Mack sat on her bed reading 'All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two'. She had no intention of reading the books past the one where her father went to Hell, but she thought it was interesting reading the books leading up to that since she had been too young to remember most of those hunts. She was just getting to the part where her father made the deal to bring back Uncle Sammy when the familiar sound of the Impala met her ears. Grinning widely, she threw the book down on her bed and ran down the stairs. "Slow down! You're gonna break something," Bobby chastised, but she didn't listen. She was out the door and flying down the front steps as soon as the brothers were climbing out of the car.

"Daddy!" she squealed, barreling into him. "Hey, bug," he grinned, squeezing her back. "Missed you so much, baby girl." She looked up at him, grinning widely. "Missed you, too." Sam ignored the exchange between father and daughter, heading straight inside the house. Dean noticed but didn't comment, focused completely on Mack. "What have you been up to?" he asked her curiously. He wanted to know everything about how she was adjusting to being back after her time in the hospital. "Not much," she shrugged. "Grandpa Bobby doesn't have a lot of stuff to do besides read books." Dean chuckled, "Yeah, true. Maybe you and I can look through the attic and see if we can dig up any old toys and games, huh?"

"Yuh huh," she nodded. "Come on, come on, come on." Dean's smile didn't diminish in the slightest as he allowed Mack to grab his hand and pull him toward the house. He barely had time to send Bobby a quick hello before she was pulling him upstairs toward the attic. Once they actually got to the attic, she switched to hiding behind him because he needed to "Keep me safe from spiders, Daddy." Bobby's attic was filled with countless dusty and neglected boxes- mostly filled with forgotten books- that they had to sort through in order to find the ones with Mack's old toys and games. Really, it was mostly Dean sorting through the boxes while Mack kept an eye out for the spiders he was supposed to keep her safe from.

They stayed up there for several hours, Dean telling jokes and stories to distract her and make her laugh mingled with the occasional shriek of, "There! I saw one right there! Kill it, Daddy!" He finally found the boxes they wanted, collecting a stack of usable items they could bring downstairs with them. There were a few board games that may or may not have all the pieces, Uno, a stack of playing cards, and a couple toys that Mack had deemed acceptable for her to play with. Together, they carried the haul downstairs to the kitchen where Bobby and Sam were talking after making a pitstop at Mack's room to drop off the toys.

"Did y'all organize the entire attic?" Bobby asked, eyeing their dusty clothes and faces. "No, Daddy kept getting distracted," Mack giggled, eyes sparkling as she grinned. "Maybe if someone didn't keep finding spiders, I wouldn't have gotten so distracted," Dean joked, grinning down at his daughter. It was such a relief seeing her smile and hearing her laugh after what felt like an eternity of pain and tears. He could live like this forever. "They're scary!" Mack defended herself. "I know, bug."

"You idjits wanna show us what you found?" Bobby interrupted, a small smile tugging at his lips as well. He hadn't seen much of Mack since she was okayed to come home, spending most of her time in her room reading. It was as much of a relief to see her like this for him as it was for Dean. Across from him at the table, Sam remained disinterested, excusing himself quietly. Dean distracted from the moment, helping Mack sort through and figure out which games were actually playable and which ones weren't. They ended up playing a few rounds of Chutes and Ladders and then moving on to Candyland.

That night, Dean ended up in Mack's room, staying with her until she fell asleep. As soon as she was out, he snuck out of the room to do some research. Since things hadn't worked out with Crowley, he needed to find out a different way to get Sam's soul- and hopefully Adam, too- out of the cage.

"Where's Daddy?" Mack asked when she came downstairs the next morning. "He had to run some errands. He should be back soon," Bobby assured her. "Come have some breakfast." She came to the table, accepting the bowl of cereal he got her. A little while later, they were joined by Sam. "Hey," he greeted them. "Mornin'," Bobby grunted back, focusing on the newspaper in front of him on the table. "Dean around?"

"He went out. Said he wouldn't take long." Sam frowned, "He say anything else?" Bobby shook his head, still focused on the paper. Mack finished her breakfast, heading up to her room. She didn't like being around Sam without her father there. The cold, empty look in his eyes and the way he just didn't feel like himself scared her. She grabbed her book, choosing to read until her father returned from whatever errands he was running. She was so sucked into the story that she didn't realize Dean had returned until she heard Sam yell downstairs. "You what?!"

Mack set her book down, cracking her door open to listen. "Death said he could put up a wall," her father's voice carried up the stairs. "A wall?" her uncle echoed. "Yes, yes, a wall- that- that, basically, you wouldn't remember Hell." Mack bit her lip, slipping out of her room and making her way quietly toward the stairs as she continued to listen. "Really?" Sam asked skeptically. "Really," Dean confirmed. "For good? Like a cure?"

"No, it's not a cure. It… He said it could last a lifetime," Dean said. "Great," Sam sighed as Mack reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a seat so she wouldn't be noticed. "So, playing pretty fast and loose with my life here, don't you think, Dean?" Dean glared at his brother. "I'm trying to save your life!" Sam nodded, "Exactly, Dean! It's my life, it's my soul. And it sure as hell ain't your head that's gonna explode when this whole scheme of yours goes sideways!"

"Just curious," Bobby piped up from the table. "I presume Death's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart. So what's your half of the deal?" Dean shifted evasively, not answering right away. Then he mumbled something too quiet for them to hear. "I'm sorry. I didn't get that," Bobby said. "I have to wear the ring for a day," Dean answered louder. "Why the hell would he want you to do that?" Dean shrugged, "Get his rocks off. I don't know. But I'm doing it." Sam moved toward the front door. "Where you going?" Dean asked him.

"Look, I hear you, alright? I get it. I just need to wrap my head around it, alright?" He exited the house. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, turning and spotting Mack sitting at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, bug. How long you been listening?" She kept her gaze on her lap, not looking at him. "You're leaving again?" she asked quietly. "Just for a few hours," he answered. "But you just got here," she protested. "I know, Mack. But I'll be back again before you even have a chance to miss me, I promise."

She looked up, anger in her hazel-green eyes. "I hate you! I never get to spend time with you any more!" She stood up, running back upstairs. "Mack!" Dean yelled after her. He flinched when she slammed her door. "You couldn't have waited a few days?" Bobby questioned him. "We gotta get Sam's soul back, Bobby. It's important," Dean pointed out. "Yeah, I know. But so's that little girl. She hasn't been around you in over a year, Dean. You realize that? She needs to spend time with her father."

"And I will spend time with her, as soon as I take care of this," Dean answered. He turned on his heel, heading out to find Sam outside so he wouldn't have to face Bobby's disapproving looks. He knew it had been way too long since he spent some real, extensive quality time with his daughter. Since before the apocalypse. Possibly even before he went to Hell, he couldn't remember anymore. He just couldn't afford to get distracted by that fact, not with his brother's soul on the line. He found Sam staring down at an empty hole in the ground in worry. "Looking for this?" he held up Death's ring.

"Just taking a walk," Sam wiped the worry from his face. "Sam. I'm your brother. I'm not gonna let you get hurt. I know what I'm doing here." Sam frowned, "What if you're wrong?" Dean shook his head, "I won't let it go wrong."

"Fine."

"Fine? So, you're-" Dean began in shock. "So, I'm trusting you here," Sam told him. "Barely." Dean swallowed, unable to believe Sam was actually going along with this. Bobby had come out and was standing just a little ways away, listening. "You sure?" Dean pressed. "You're the compass, right? Just don't mess it up." Dean nodded, "I won't." He looked at Bobby. "Watch him."

Sam finished the summoning ritual in the old garage out in Bobby's yard and straightened up as the angel appeared in front of him. "Sam… Winchester," Balthazar sighed. "Why here's one for the list of dumbest things ever. Summon the angel who wants to kill you." Sam swallowed, "Desperate times. I need your help, Balthazar." The angel raised an eyebrow. "Interesting… Since last time we met, you wanted to- what was it? Oh, yes, yes- fry my wings 'extra crispy'."

"Well, that was a misunderstanding."

"Some misunderstanding!" Balthazar scoffed. "I need some advice," Sam said. "Advice?" Balthazar echoed. "Angel advice." Balthazar rolled his eyes, "Well, then ask your brother's boyfriend." Sam huffed, "Cas can't help me. I need to know if there's a spell or a weapon, anything that can keep a soul out- forever." Balthazar looked at Sam with a shocked and slightly intrigued expression. "Ohh. What's going on, Sam?"

"It's for me." The angel was really shocked at that little revelation. "Well. The plot thickens. Where's your soul, Sam?" he asked, then seemed to realize. "Good God, no. It's not still… it is." Sam grimaced, "My brother found a way to put it back in me. I don't want it." Balthazar nodded in agreement. "No, you don't. No, no, 'cause Michael and Lucy are hate-banging it as we speak."

"Can you help me?" Sam queried. "Oh, yes. The question is, will I?" Sam nodded, "Set your terms." Balthazar smirked. "I'll do it for free." Sam stared at him in confusion, "Free? Why?" The angel chuckled, "Well, you seem like a capable young man. I'd love to have you in my debt. And I have to say, I'm not a fan of your brother, so screwing him would delight me. Anyway, to business. The spell, yes. So, finding the ingredients is easy enough, but, uh, there's one tricky part, however."

"Okay," Sam furrowed his brow. "You need to scar your vessel," Balthazar explained. "Meaning what?" Balthazar elaborated, "Meaning something that pollutes it, renders it uninhabitable. Calls for something very specific." Sam nodded, "Great. What?"

"Patricide."

"There's no way I could track my dad down in time," Sam frowned. "Lucky for you, we can settle for the next best thing- parricide. I hear that little niece of yours is back," Balthazar grinned.

Mack was still sobbing into her pillow. It wasn't fair. All her dad cared about these days was hunting and restoring her uncle's soul. Which, fine, she understood that it was important, but she missed the days when her father would just drop everything for a few days just to spend time with her. The last time they did something like that was… she couldn't even remember. Was it before her dad made the deal to bring back Uncle Sammy or was there a time after that? She had gone to the park with Cas a few times after that, but her father? It was difficult to remember.

Unbeknownst to her, while she was mourning time lost with her dad, her uncle was planning how he would incapacitate Bobby in order to kill her so Death wouldn't be able to restore his soul. There was no way he would be able to get anywhere near her with the old man keeping an eye on him. When there was still thirteen hours left on the clock until Dean could take the ring off, Sam finally put his plan in motion. He crept quietly into the dark study up to Bobby, who had his back to him while studying the books on the shelf, trying to find something specific. When he was close enough, he grabbed Bobby from behind, pressing the chloroform-soaked cloth in his hand over the older hunter's mouth and nose.

Bobby struggled, protesting, but ultimately succumbed to the effects of the drug. Sam slowly lowered him to the floor, leaving him there. He brought the rag with him upstairs just in case. When he entered Mack's room, she was asleep fully-clothed on top of her blankets. The lights in her room were still on and he could see tear tracks from when she'd been crying earlier. Thinking he may be able to pull it off without the chloroform, he discarded the rag, creeping over and scooping her into his arms. She fussed a little, but didn't wake up. Smirking, Sam carried her out of the room and out to the garage. He figured if Bobby did wake up before he was finished, it would take him longer to find them out there.

Mack started to stir as he was tying her up in a chair. "U-Uncle Sammy? What are you doing?" she asked, terror painting her tone as she struggled against her restraints. "I have to do this, Mckinley. I can't let Dean succeed in getting my soul back." Tears began to fall down Mack's cheeks as Sam unsheathed a silver dagger. "N-no," she shook her head. "P-please." He fixed her with his cold, unfeeling eyes, no hint of remorse on his face. "Don't worry, I'll make it quick," he assured her. The words did little to make her feel better, and she tugged at the ropes around her wrists even harder. "No! Please! Daddy!"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dean materialized, blocking Sam's blow with the dagger and stopping him from stabbing her. "Hi, Sam. I'm back." He threw a right-hook, knocking Sam out. He then turned and started untying Mack. "D-Daddy," she sobbed. "Shh. It's okay, bug. I'm here. I got you." As soon as she was free, she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her close, shushing her and murmuring soothing words in her ear. Bobby wandered in and found them there, rubbing his head in confusion. Together, he and Dean managed to move Sam into the house and into the panic room where they cuffed him to the cot.

As soon as he was in place, Dean took Mack into his arms once more, rubbing her back soothingly. She was getting too big for him to hold, but he didn't care. "I can't keep doing this, Bobby," he sighed. "I mean, what am I gonna tie him up every time he tries to kill someone? And that's not gonna hold him. I mean, he's-"

"Capable of anything," Bobby finished. "What happened with the deal?" Dean sighed again, adjusting his grip on Mack. "It was hard, Bobby… so damn hard… There… there was a little girl, younger than Mack… I couldn't kill her. And that started this chain reaction, and I ended up killing her anyway… And then Tessa, the reaper, got this sinister look on her face and said there was someone new on the list…" He swallowed, burying his nose in Mack's hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I had to choose. Mack's life or Sam's soul."

"We'll figure it out, Dean," Bobby assured him. "How? This was my last resort, Bobby. The last ditch effort. There aren't any other options. I mean… what am I supposed to do here?" Bobby shook his head. "I don't know." Dean turned, carrying Mack upstairs with the intention of taking her to her room. However, before he could get far, he was stopped short by the sight of Death sitting at the kitchen table. "Dean. Join me. Brought you and the little one both one," Death indicated two extra hot dogs, "from a little stand in Los Angeles known for their bacon dogs. Sit."

Not one to refuse Death, Dean made his way over. Mack stayed on his lap, clinging tightly to his shirt. Neither his nor her hot dog were touched as they sat across from the Horseman. "Boy, what is it with you and cheap food?" Dean questioned. "I could ask you the same thing. Thought I'd have a treat before I put the ring back on. Heavier than it looks, isn't it? Sometimes, you just want the thing off. But you know that. Not hungry?"

Not particularly. Not after watching his brother nearly murder his daughter. "Look… I think you know I flunked. So there. Oh, and by the way, I, uh… I sucked at being you. Really screwed up the natural order thing. But I'm sure you knew about that, too." Death regarded him seriously, silent for a long moment. "So, if you could go back, would you simply kill the little girl? No fuss, no stomping your feet?" Dean bit his lip, looking down at Mack, who was half-asleep leaning against his chest. "Knowing what I know now, yeah," he murmured. "I'm surprised to hear that. Surprised and glad." He looked back up. "Yeah, well, don't get excited. I would have saved the nurse, okay? That's it."

"I think it's a little more than that. Today, you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite so fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it? This is hard for you, Dean. You throw your life away because you assume it'll bounce right back into your lap. But the human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine. So… I think you learned something today."

Feeling a surge of anger, Dean glared across the table at the Horseman. "You know what I think? I think you knew I wouldn't last a day." Death stared back at him evenly, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean didn't back down. "I lost. Fine. But at least I have the balls to admit that it was rigged from the jump."

"Most people speak to me with more respect."

Dean gulped, attempting to backtrack. "I didn't mean-" Death stood up. "We're done here. It's been lovely. But now I'm going to go to Hell and retrieve your brother's soul." Dean gaped, "Why would you do that for me?" The Horseman smirked, "I wouldn't do it for you. You Winchesters keep coming back. You're an affront to the balance of the universe, and you cause disruption on a global scale." Dean bit his lip, "I apologize for that." Death continued, "But you have use. Right now, you're digging at something. The intrepid Detective. I want you to keep digging, Dean."

"So, you're just gonna be cryptic, or…" Dean trailed off. "It's about the souls. You'll understand when you need to." Death turned to go. "Wait- with Sam…" Dean stopped him, "Is this wall thing really gonna work?"

"Call it seventy-five percent," Death replied, vanishing. "Bobby!" Dean called. He laid Mack down on the couch, rushing down the stairs to the basement. "Open the door," he barked. "What happened?" Bobby asked, confused. "Now!" They got the door of the panic room open. Death was approaching Sam with a bag, as Sam tried to back off as much as he could while cuffed to the cot. "Get away from me! Don't. Don't!" he yelled. "Now, Sam, I'm gonna put up a barrier inside your mind," Death told him calmly. "No, don't touch me," Sam protested.

"It might feel a little… itchy," Death took a seat on the cot next to Sam. "Do me a favor- don't scratch the wall. Trust me- you're not gonna like what happens." Sam shook his head emphatically, "Please. Don't do this." Death took Sam's soul out of his bag, moving to put it in his body. "No, no! You don't know! You don't know what'll happen to me! Dean, please! No. No. No." Sam began to scream as Death pushed his soul back into him. And then he fell unconscious and Death was gone.