said in response. "I don't know you very well, but what I've seen so far tells me that you're not the kind to hand out compliments lightly, especially when the big bad gets away."

"You kept Mary safe," Samuel replied. "I can't thank you for saving my daughter's life?"

"But I haven't, not really," Dean said, "not so long as that demon is still out there. Since he likes Mary, he isn't gonna possess her. And since I've got a keep-out tattoo, he ain't gonna jump ship to me. But you? I lost track of you for a minute, more than long enough for the demon to come back and take over."

"So throw some holy water on me," Samuel said, "or salt."

"That don't work on this one," Dean told him. "He possessed a priest in Maryland and killed a convent of nuns without breakin' a sweat!"

"Who are you?" Samuel demanded. "How is it that you know so much about this yellow-eyed demon when not a single one of my contacts or extended family have a clue what's going on right now?"

"Because I'm Mary's son and Azazel's gonna kill her in ten year's time if I don't find and kill the damn bastard now!" Dean shouted without thinking.

There was a long moment of silence as Samuel stared at Dean, hands still outstretched in defense. "Mary's son," he said blankly.

"Dean Winchester," Dean said, because it was out now, wasn't it? "I'm the son of John and Mary Winchester, and Azazel's gonna find Mary and make a Deal with her tonight." He cocked the gun and decided to take a chance. "Christo."

The gun was torn from Dean's hand right as Samuel's eyes flashed yellow. Dean felt a force like a million hands pushing against him, and he slammed into the nearest wall.

"Well now," Azazel said from Samuel's mouth with an unnatural grin, "isn't this an interesting situation we find ourselves in?"

Dean tried to move, but he knew it was no use.

"So, if you're the son of that feisty blonde and this John, then that means you took a little time-travel trip to get here. Angels, maybe? I thought something smelled off about this area." Azazel chuckled. "It's almost like the angels wanted you to be here."

No. That couldn't be it.

"So, futureboy," Azazel continued, eyeing the Colt that he now held in his hand, "if you came all this way to see me for killin' your mommy, does that make you one of my psychic kids?"

He drew close and actually sniffed at Dean. Dean grimaced in discomfort.

"No, not you," Azazel breathed. "Maybe you got a sis, or a bro." Dean's jaw clenched, and the yellow eyes sparked with acknowledgement of his reaction, small thought it was. "That's terrific, means it all worked out." He drew back with a grin. "After all, it's why I'm here."

"To choose the perfect parents," Dean guessed. "Make Deals with women, save they guys they like, collect ten years later with their newborns when they're six months old."

"Wow, you've got my whole plan figured out!" Azazel exclaimed, and he actually seemed impressed. "Though, I never thought of making Deals with just women… Actually, I'll probably have better luck that way. Thanks for the idea, Deano."

Shit.

"Is your brother… Sam, isn't that what you told, ha, Gramps and Grandma here? Is he the best of my kids?"

"Sam is not yours," Dean snarled. "He was never yours!"

"But you said he could see the future," Azazel retorted gleefully. "He must be the best of my special children. Oh, man," he laughed, shaking his head, "I can tell I've got so much to look forward to…" He grinned.

"What is your end game?" Dean demanded. "Why do all of this? Why go to that convent? What are you going to do with my brother?"

Azazel laughed even louder. "You think I'm gonna tell you, with those angels sittin' on your shoulder?" He spread his arms. "No, I'm gonna cover my tracks real good."

"Cover all you want, 'cause I'm gong to fucking end you," Dean told him darkly.

Azazel raised his eyebrows. "Now that I'd like to see," he said.

Dean glared at the demon. "It might not be today," he told him firmly, resolutely, "but you look into my eyes, you sonuvabitch, because I'm the one who kills you."

Azazel stared at Dean for a long moment, face void of emotions. Then he grinned. "So, you're gonna save everybody with this little trip of yours, is that right? Is that it?" He took a step back and set the Colt down on the table. "Well, I'll tell you one person that you're not gonna save." He picked up a knife from the table and plunged it into his, Samuel's chest.

"No!" Dean shouted.

"NO!" It was Deanna. Azazel whipped around and strode after her as she scurried into the kitchen. Dean started struggling against the hold Azazel still had on him and broke free right as Deanna stopped screaming. He grabbed the Colt and ran into the kitchen.

He was too late.

Deanna was dead.

Azazel was gone.

And Dean knew exactly where he was going to go.

Dean ran for his stolen car and set out, finding Mary just as she lurched forward and sealed her Deal, sealed Sam's fate, sealed her death. He grabbed the Colt and jumped out, aiming to kill, but then Azazel was streaming away from Samuel's mouth, and John was coming back to life in Mary's arms, and Samuel was dead, and — and — and —

"Dean."

It was Castiel.

"Cas…?" Dean stared at him.

Castiel reached forward, placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and —

Dean gasped, sitting up on his bed. His eyes landed on the angel, and anger coursed through him. "There was never any way to change what happened, was there?" he queried, scrambling to stand and get in Castiel's face. "I knew what was supposed to happen, and it still — it still happened!"

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean," Castiel said quietly. "All roads lead to the same destination."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better, is that it?"

Castiel tilted his head to one side. "It was important that you knew all that we know."

Dean gaped. "But I told Azazel who I was," he said, "and he didn't tell me or my dad when he kidnapped Sam. He just said 'some Hunter'!"

"Your memory of that encounter was slightly altered," Castiel said. "My superiors determined that it was in your best interest to act without knowing who the Hunter was that Azazel encountered in his journey to meeting your parents."

Dean stared at Castiel disbelievingly. "Cas," he said, "that is wrong, don't you see that? Messing with my mind for your own purposes? That's — fuck," he swore, throwing his hands in the air, "you angels are messed up."

Castiel frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "We still don't know why Azazel did all that he did to your brother," he said, completely bypassing Dean's last words, "but we fear that he is headed down a very dark path."

"Which is why I'm trying to find him," Dean snapped. "Wasn't Azazel's endgame to have him lead an army?"

Castiel hesitated. "There are those in Heaven who feel that it's bigger than that."

Dean passed a hand through his hair in frustration. "You mean other angels?"

"No." Castiel stepped forward. "I fear your brother is of great importance to events to come, or else I and my brothers and sisters would not have been asked to try and get Sam to stop drinking the demon's blood right after he started."

"Right," Dean sighed, hands flopping uselessly through the air. "Well, I'm gonna find him, Cas. I swear it."

Castiel nodded and vanished.

Dean sank onto his bed, and gave into his grief over the possible future that would never be because the past, it seemed, was set in stone.

None of this was fair.