December, 13th 2013

I don't own any of the characters, CW and Eric Kripke do!

Beta for this Chapter: Ashqtara

A/N: Hey there my loyal readers :)

Yay, this was so much more fruitful, guys :3 I love you very much rn, thank you! *mega double hug*.

Problem was that I didn't really have time for uploading, finals and everything. But I'm done now, just have to turn in two projects next week and they're only due for fine tuning so I totally have two weeks off now, yay.

Since I took part in NaNoWriMo, I have so much text for this Fanfic right now you can't even believe it. I wrote 50.000 words in November and I'm not even done with the story yet. That means...well, this is going to be a long story. :D

Hope you really do like my writing, 'cause if you're going to stick with me, you have a lot of reading material to look forward to ;P

This chapter is on the suffering side but also throws in some more open questions, yay.

Now please enjoy :3

Chapter 6

Wash the poison from off my skin
Show me how to be whole again

The panic in Dean's chest wasn't ceasing with every mile he drove. In fact, it was only getting wider, pressing against his lungs and making breathing uncomfortable as well as his heart beat unnaturally loud. Who knew what could happen by the time he got to the house? Sam wouldn't answer his damn phone and that plus the screaming meant something really, really bad.

Finally, the house came into view. He stopped the car a short distance down the road to not alert whatever broke in and lifted his shotgun from the arsenal in the back, loaded with as much rock salt as he could find. Together with his trusty ivory pistol in his jeans, Dean made his way to the back of the house, carefully glancing to the windows just to be sure he wasn't spotted. When nothing came into view, he didn't know if he was supposed to be in a good or a bad mood about that.

Carefully opening the glass back door, he was surprised to find salt lines beneath every window and door, but the glass door as well as the windows shattered to the inside and the salt lines disturbed. If the house had been a mess before, it was far worse now. But that wasn't what made Dean's blood run cold. Sulfur in the frames of the windows and the stink in the air told Dean that there had been demons here. Or still were. No, his brother could handle a few demons on his own, no problem. And he had Abigail for help, too. What got him stopped in his tracks was the blood. And the complete emptiness of the house. There was no soul in sight, no sound to be heard at all. Red liquid was splattered on the floor and parts of the wall and if his experience and medical knowledge was good enough, he was pretty sure it was far too much for a wound that could be easily survived. There were tracks of blood across the floor as well as caked footprints, as if somebody had been dragged. Dean dropped his shotgun on the sofa and kneeled down to where the blood was, touching it.

"Sammy…" he whispered. This was his brother's blood. The older Winchester had no clue how he knew that, he just did. That knowledge didn't make him feel any better, either. Impatiently, the hunter paced the room, searching for any of them, any clue to anything, a location where they might be, something. He examined every inch for something out of place, even the little freed space that looked like a meditation spot. Whatever the hell two hunters needed a meditation spot for.

His ringing phone pulled him out of his thoughts. Please let it be Sammy, let it be Sammy… Dean was almost disappointed and a little pissed, too, when he saw Bobby's name flash on the display.

"What?!", the hunter barked into the phone, only to be greeted by his surrogate father, who was just as pissed as he was.

"Don't what me, boy. I'm working my ass off for you, you hear. Which is, by now, almost as numb as my legs." The older hunter grunted and Dean quickly tried to calm himself.

"Yeah right. What you got?" Dean asked, skipping over the leg-conversation quickly by now. Bobby sighed.

"It's not good, I tell ya. Adam and I have been searching for something that fits the symptoms of what you're dealing with, turning people to dust, abducting children, all that strange mumbo jumbo." He heard turning of pages and then suddenly, his half-brother sounded from not so far away.

"We found a demon that's named Baal. Bobby says it's a pretty big deal, some kind of hell knight or something. Really powerful." He heard Bobby grumble in confirmation.

"Nasty guy, that one. If it is really him, Dean.." he paused and Dean understood that he was switching to his serious tone.

"You better get the hell outta dodge. This is nothing you two can handle alone and spontaneously. This guy turns people to dust just by being in their presence, you should be nowhere around him unprepared if you can help it. Come back to my place and we can work something out.", he lectured. Dean was silent, then he gave a dry laugh which made Bobby frown.

"What? What is it, Dean? Don't even think about staying, you're coming back to my place, better bring that Abigail chick, too.", he said. Dean shook his head.

"Can't.", Dean said flatly and he could practically hear Bobby suck in his breath to tear him a new one over the phone.

"You listen to me, you hot headed, too –full-of-yourself little brat-"

"They've got Sammy, Bobby. And Abby, too. I..I just got to the house, it's empty. Sammy's blood everywhere. The two were doing research while I was out working the case, asking the vics about what they knew. Sam called, I heard Abigail scream, then the line was dead." He explained and was impressed by how level he could keep his voice. Bobby was silent, probably in shock. Then he took a deep breath.

"Alright, okay. We…we're gonna figure this out. First, you have to stay calm.", the older Hunter explained. After all, this was Dean and it was Sam who was gone. But then again, it was Dean…

"I am calm." He said in a tone that suggested he was serious and offended to hear otherwise. Okay, now something wasn't right.

"You just said you found Sammy's blood on the floor. How do you know it's his anyway, any name tags on them? Could as well be a demon bleeding out." At that, Dean massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I am positive. Just…trust me, alright?"

"Then why in the name of whatever is in charge up there these days are you calm? I recall you freaking out over much less." Bobby had lifted an eyebrow, Dean didn't even need to see him to know he did. There was an undertone in his voice of the things he didn't say out loud. Of what could have happened to Sammy by now, of what they might do to him, to Abby. What they might do to get him to say yes…

"Yeah, well. And I've decided to not let this get to me and concentrate on my ways to find him and kick the ass of whatever dared touch my brother. Or Abby, for that matter. They won't kill him since they need him so that might buy me a bit of time. And Sammy can turn into a walking talk machine if he needs to buy some. Now're you gonna help me or you gonna bitch some more about my recent level of calmness?" his voice had pitched up some from the actual impatience in it. He didn't have time for this conversation when Sammy was at stake, even if he was strangely calm and level headed. It was just…since this Zachariah thing he had this feeling in his gut. It was a constant of calmness and standing in a position slightly above everything, being able to muster movements and see patterns he hadn't been able to work out before. Now it was giving him the ability to remain rational and think of the things he could do to find Sam and Abby instead of rushing about and shooting at everything that looked remotely supernatural.

"Of course. I'll get to work. Just stay on the line." Bobby said and Dean nodded, lying the phone down on the nearest table and putting it on speaker. Then he breathed in deeply to calm himself. So, he really needed to find his little brother. With determination in his green eyes, Dean's gaze lifted to the research that was already hanging on the wall.

Okay, let's kill us some of Luci's bitches…

~.~.~.~

Sam awoke to a scream. Which was certainly not a good sign, since he had fallen into darkness hearing the exact same voice screaming out in pain.

Well, shit.

He groaned, the pain hitting him hard. His hand flew to his side and gripped the gaping wound there, instinctively trying to hold the blood in. Of course it didn't help much. He must have already lost a lot of blood from that gash, as weak as he already felt.

Double shit.

"Abigail.." he whispered, trying to search for her. It was dark in here, too dark for him to see anything. Of course. Demons didn't need that much light to see. It was probably a tease and fun for them to play with the weakness of a human eye. Naturally, why did he even question that?

Another scream sounded through the room. Sam felt his blood run cold. What the hell were they doing with her?

"Oooh, our prodigy is awake. How're you feeling, Sammy baby?", asked a voice from not that far away. Sam felt the wood under his body and struggled to sit up, his hands blood from trying to hold the blood in.

"Don't call me that." he insisted. Again, only Dean could call him that (Sammy, not Baby). Nobody else. He felt anger rise in him, that great portion of anger that had fueled him far too much in the last months. Anger directed at the demons, who were obviously torturing Abigail and using a nickname they had no rights to. Suddenly, all that anger that might have given him strength to fight was blown away when he felt something press into his side that wasn't his own hands. A shoe.

"Ehehee. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I'll call you however I want, got it?" with a shiver, Sam realized that the voice was female, a heavy female voice full of venom. It might have been sexy if the young hunter didn't know that it belonged to a bloody demon. God, his side freaking hurt! He had to swallow the urge to cry out in pain, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. His face was distorted in pain anyway and he pressed his teeth together, taking in deep breaths only to be further tormented by the foot being stabbed in even deeper. Oh GOD! Please just let it stop…

In a last attempt to get rid of her, Sam lashed out with his arms –which weren't bound, big mistake on her side- and grabbed her leg, pulling it from under her and making her fall. He pulled out the demon knife from under his jacket, surprised it was still there, and soon found himself on top of her, pressing her to the floor the knife at her throat.

Her face was directly before him and he had been right that she was actually good looking. Demons had a kink for pretty women, it seemed. She had blonde hair and full lips as well as brown eyes. They weren't glowing black but that wasn't worrying him since demons only rarely showed their real eyes. But he had her now, she couldn't get out of this without being stabbed by the demon knife. That was when she suddenly began to laugh. Loud and enthusiastic laughter. As collected as Sam had been before, now his face showed utter confusion. What about this situation was funny to her?

"That thing can't hurt me." she laughed under tears. Seeing his face, she just grinned.

"You don't believe me? Come on, try. What do you think why I didn't take it from you?" her grin was winning and Sam was getting madder at her within seconds. He lifted the knife and swung it at her neck, clearly cutting her throat. But when he did, nothing happened. The woman was just lying there, lifting her eyebrows at him, when within seconds, the cut closed itself. No trace of it and Sam lashed out again, this time trying the heart.

In the next moment, he felt himself being pressed against a wooden –and rather instable- wall, the wood crushing painfully into his injured side. He couldn't suppress a half scream of pain. The woman got up, pinning him to the wall with her psychic abilities, grin still on her face and pulled out the knife, unharmed. That was when it dawned on him.

"You're an angel." he pressed through his teeth. Of course. Lucifer sure would try to gather some fallen angels while he was at it. The woman tilted her head. It reminded him of Lilith, which only made him want to kill her more.

"Why how awfully kind of you to say that to a woman. But yes, you are correct. I'm one of Lucifer's most trusted soldiers, actually. I'm in this town for a very important mission." she clarified, smile still present while she lifted her hand to make him stop struggling against her telepathic hold. Sam's lips quivered in rage at this point. Stupid bitch, pressing her against a wall like that. He should be helping Abby, warn Dean, whatever, instead of hanging around and being helpless.

"To summon a hell knight." he spit, his eyes narrowed in disgust. That's how far Abby and he had come with their research. Actually, they even had a name. But he didn't need to pronounce it here, that was too risky. Sometimes, names had power.

The angel grinned broadly. "Yes. You did your research well, young hunter. Not any hell knight though. Baal. The commander of Lucifer's army against god, the upholder of 66 legions of demons. He will spit upon you humans once we've got him out. You will stand no chance with him and his troupes present." she said, her voice was venom but she also had glee in it, obviously believing to having achieved certain victory.

"Yeah, but it's not that easy, is it? Baal is buried in the deepest pits of hell. You need a very powerful spell to get him out. This town's just an offering to him. And you still need a vessel that can even hold him in." he gave a dry laugh. "Can't take me. I'm chosen, aren't I?" he spat out, now glee in the hunter's own voice. Not that he particularly liked being Lucifer's vessel. This time it did come a bit in handy though. Another laugh disturbed his train of thought.

"No, not you. Our master seemed to have claimed you for himself. Whatever the reason, I don't see why you're supposed to be so special. A little demon blood doesn't qualify you to be the vessel of hell's mighty king. That girl over there though. She's got something even you special snowflake don't have." she smiled and put her right hand around his neck, pressing and strangling the answer in his throat. Sam would have asked what she meant but his voice was abruptly cut off by the angel's strong grip around his windpipe.

"You know, I'll enjoy killing you slowly. I mean. After your brother got taken care of, I'm sure Lucifer won't mind getting you back again. A little agony to persuade you, mh?" her grin got wider as she saw Sam's eyes widen. Suddenly, the room seemed cold. No…no. She was lying.

"D-Dean?" he asked, pressing the air through his windpipe even though he was being strangled. "No…no, you're lying. He's fine. I was on the phone with him, he was fine…" he breathed, trying to reassure himself. Dean was fine. He could take care of himself. Why was this so shocking to him, this fallen angel just knew how to press his buttons, she knew what to say to get him panicked, to make him desperate, to make him suffer. But her smile didn't waver and she grinned again, her red lips forming this unforgivable smirk.

"Am I?" she paused and got something out from out of Sam's view. "Do you recognize this?" she held up a gun, which was strange enough. But then it started to down on him. This was Dean's. It was his ivory gun, the one he usually kept in the back of his jeans and sometimes under his pillow at night. And it was something that he would never just give up or forget somewhere. And to his further horror, it had blood all over it. Sam felt like his heart dropped right out of his chest and got stomped under the angel's feet.

"No…no you're lying. God no, you have to be lying." he whispered, desperation starting to creep in. But this was what she wanted, right? Maybe it wasn't even Dean's gun but another one that was similar to it or something. But Dean's Chromed 1911 with ivory grips…there was something that couldn't be just bought: Dean's initials at the side, carved into the handle by his 16 year old self after their Dad gave it to him for his birthday. Dean had leaded a hunt for the first time and Dad had bought the gun for him afterwards, since he lost his old one to the werewolf they were hunting. They could have stolen that from him but who was he kidding? That was highly unlikely to happen if his brother could help it. This item was one of his most precious possessions, with the memories it held and he would never have a demon take it, he'd rather….well, die.

But he couldn't be dead now. The angels wouldn't let him, right? Wait, was he seriously thinking that? They had been murdered by fellow hunters and brought to heaven so they could get Dean to say yes. So yeah, they would probably greet Dean's death with open arms to make him their little chew toy again. No, no this wasn't happening, not now. Not again. He couldn't lose Dean to the angels. They would let Michael jump his bones, they would let Dean fight in the great battle and without his brother by his side…how was he supposed to resist the nightmares? How long could he hold out on faith in himself alone when he was the one who let out the bastard that was leading this whole mess to begin with? Who was he kidding? The only one who had ever believed in him wasn't even himself, it was Dean. So without Dean, what was he supposed to do? Dammit, what the hell was he supposed to d-

Quiet laughter interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh well. That was easy. Kill a Winchester and the other one just breaks down. Why hasn't Lucifer ever thought of that sooner? Oh wait…he has." the angel mused into the quiet, still pressing him against the wall of the cabin with her powers. Yeah, it was quiet….Abby's screaming had stopped. Which right now, maybe wasn't a good thing. Maybe she was too weak to scream already. God, he had to get a grip. The angel's triumphant grin made his sorrow run cold. The block of ice that rested in his stomach turned to rage and the only thing he wanted to do was rip this little bitch's head off. Yeah, maybe it did break him. Maybe he wanted to crawl into a corner and never come out of his misery but then again, these bastards had killed his brother. Or at least they said so. And if there was nothing that got a Winchester more broken, there was definitely nothing that got a Winchester more furious.

"You're gonna pay for this, bitch." he snarled, his face and voice quivering with rage. She stepped closer, glee in her features, leaning into him and stroking his clenched jaw.

"Oh yeah? Well, I'd like to see you t-"

The fallen angel was interrupted by Sam Winchester's knee slammed between her legs.

~.~.~.~

Dean Winchester, on the other hand, wasn't dead at all. His perfectly healthy behind was resting on the floor of Abigail's and Larry's house and he was looking at the maps and articles spread out before him. His mind racing, he was putting everything together, until satisfied. Then suddenly, he would jump up and grab his cell phone.

"Got it." he announced into the speaker and shot a picture with the phone camera. He typed something, staring at the screen and finally clicked 'send'.

"Mailed it to you." from the other end, there came a confused voice.

"What? That fast? It's been 30 minutes. What the hell are you sending me?" Bobby's voice was gruff. He'd been reading through some articles from the last week, trying to find a clue of where the demons could be hiding Sam and Abby. What the hell was so important that Dean was sending him a picture of it? Impatiently and a bit curious, he opened the mail and his eyes grew wide.

"Dean." his tone was serious, bordering on spooked as his eyes flew over the slightly blurry camera picture. Adam beside him leaned over and looked at it, eyebrow raised.

"Dean!" he called again when the older Winchester didn't answer.

"What? I'm packing my things. I know where to go." he spat. But Bobby shook his head.

"Hold your damn horses. What you send me, is that what Sam and Abby put together this afternoon?" he asked. Dean grunted.

"No, it's just the useful part of that, about ten percent. The rest is what I put together from what I just found. Why the hell is this important, Sam needs my goddamn help. So maybe you could tell me what you found out about how to kill or get rid of a damn hell knight instead of asking stupid questions." there was a few seconds of quiet from the other end and Dean tapped his feet nervously. Damnit Bobby, I don't have time for this. He picked up his phone and put it from speaker to normal, holding it to his ear.

"Spit it out already." he groaned, sensing that something was coming he probably didn't want to hear.

"Dean. That is research quality that would normally take hours to prepare, maybe a day. And I…well I'm sorry to tell you this but you've never been the best at it, either. So…" he hesitated, looking at the picture again. But this was clearly Dean's handwriting all over it. Scribbled and messy, and lots of it all over newspaper articles in red marker and on notes. Sam's neat writing was there too, but it was just minor, ten percent, like Dean said. He stroked a hand over his face, scrubbing his beard.

"How the hell did you even manage all this?" the old hunter asked under his breath. God forbid, he believed that Dean was thrilled to get Sam outta there but hell, this was just plain impossible. Not even John could have done this. Something was off with this kid. He just couldn't put his finger on it…

"Well, I was motivated. Get onto that hell-knight-thing, I'm leaving. Call me." and with that, Bobby Singer was disconnected from the call.

~.~.~.~

The respective hunter in question stared at the phone in his hand. The youngest Winchester brother was beside him and studied the picture, comparing it to some of the notes.

"This is brilliant." Adam spat while Bobby still stared, deep in thought.

"He even has the summoning circle down on the map of the city. Look. Exactly the same. Apparently the location of every victim's death is exactly on one of those circle lines. Where'd he even find that thing?"

"I have no idea." The seasoned hunter finally got out. The man in his wheelchair stared at the picture in question. Sure enough, on top of a city plan, in red lines of marker, there was the summoning circle from his book, the one Adam was looking at. There were some kind of straight lines that looked like sketch lines but otherwise it was perfectly round and perfectly detailed and reasonable, little crosses where the victims had dropped. What the hell was happening? This level of knowledge…almost supernatural. Definitely supernatural. But how? What?

No, it couldn't be….right?

"You never mentioned Dean was a genius. Is that why they want him so bad?" Adam said and sounded impressed. If Bobby hadn't been that shocked, he would have laughed. Only a small, irritated huff reached his lips.

"That's because he isn't. I mean, he's not dumb and a lot smarter than people give him credit for, sure. I think sometimes he plays the idiot card to lure people into a fake sense of security. But a genius? No, not like this, not this level. Nobody is." he pointed at the picture. "Nobody I know could have done this that fast. Not Sam, not John and not even Ash. And that symbol." he pointed at the book. "It's nothing you just find on the internet. These old, dusty books are probably the only source for it and I'm certain Dean doesn't have it with him over there." Adam raised an eyebrow.

"Then how does he know the symbol? Have you told him about it sometime? Has he seen it somewhere?" he asked. Bobby just sighed. He looked over the notes at the side of the map. 'souls of victims used to strengthen summoning.' 'soul dust tinted with a curse, black and bound to earth.' 'have to be purified to break summoning'. Who the hell knew such details about souls and summonings? Well there was a guess in Bobby's mind but if that was right…why hadn't he heard from Sam about this? The younger hunter would be out of his mind if he knew. Did he?

"Damn straight, kid. I have no goddamn clue."

While Bobby stared into space, there was silence. A thousand thoughts flew through his head. What could cause this? What had happened? How did Dean know this stuff? And if his guess was right, why did he still seem so…Dean? Finally, his thoughts were interrupted.

"So, we call him and ask again?" Adam asked, he was obviously damn curious about all this. Well good for him, then. Curiosity would keep him from falling asleep during research. But Bobby shook his head.

"No, we should find out about that Baal guy and how to get rid of him first. Read me that passage next to the summoning…"

~.~.~.~

Sam's vision was blurry. He squinted and tried to get the wooden room back into focus. Why again was he so tired? A sudden cutting pain in his abdomen and practically everywhere on his body reminded him. Painfully.

Ohh, right. Being beaten to death by an angel. Forgot about that.

If the situation wasn't that fucked up and hopeless, he would have laughed. Fresh pain spread through him as a kick entered his side. Then another slash from his own knife. A gunshot to his shoulder from Dean's colt. If he started to count his every injury, he would probably never stop the counting. Not that he would be alive for much longer, anyway.

Weakly, he found the strength to struggle ever so briefly. The hunter swatted her leg away and gripped onto it, pulling it so she lost her balance and fell to the floor.

Well, bitch deserves it. He thought bitterly. If it was true and Dean was dead because of her, what was left to fight for, anyway. What was the point of revenge if there was nothing left to avenge?

Look where it got you last time, Sam. Started the fucking Apocalypse.

Yeah, killing Lilith hadn't really turned out as satisfying as he had thought it out to be. But killing some run-of-the-mill angel wouldn't hurt, right?

Problem was that he just couldn't. Even rejected from heaven, angels where too fucking strong. Lucifer probably even gave her some sort of new strength, something that replaced their grace and made them swear to their allegiance. He had tried to get hold of her angel blade, but apparently she had stored it away elsewhere, just in case. Why did he have to get the smart angel to be his torturer? Typical Winchester luck for you.

A weak scream echoed through the small house. One that sounded final, and that made Sam's heart clench. Abby…god, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't even be here.

Again, he struggled to get up. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. There was too much blood loss, too much pain. But he had to get up, get to Abby, get her out of here. She didn't deserve this, none of it.

But just as he made it up a few inches from the floor, something collided with his head heavily, and there was nothing but darkness following.

Dean…

~.~.~.~

Take me down to the river bend
Take me down to the fighting end
Wash the poison from off my skin
Show me how to be whole again

Fly me up on a silver wing
Past the black, where the sirens sing
Warm me up in the novice glow
and drop me down to the dream below

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything left for you to see
For you to see

~Castle of Glass, Linkin Park

Yeah, that's it! I know, I'm cruel and I'm sorry about that. Sometimes I just need to embrace my inner sadist :D

How did you like it? Did you? Please please tell me, anything short is totally fine, just drop by a few words, I'll love you forever :3