Here you go guys :) the next chapter

A little more plot to this one, hopefully. And Hell from Dean's point of view.

This is quite a long chapter and I'm honestly not too sure about it :/

Dedicated to xxxDrSpencerReidxxx, thank you for your review ^.^

I own nothing

Enjoy :D

Dean stomped around the barn where Abbadon had been Frankensteined back together. There weren't any discernible tracks or a followable trail. Just the occasional smear of blood and dirt and the bloody devils trap bullet by the door. He hadn't expected there to be anything else really. And even if there had been, it would be a bad idea to go after her alone. If he was being honest he just wanted some time to himself, where he could think properly without Sam coming in and trying to be helpful with his puppy dog eyes and concern. He allowed his game face to slip. Between the blood and pain there had been light, a light that he knew was Cas. He would never forget the look on Cas' face when he had burst in and met his eyes.

Cas had seen him at his weakest. He always did. It wasn't Sammy or Bobby or Lisa or Jo. It was Cas. It was always Cas that he didn't have to pretend around, didn't have to worry about freaking out (because let's face it, Cas' panic face was hilarious). He felt sorry for the guy. It's not like he didn't have his own crap to deal with, what with these angel trials or whatever that he had to do, although it wouldn't kill him to hang around and help him and Sam with the third demon trial. He gazed out at the road and his baby.

These trials were a pain in the ass. And he had a bad feeling about this last one. It was nothing concrete but watching Sam's reaction to the second trial in particular worried him. What would the completion of the last trial do to him? Dean frowned and worried at his lip. He wished it would have been him. He'd do anything to trade places with Sam. Then he wouldn't be burdened with this mess, he'd just do the damn task and bear the consequences. Maybe it was selfish of him to think of putting Sam through the fear that Dean was going through now but he didn't really care. He was the big brother. It was his job to protect Sammy. That had been the one thing that remained the same for him growing up, no matter what motel they were in, or what monster dad was facing, or what school they went to, that rule was his constant.

Look after Sammy.

It was ingrained into him, like how to drive his baby or how to shoot a gun. He had to look after Sam. No matter the cost. So the fact that Sam would miss him was irrelevant, the fact that he would worry and fret was irrelevant. As long as he was safe. Besides, if any of them deserved to see this whole thing through it was Sam. He had the chance of a future, a normal life, the kind of life that he always wanted. Dean didn't. He would keep hunting until he was dead. There was nothing else for him. Once the war was over, he'd keep fighting just because he'd wouldn't know to do anything else. Sam could find a nice girl and have a family and a home and a mortgage and a white picket fence, apple pie safe life. It was Dean's fault that he had given that up in the first place. He'd give anything for the chance to set it right. Yes. Sam deserved to live in a world that wasn't plagued by demons and ghosts. Just one more trial to go. Maybe Sam would be fine, if they finally did find Abbadon, or any other demon for that matter, maybe the gates of Hell would close and Sam would be fine.

Somehow, he didn't think so. Things were never that simple with them. He remembered what he had told Sam when he had tried to kill the hellhound

'We both know where this ends, one of us dies!'

Then again. The Winchesters did have a habit of coming back from the dead. So even if this thing did kill Sam, then his chances of coming back were pretty good. Especially if he made a deal. Crowley would kill to get his hands on Dean's soul once and for all. The Winchester who caused the most trouble. For Dean's soul, Sam would be fine. And Dean would go back to Hell. Where he arguably belonged.

He was still haunted by the things he did the first time round. All those souls he'd torn apart. He'd heard them beg, plead and his time on Earth had been forgotten, his purpose to protect had been forgotten. And he'd relished in their screams. And he hated himself for it. Maybe that was one of the reasons that he had told Sam to leave him there. That and he wanted Crowley and all of his evil cronies to be stuck in Hell until the end of time.

Assuming Crowley was still kicking of course. Cas had blown the holy Hell out of that place. Pun intended. He sometimes forgot how badass the angel could be, because for every time he'd save his life or smite a demon, he'd look confusedly at the television, or tilt his head or show up butt naked on his car covered with bees. Dean still hadn't forgiven him for that one. He'd cleaned his baby thoroughly after that particular episode. Twice.

But seeing Cas there, in Hell, there to save him, again. There, not because God had ordered it, but because Sam had asked him to and because he cared. And the way Cas looked at him sometimes, like he could see right through him (possibly because of the whole mind-reading thing), and when he looked at him in pure admiration, usually when he'd just done something stupidly awesome, he made Dean feel like he was worth something. Like maybe, he deserved to be saved.

And when he had seen Cas blow through that door and just walk up to Crowley, glowing, flicking aside demons like they were nothing, and scold the king of Hell over legalities, and the demons around him had stopped hacking and carving and Dean had been fuzzy but he had felt something the instant he met the angels eyes, it was only later, now he thought back on it and was actually aware of what had happened that he could put a name to it. It had been a warmth in his chest, a pleasant warmth, not the fire he had been subjected to. He had felt safe. Like things were going to be okay. Cas would make them okay; because that's what he did. Despite the mistakes he made and the wrong paths and bullshit choices, he always fixed things. For Dean in particular.

And then Cas was walking towards him, and then he wasn't but looking back at Crowley to say something that wiped the smug smirk right off of that jerk's face. When Cas faced him again, for the briefest second his face had been dangerous. More than that, downright scary. He never wanted Cas to look at him like that. If that was the face he used on Crowley, no wonder the king just surrendered. Then his expression had softened, and Cas was next to him, speaking, but he hadn't understood. Then his vision went black and he felt Cas' hand on his face and something else. A presence surrounding him. It was Cas but it wasn't. Like, it was more than Cas.

Dean shook himself. He'd have to ask Cas about that. Some kind of angel mojo he assumed.

He'd gotten off topic. The final trial. He needed to do something. It might not be a bad thing that Abbadon had escaped. She'd probably stay away, at least for a while. And when she came they could handle her. But not having a demon to cure would give Dean the chance to try talking Sam out of it. Or at least find something else. It's not that he didn't trust Sam to handle the trials. He just thought that this was the kind of thing that drained someone's life force. It was almost like a spell and Sam was the sacrifice. He couldn't let that happen. But how could he stop it? The gates of Hell still needed sealing. And they were so close to ending it. Dean ran a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. Thinking. Then, on impulse he strolled towards the impala and opened up the trunk, looking at the arsenal inside. Well stocked. He was almost disappointed he wouldn't have to go back to the bunker.

He got in and began to drive.

After about an hour on the road he called Sam

'Hey, Sam'

'Dean, find anything?'

'Kinda' he hedged, taking a left

'What does that mean?' Sam's voice sounded frustrated, he often did on the phone, he told Dean once that he didn't like phone calls with Dean because he always sounded far away and they usually meant bad news anyway (he'd been drunk for that particular confession).

'I mean I found a lead on something and I'm going to check it out'

'Abbadon?' Dean paused.

'No, Sammy, something else.'

'Something else?' he sounded disbelieving 'What else? Dean, there isn't anything else!'

'Yeah, well, there is now, okay?' Dean bit back 'So I'm just gonna check it out and I'll get back to you. Might take a while.'

'Dean, no. I need you on this'

'This is important Sam!'

'Is it about Cas?'

'No'

'Is it about the trials?'

'Yes. Yes it is. So just. . . just stay put for a bit, okay? Don't go looking for Abbadon and I'll let you know what I find. Please.'

'Dean-' he hung up.

He blinked hard as he drove away from the bunker. From his room. The only room he'd ever had to himself. The only place he'd ever really felt settled. Away from his brother, who would not just sit tight and wait for him to call. Not for long anyway. But it wasn't like he'd left any clues, this wasn't exactly a plan after all. It was more of an instict. And he had to act on it.

Look after Sammy.

So ... opinions? Like I said I'm really not sure about the ending to this one. It advances the plot put I'm not sure I wrote it well.

But you can be the judges of that I suppose.

What do you think?

Let me know

Love Tibbins xx