Evolution

by Aethena618

my 1st Supernatural Fanfic! What if the effects of the Demon Blood showed up in Sam way earlier? AU. teen!chesters (Sam 15, Dean 19) to start, will probably move into the series later. WARNINGS: M for some violence, language. Some extreme child abuse. (I like John, think he obviously loved his sons. For this story, however, he's an abuse jerk who blames Sam for Mary's death

36. Chapter 36

Evolutions Chapter 36

A/N Sorry this one took so long. My only excuse is that (a) it's been kicking my ass, and (b) I was away for 2 weeks at the beginning of August, and have been struggling to find time to write every since. Hopefully the next Chapter will come faster.

Continuing Season 2, the conversation that happens in the first scene takes the place of the conversation between our boys at the end of Croatoan (s2e9) and the beginning of Hunted (s2e10). In this AU, it happens much earlier, but other than moving the conversation, Sam's powers have very little (basically, no) impact on the Season until All Hell Breaks Loose I & II (s2e21&22). You'll (hopefully) understand why.

While this starts AHBL II, there will be morae in the next chapter. This was already long (and late) so I thought I'd get it up.

BTW, for those who have asked - I am now a lurker on AO3, and once this is wrapped up, I'm going to take a (short?) break to re-edit and post this story over there. After that, I plan to dual post to both FF and AO3 for future stories.

I know this has been a long haul, and I really appreciate you hanging in there with me.

I live for feedback, so keep those reviews coming, PLEASE (don't make me beg)

-Aethena

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The Woods behind Singer Salvage

Sioux Falls, SD

Thursday, October 29, 2006 12:15 pm

Dean paused at the edge of what he still thought of as Sam's Meadow. Five years on, the only change was that Sammy was taller than him and more filled out. And that Dean was slightly less creeped out by the way the flowers (still growing in the same spiral) still faced the center of the spiral, where his baby brother now sat, once again meditating. His legs were crossed, his hands rested lightly on his knees and his head tilted back. The sun on his face and hair created a halo effect, making him look like an angel. A weird, low-rent angel; but an angel.

As if there were such a thing.

Slowly Sam lowered his head, looking in front of him and tilted his head from side to side to get out a few kinks. Six feet away, Dean could hear the pop and crack of the vertebrae.

"Hey," Sam said softly.

"Hey, yourself," Dean smirked. "No, don't get up," he urged as Sam started to pull his legs out of their crossed position, placing his hands on the ground to help leverage 6'-5" of Hunter off the meadow ground.

Dean moved to sit across from his brother, matching his relaxed position.

"What's up?" Sammy frowned and for a second or two, Dean regretted interrupting the end of Sammy's meditation session, knowing full well he was about to blow all that calm centeredness out of the water.

But he'd already put this off too long — they'd burned Dad's pyre almost a month ago and he'd just put the last finishing touches on the Impala, reinstalling an ashtray with a battered, old army man toy stuck in it into the armrest of the back seat.

It wasn't right — or fair — for Sammy not to know.

"We need to talk," Dean said, and Sammy tilted his head slightly again, his hair falling over his face, obscuring one eye.

"Okay," the kid agreed easily. "What about?"

Dean sighed, and looked away, letting his gaze travel over the trees lining the meadow. "About…Look," he said quickly, "I lied to you, and I'm sorry, but I had to…I was trying to wrap my own brain around it, and I couldn't…I - I just didn't…"

"Hey, hey," Sammy said softly and briefly rested a hand on Dean's knee, drawing his brother's gaze back to himself. "It's okay. Whatever it is, Dean, it's okay. What are we talking about? What did you lie about? If it was about hooking up with Rick's cousin Rachel last weekend, I already know."

"How did…never mind," Dean decided. "No, that's not it. I lied….you asked me, when we…you asked me if Dad said anything to me, before he…Before, at the hospital. I said 'No'. And…he did."

"Oh," Sam said, his voice still soft, and frowned. "And you…had to wrap your brain around it?" he repeated and nodded when Dean did. "And, have you? Wrapped your brain around…whatever it was?"

"Partly," Dean sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I should've told you, but…I just…"

Sam hummed softly. "He told you to kill me again, didn't he?" he guessed.

"Not…I mean, yeah, but…It was his reasoning that…Look, that's not all he said," Dean explained, a little sharply, reflex making him jump to their father's defense.

"Okay, So…."

"He said he was proud," Dean told him, his voice cracking slightly over the unfamiliar word.

"Of course, he was proud of you," Sam scoffed. "Why wouldn't he be? You are my awesome big brother, after all!"

"No," Dean shook his head. "I mean, yes, he said he was proud of me, but he said he was proud of you, too. He said…" he gave a little sniff, "he said we were both good men. And that he couldn't be prouder of his boys. Plural."

"Dad…really said that?" Sammy wondered and the wistful, disbelieving note in his voice cracked Dean's broken heart a little more.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. And then he…he told me he took responsibility for everything. For Mom dying, for, for everything he did to you. For dragging us all over the damn country on that stupid revenge quest. And then…and then he…he warned me. Something was coming for you."

"The Demon," Sammy shrugged, negligently.

"Yeah, but…He told me he didn't know what the Demon planned, for you or the other psychic kids, but…." Dean stopped and shook his head, looking away again.

"But, what?"

Dean made himself look his little brother in the eye. "He said you were different. Different from the other special kids. More…more powerful."

Sammy's eyes grew wide. "He said that?"

"Yeah. And then he said… he sa…Dammit," Dean muttered.

"That you have to kill me," Sam guessed. "Because I'm powerful."

There was no easy way to say it, no way to cushion the blow, and if he didn't just get it out, now, he knew he'd never say it at all. "He said you could end the world, Sam." Dean blurted out.

"End the…How?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I don't think Dad knew. But…Yeah. If the Demon got you, I'd have to kill you. Which I won't," he vowed. "I never would. I never could."

Sam nodded slowly and gave a quick, small smile to his distraught brother. "I know," Sammy said. "But…if I could end the world…"

"NO!" Dean said sharply. "You wouldn't. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, many times as you need to hear it: You are not evil. You're good, Sammy. All you've ever done is good."

"Yeah, but…Power corrupts," Sam reminded him quietly. "And if I'm really that powerful…"

"Don't care," Dean said decisively. "No way do you become corrupted. Not on my watch."

Sammy smiled sadly and nodded. "I know, Dean. I know." He sighed and looked down at the grass beneath him. "Still," he began.

"There's no still."

"If I'm that powerful," Sam continued, "and if that power could corrupt me — however unlikely that is," he hastened to add when Dean opened his mouth to argue, "there's one way to make absolutely sure it doesn't happen."

"I will NOT kill you!"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Sam assured him.

"What then?"

"Well if the power corrupts," Sammy said and shrugged. "Get rid of the power."

Dean blinked at him. "Bind your powers again?"

Sam nodded. "I don't see what else we can do."

"You don't…I will protect you, Sammy. Even from yourself."

This time, Sammy's smile was blinding. "I know you will. But you shouldn't have to, is my point. And anyway," he pushed on before Dean could argue further, "I think after everything that's happened lately, after everything Dad said…after everything the Demon said…I think we know what came for me…here."

Dean sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"And we already figured that Yellow-Eyes can track my powers. So, if that's the case, that's twice the reason. We bind my powers, the Demon can't find me, and I don't become Darth Vader."

"You're way more Luke than Vader," Dean scoffed. "You know, young. Innocent. Idealistic. Naive, still needing direction. Practically a virgin…" he quipped and just grinned when Sam straightened one leg to kick him. Dean watched his little brother's expression, taking in the determined look in the bi-colored eyes, the oh-so-familiar set of the jaw, all signs of Stubborn Sam. And god knew there was no stubborn like Winchester stubborn.

Dean let out a long, resigned sigh. "But you do have a point. Dammit, Sammy! I don't like the idea of you being out there, hunting, and…and…helpless."

Sam shot him a bitchface (#51 - SERIOUSLY?!). "I'm a Hunter, Dean," he reminded coldly. "And I'm a freaking WINCHESTER. Powerless or not, I'm hardly fuckin' helpless." He took a breath, looked over Dean's shoulder then met his brother's gaze again. "Besides," he added, more calmly, "I got you to watch my back."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Damn straight, you do."

"And powers or no, I got yours."

Dean smiled, the big shit-eating grin that crinkled his eyes and put laugh lines around his mouth and made Sam feel like the sun was shining just for him. "I know you do," Dean nodded.

For a moment, the brothers just smiled at each other, then Dean watched the smile slowly fade away from his brother's eyes, and a frown took the place of Sammy's grin.

"There's more, isn't there?" he ventured softly. "Something else Dad said that got you upset."

Dean shrugged. "It's not important."

"Tell me anyway."

Dean shook his head. "It's just…dude fuckin' lied to my face." Sam's frowned deepened. "After he dropped that crap on me, about you and the end of the world, he told me not to worry about it. That we'd talk about it — you and me, and Dad. We'd figure it out, the three of us together, and we'd—" He took a deep breath and made himself continue, even though his voice was shaking and his eyes were feeling prickly with tears he'd never shed. "He said we'd be a family again, Sammy. And then he…" Dean closed his eyes, trying to block out the thought, unable to say the words.

Sam nodded. "Traded the Colt. For you. And traded himself."

Dean nodded and sniffed hard, to pull the tears back in.

"Dean," Sammy said softly and put a hand on Dean's knee. "I know it's awful of me, and I didn't want him dead. It still hurts that he's gone and we'll never…" The kid bit his lips for a moment before continuing. "But I'm glad he did it. No," he corrected himself, before Dean could protest the idea that John's son would be glad he was dead. "Not glad. Grateful," he corrected. "Because if he hadn't done it, you'd've died," he said, his own voice soft and shaky. "Long before my concussion cleared up enough for me to save you. So…I mean, I wish he were here," Sam half-sobbed. "I wish…I would have worked to be a family again, Dean, you gotta know that."

"I know," Dean whispered. "Me, too."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement. "But if it's the choice between the two of you," Sam shrugged, "that's no choice for me. And you can't be pissed about that, either, because if the choice had been Dad or me…"

"That's no choice," Dean nodded. He took a deep breath and put his hand over the bear paw his brother still had on his knee. "Okay," he agreed. "We bind your powers."

"Okay," Sam nodded.

"But not the healing. You are way too big a clutz to be without your healing."

"I use it more for your sorry ass than for me, Jerk!" Sammy protested.

"Whatever, Bitch," Dean grinned. "And one more thing."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"We gonna do the same ritual we did before we headed to Stanford?"

"Yeah, more or less," Sam shrugged. "Worked once. I won't store the powers in a vial this time, though. Too risky, now that I'm actively hunting. I'll bind them so I can't access them without a counter spell, but they'll still be in me. Can't tell you the number of nightmares I had about breaking the fuckin' vial by accident."

"You and me both," Dean nodded. "That sounds good. But if you're doing the same spell, can we sheath the fucking knife, this time? You know, so you don't stab your own self in the back again."

"I know what to expect this time," Sam assured him — ineffectually, but Dean gave it to him that the kid at least tried. "And I…I am more powerful," he admitted with a shrug. "I don't think I'm gonna be quite that easy to toss around anymore."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled with half a shrug. "Maybe not. If nothin' else, you're an even bigger Sasquatch than last time!"

"No, I mean it," Sam insisted. "I was able to break myself free, when the Demon had us against the wall."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "And that's something else. Something that's been bugging me ever since then."

"What?"

"I mean, I know I was kind of out of it," Dean admitted, "but I thought…didn't he seem surprised you could do that?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. More than that. I don't think you could've heard it, but…He said something. He said I didn't, and then stopped himself."

"He didn't," Dean repeated "Didn't what?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. Didn't give me that power, maybe? LIke maybe all I'm supposed to be able to do, is the visions."

"Why that one?"

"Every vision — every vision I've had, has had something to do with the Demon, right? Jess's death. Mom's. Max Miller, he's one of the special kids, right? So, he got his power from the Demon, too. And that family in Salvation, they were next on the Demon's fucking hit list."

"Yeah, but you dreamt about those friends at college, too."

"Yeah, but those were dreams. Maybe, maybe the dreams about Jess and Mom weren't part of the pattern," he mused, talking things out as he thought it threw in a way that was just pure Sam. "Maybe the real pattern, those are the waking visions. Max and baby Rosie. Both connected to the Demon and the only time I saw something when I was awake. I get those from the Demon. From the, the Demon blood!"

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Dean wondered. "If that's true — and it makes some sense," he admitted, "but then…where does the rest of it come from? The, the telekinesis, the…prophetic dreams, the healing and the, the telepathy. Sammy, if that's not from the demon blood, then…" Dean shrugged, helplessly.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, his voice soft and more than a little scared. "Dean, what…" he trailed off and stared at the small space between them, then looked around at the flowers that were now straining towards him. "Dean," he whispered and met his brother's wide eyes, his own eyes shifted to that pale, translucent green Dean always associated with Sammy being afraid.

"Sammy, don't…"

Sam jumped to his feet. "No! I…I always thought that…the Demon blood, that, that taint…"

"You're not tainted, Sam," Dean protested and scrambled to his feet.

"…I always figured, that's, that's where it comes from. Everything I can do. Except, maybe the magick," he added, and Dean could practically hear the 'k'. "But if…if we're right, if the Demon really didn't know, then…why can…wh….Dean? What am I?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading and so scared that Dean would've given his right arm to take away that tone.

Dean huffed out a breath and pulled his panicking sibling into his arms, guiding the kid's face to rest against his neck. He cupped the back of Sammy's head in one hand and slowly rocked them side to side, just a little, and whispered the only truth he could. "You're my little brother," he said, as if that ended the discussion. "That's all that matters."

"But, Dean…"

Sammy tried to pull away, but Dean forced him back against him. "We'll figure the rest out, Sammy, we will. It's probably just…you're a natural born witch," he reasoned, "and there was no way for the Demon to know that when you were a whopping six months old. Probably the combination of the two is having some…effect."

Slowly, Sam pulled back and this time, Dean allowed it, although he kept one hand on the back of his kid's neck, anchoring Sam the way he'd been doing for decades. Anchoring them both, one to the other.

"You think?" Sam sniffed, and hastily rubbed the tears form his cheek, while Dean pretended not to notice.

"Yeah," Dean nodded decisively, as if he were the slightest bit sure. "Makes sense. The…the blood had an, an unexpected bonus!" he declared and Sam scoffed.

"Bonus.," Sam said drily. "Seriously."

"Absolutely," Dean doubled down. "The way you can heal us if a ghosty gets a little rough? The way you can open doors without anybody even being able to tell they were picked? Total bonus!" he persisted and nodded confidently, finally letting go of his kid.

"So…just the, the Demon blood, reacting with the witch," Sam said quietly, biting his lower lip. "I guess…I guess that could be. Couldn't it?"

"Course!" Dean scoffed as if there was never any reason to doubt. "Only possibility."

"So, I'm…I'm not a, a monster, then?"

Dean shot his brother a bitchface of his own and laughed. "Monster! You're no more a monster than I am," he assured his kid. "And I'm no monster. I'm just awesome!"

"Yeah," Sam breathed, and Dean pretended not to hear. "You are."

"Hey!" Dean smacked Sam's arm lightly. "It's lunchtime! Let's head back, whaddya say? Could you eat? I could eat," he decided and started down the path back to Bobby's.

For a moment, Sam stared after his awesome big brother. The only person in his life who had ever made him feel understood, and accepted, and just so damn loved, no matter what. He swallowed down the emotions he knew would just embarrass Dean and started after him.

"You can always eat," he pointed out, his voice dripping with put-upon little brother vibes.

"You say that like it's something bad…" Dean responded.

"It's a wonder you're not 300 pounds, the way you eat."

"What are you talking about? I'm in perfect shape. Only eat what I need to keep this lean, mean hunting machine going, Sammy!"

"You eat anything that's not nailed down. Or healthy…"

They kept on down the path, bickering, leaving the meadow behind.

Never seeing the way the flowers waved slightly, one after another, in a slow, steady line starting just behind where Dean had been sitting, continuing towards the woods on the far side of the meadow.

Just as if someone was walking away.

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All Hell Breaks Loose, Parts I and II

Cold Oak, SD

April 29, 2007

Sam woke up, suddenly, starring up at a cloudy sky he instinctively knew wasn't the sky he'd last seen.

Well, for one thing, it was daytime, and he'd gone into the Diner at night, to get Dean his damn extra onions and pie.

Dean.

For a second, he considered calling out, but stopped himself. Dean wasn't here, he knew that, could feel the absence of his big brother in his bones. He always knew if Dean was nearby, it was like a warmth that he never noticed when it was there, but left him so damned cold when it — when Dean — wasn't there.

So, he was on his own then, at least for now. That realization was enough for his Hunter's instincts to break through the disorientation, and he stood slowly, looking around.

Where the hell was he? The town — if it was a town, because while it looked like a town, if there was one thing a Hunter knew, it was to never take anything at face value — looked like something out of one of those old westerns his brother was so obsessed with.

The thought brought Dean to the forefront of his brain, again. He needed to contact Dean, before anything else.

He pulled out his cell and was disappointed — but not particularly surprised — when there was no signal.

Okay, can't call Dean. What's the next order of business?

Figure out where you are, he could almost hear his Dad's voice reminding him.

He started to walk, looking at the different buildings, checking doors and looking in windows for any signs of life.

He found himself in front of a large, rusted bell. "Cold Oak?" he whispered to himself. "How the hell…AHHGHH." The sudden pain in his head dropped him to his knees, his hands pressing against his forehead in an effort to push the pain away.

Like that ever worked.

He gave himself over to the vision, knowing that if he fought it his brain would feel as if it were going to liquify instead of merely explode.

Smoke.

Fire crackling.

The smell of…god, he wished that were barbecue, but he'd been to too many funeral pyres, done salt and burns on the remains of too many angry ghosts not to recognize the scent.

And underlying it was the stench of sulfur.

A warped, screaming figure crawled across the floor towards him, a face he knew, turning black with soot and heat and starting to crisp as the long hair in the back, the short hair up front started to burn and the screams that came from the dying —that came from every side — wrapped around him like a noose dragging him into the hell he could all but taste…

Sam's eyes snapped open, and he sat heavily on the ground, panting for breath, wiping the blood dripping out of his nose before he even felt it. "Oh, fuck, the Roadhouse," he muttered and reached for his phone before remembering how useless that was.

Then again, when did he need a signal, or even a phone to contact his brother? He was a little disgusted that he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Still unsure of why he was in an abandoned, haunted town in South Dakota — but instinctively knowing it couldn't be good — Sam moved between a pair of buildings, and planted himself against a corner between a wall and a jutting chimney, protecting himself from attack on two sides as he closed his eyes and let his mind reach so much further than he'd ever tried before…

Dean?

Sammy!? A wave of relief washed over him at the sound of big brother's voice, even if it was just in his head, too soft, as if it were a bad phone line, but blessedly there. Thank god! What the fuck…

I don't know…

I mean, everybody in that damn diner was dead…

Dean, listen to me…

Throats slit and I found sulfur and I…

DEAN! Listen to me, dammit!

Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just so good to hear your…voice. Where the hell are you?

Cold Oak, South Dakota, but…

Okay, sit tight I'm on my way…

God dammit, Dean, will you just LISTEN TO ME?

Right. Sorry.

Don't worry about me right now, I'm okay, I'm not hurt. You need to get Bobby, and you need to call the Roadhouse.

Ellen's place? Why…

You call and you talk to Ellen or Ash or Jo and you tell them to clear out, them and everybody else there, get somewhere safe from a demon attack.

Sam…

They're gonna die, Dean. Everybody in the Roadhouse is going to die.

How…

I saw it. A, a daylight vision, so it's the Demon, comin' for 'em.

Sam…

I saw. Ash. BURN, Dean. I saw him burn alive. I felt the heat. I, I fuckin' SMELLED it, man. So you do what you need to do. You call and then you fuckin' get there and you save them. When everybody's safe, you come to Cold Oak, you got me?

Yeah, yeah, I'll send…

NO! We can't trust this to anybody else, Dean, just you and Bobby. Ellen and Ash and Jo, they know what I can do, they'll listen to you. Nobody else is gonna… Look it's soon, and I don't how I know that, but it's soon, not more 'n a day, probably more like hours. Once Ellen and Ash and everybody are safe, once you're sure they're okay, THEN, you come and get me. I'll be all right until then.

Sammy, I don't like this, man.

I know. Me either, but…I'll be okay. Just…do the job and come get me.

Yeah. All right, brother. You hang tight, I'll call the Roadhouse, head over there if I can't get anybody on the phone, pick up Bobby and we'll get to you as soon as we can.

A noise to his left had Sam coming to attention, looking for a weapon. I gotta go, I hear something. I'll catch you later.

Yeah. Be careful, Sammy.

You, too, Sam responded and let the connection go dark.

When he turned a corner and ran into Andy, of all people, then minutes later found Ava (finally), his relief that he wasn't alone was quickly replaced by a sickening dread. Finding that kid Jake and the girl Lily didn't help.

The demon had brought them here, all of them, and if that were true…

His initial instincts were right. Nothing good was coming out of this.

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"…A fire, Dean?" Ellen's voice came over the tinny cellphone speaker. "Are you sure?"

"Sammy's sure," Dean replied, as if that settled the matter.

Apparently Ellen agreed. "Well, I trust you boys. We'll clear out."

"Be careful, El," Bobby yelled from where he stood looking at the map spread out on the Impala's hood, while Dean held the phone out in his general direction. "We know it's something to do with the Demon that John was hunting, but we don't know who — or what — that bastard is after."

"I think I do," Ash said, his voice faint as Ellen shared the receiver.

"Ash? What've you got?" Dean wondered.

"I ain't sure what it means, and I don't want to talk about it over an insecure line. We'll hunker down here, and after you get Sam, swing on by and we'll talk."

"You can't stay there, Ash! Haven't you been listening?"

"It's okay, Dean," Ellen assured him. "We're not even open yet, not officially. Just me and Ash and Gregor, one of the regulars, sleeping off a long night. I'll throw Gregor out, and Ash and I'll hightail it out back."

"I don't think that little inn you got back there is going to help…" Dean frowned.

"Not what you've seen, no, but my Bill was a good hunter, and a paranoid sumbitch to go with it. When he built the rooms out back, he built 'em on top of our own little supernatural bomb shelter. Two layers of 12 inch solid concrete blocks, 6 inch concrete ceiling and floor, and an airlock door system. Isolated HVAC, its own power supply, vents are completely camouflaged and let out about half a mile away, and an airlocked emergency bolt hole out the back. Whole thing is warded up the wazoo, and the ceiling and floor in both airlocks are covered with demon traps, with the added protection of a speaker system that's set up to play a recorded exorcism. Safest place on earth from a demon attack or a fire. They can burn everything down above, and we'll still be fine, sitting back, sipping whiskey and grillin' steaks out of a deep freeze on a camp stove."

"Well, hell, no wonder he and Dad were friends," Dean grinned. "What about Jo?"

Ellen sighed. "She ain't here, honey. She's out hunting. I get a postcard once in a while. If Sam specifically saw the Roadhouse, she should be safe enough, but I'll try to give her a call, let her know what's up. Don't you worry about us, sweetheart, you just get that brother of yours. When he's safe, you just call back here, there's a phone down in the bunker that answers the same line, but off a different, buried trunk, so they can't cut it."

"Okay," Dean sighed. "Okay. You guys stay safe and we'll be in touch when we have Sammy."

"Good luck, Dean," Ash said.

"And be careful," Ellen added.

"Back at ya." Dean hung up. He turned back to Bobby, who was standing over map spread out over the hood of the Impala. "So, what do ya think are we looking at? How many demons, how strong are they?"

Bobby stood up, stretching his back before taking his hat off and scratching his head. "Well, that's the thing, Dean," he frowned, and gestured to the map. "That's all the demon signs I've found for the last month."

Dean scowled at the map. "There's nothing there, Bobby."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, boy," Bobby shrugged. "There's no signs of demons I can find in the Lower 48 at all. I'm just glad you heard from Sam, and he told you where he is, cause there's no way of finding him based on what hell's denizens are doing."

"Is that…good or bad?" Dean wondered and opened the driver's door, while Bobby grabbed the map and walked around to settle into the shotgun seat.

Sammy's seat, Dean thought with a sigh.

"Beats me," Bobby admitted and closed his door.

"At least, we do know where he is," Dean nodded and started the car, checking the (nonexistent) traffic before pulling out onto the two lane blacktop.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed and refolded the map. "Bad news is, Cold Oak is still about a 5 hour drive."

Dean shot him a cocky, lopsided grin. "Not today it ain't," he assured the older hunter and put his foot down, heading for the setting sun.

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Cold Oak, SD

April 30, 2007

4:47 a.m.

Jake let Ava's body drop to the ground, and followed Sam outside.

"Jake, we gotta talk," Sam began. "The demon, the one behind this…"

"The yellow-eyed man?" Jake guessed and smirked at Sam's surprise. "Yeah, I met him. Kinda. He came to me in a, a vision or somethin'. Says only one of us is gonna make it out of here alive."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Sam assured him.

"I think it does," Jake said sadly.

"No, Jake, listen, my brother and me, our dad, we've been hunting this bastard a long ass time."

"Yeah?"

"Since I was a baby. Since my mom died, when I six months old. He killed her."

"Ah, man," Jake said softly. "I can't imagine…losing your mom…" he trailed off, looking at the ground and for a second Sam thought there was something…

But there was no time.

"I've faced him before, Jake," Sam said urgently. "He almost killed my dad, my brother. He possessed my dad, man, but I…I stopped him, Jake. I stopped him, and I can do it again."

"Stopped him?" Jake frowned. "How?"

"I have…other powers," Sam admitted, "power He didn't give me, including telekinesis. I was able to pull that bastard right out of my dad. I couldn't kill him, not then, but I sent him straight back to Hell."

"Telekinesis?" Jake repeated. "You said all you could do was visions. And if you can fight demons with your mind, why the hell didn't you do something about the, whatchacallit, acheri?"

"Well, first, I was able to pull the demon out of my dad when he was possessed but the acheri, it wasn't possessing somebody. And I…okay, I bound my telekinesis, all right? But I can get it back in under a minute, easy."

"If it's so damn easy, why the hell you haven't done it by now?" Jake challenged. "People been dying here, Sam, and you could maybe do somethin' about it, and you don't?"

"Jake, it's not that…' Sam reached for the man he'd been starting to consider, if not a friend, at least a potential ally.

Jake pulled his arm away from Sam's touch. "No, man, we ain't friends," Jake decided, pulling away. "You been lyin' since I met you!"

"Everything I've said to you was the truth!"

"No, it's not. All that crap in the barn about you not knowing if we're gettin' outta here, and all the time, you had the power to stop this bastard and aren't using it!"

"He's not here, Jake!" Sam reminded him. "I only saw him in my head, in a dream. So did you! But if we go against him, together, with your strength and my telekinesis, we can beat him."

"I don't know…"

"I do! Look, last time, when he was in my dad, that was months ago. I'm stronger now, and I'd been hurt, weakened, at the time. I can take him now, I might be able to actually kill it, if you have my back…"

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. "He said you'd do this," he sneered, and Sam frowned.

"Wha…who…"

"The demon," Jake explained. "He said you'd try to talk me into working with you."

"Just proves he's afraid of what will happen if we do."

"He only wants one of us to walk out of here, man, you know that."

"I do," Sam agreed, "but we don't have to do what he wants!"

"I think we do," Jake countered, sadly. "Cause he told me, man. He said what he'd do if two or more of us worked together, if more than one of us got out. He'd kill us both."

"He can't. He needs us. I don't know exactly for what, but he needs us, and not just to lead his damn army or whatever."

"Maybe," Jake shrugged. "Maybe that's so, I don't know. But I do know one thing, for damn sure. He told me what would happen if we worked together, and it wasn't just killing us. He said he'd…he'd go after my family, man! My moms an' my little sister. He said he'd kill 'em both."

"We can protect them," Sam vowed. "Me, my brother, my Uncle Bobby — that's what we do, protect civilians."

Jake shook his head. "I don't know you, man. I don't know if anything you say is true. You've already lied to me, I don't know that you're not lying now…."

"Demons lie."

"Maybe. But he got no reason to lie to me, and maybe you do. All I know is he threatened my kid sister and my moms, man. And he said if only one of us made it out, even if it weren't me, he'd protect them, both of them, from what's comin'. Set 'em up for life. Keep 'em safe."

"Do you know what's coming, Jake? Do you know what he needs to keep them safe from? Cause I got a pretty good idea," Sam told him.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"He told me he already had an army, just needed a leader. I only know of one army he could possibly have: a Demon Army. Can you picture it, Jake, because I can. That acheri? It's not even all that strong. And we'd be talking hundreds, maybe thousands of demons, walking the earth. Takin' whatever they can, whoever they can, and killing everywhere they go. That's what demons do, Jake. They attack. They kill. They torture. They just cause as much chaos and, and death, and, and pain as they can."

"Maybe," Jake nodded. "But not to my family."

"You're not that selfish."

"Ain't I? Cause you know me so well."

"Because I know soldiers. It's not like you were drafted, man, you volunteered. Even knowing you may not get back alive. Because it was the right. Thing. To Do."

Jake shook his head. "Because my moms can't afford to send me to college, and I didn't want a ton of debt," he countered. "Because I could learn a trade, and then come back and go to college, get a good job, help send my little sister to school, so she can be somebody. She ain't gonna be anybody if she's dead."

"I don't believe that."

"Yeah? Well, I don't believe anything you're saying. You say we can be some kind of damn team, against a fuckin' DEMON, man. From what I can tell, a damned powerful one. An' you already lied once. Maybe you just want me to think we're working together, so you can turn on me."

"I wouldn't do that. I won't do that."

"I don't know that."

"Okay," Sam agreed. "Fair enough." Slowly, carefully, keeping his right hand up, he opened his jacket and pulled out his knife, laying it on the ground.

For a moment, Jake just looked at him, then followed suit, laying his bar of iron on the ground.

"Okay, good," Sam smiled, relieved to have talked some sense into Jake and turned slightly to take another look around them. "If we go through the woods…."

And then he was flying.

The fight was fast and brutal, and something so dark inside him wanted to bash Jake's brains in, once he had him unconscious on the ground. But that's what the demon would want, and he'd be damned himself if he did what that bastard wanted.

"Sam!"

He turned toward the familiar voice of home and safety and stumbled down the muddied street, calling out when Dean and Bobby came into sight. "Dean!"

"SAM, LOOK OUT!"

He had a second to regret he hadn't had the time to unbind his telekinesis during the fight and then a pressure, a pain filled him from the back inwards, reaching up through his spine and into his lower chest.

He felt his healing start, stutter, come to a stop as the extent of the injury overwhelmed all his systems, all his power.

He felt something pulled back out of him, felt the heat of the blood pooling as much in his abdomen as on his back, and staggered forward…

His last thought was that, if Dean running towards him was the last thing he'd ever see… well, it wasn't the worst way to die.

=====SPN======SPN======SPN=====SPN===

Cold Oak, SD

May 2, 2007

6:22 am

Sam's awoke suddenly, full of confusion and — just for the briefest moment — the kind of peace he'd never, in 22 1/2 years, ever known.

And then it was gone, replaced by a soreness in his right arm and a burning pain in his mid-lower back.

It took him a moment to orient himself. He was lying on his back, on a lumpy mattress in what looked like an old, half-rotted house.

So, still Cold Oak, then, he thought and it started to come back to him.

Andy, Ava, Lily.

The dream visit from the Yellow-eyed Demon.

Jake.

Who could still be around someplace, waiting to gank Sam.

Not going to make it easy for you, this time, buddy, Sam thought and sat up on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, (semi-successful) centering breath before saying the words he should've said the minute he'd first woken up in this god forsaken town.

"Potestatem meam remitto ad me. Eam libera, per corpus et animam iterum discurrens."

He winced with pain as his whole, battered, sore body convulsed and the long-denied power coursed through him once more.

And now that he wasn't a fucking helpless idiot, he could take stock.

He stood, stiffly, and moved to the mirror hanging across from the foot of the bed, and pulled up the back of his shirt, looking at the large, red scar running down his spine from just below the bottom of his rib cage almost to the top of his jeans.

And the rest of it came flooding back.

…Trying to convince Jake that they could defeat the yellow-eyed demon together, that neither of them needed to die…

…Thinking he'd succeeded, only to feel a punch that sent him flying through the air…

…Jake lying on the ground and Sam, standing above the unconscious boy, actually thinking about killing the son of a bitch, but stopping himself, because he wasn't about to let that yellow-eyed bastard turn him into a murder after fighting his dark side for so long…

Staggering down the road toward that familiar voice, only to feel what at the time had felt like a white hot pain, which he now realized must have been his own fucking knife stabbing through his back, between his vertebrae, severing his spinal column and continuing inward, halfway through his body with more force than a human being should be able to wield — more force than any normal human could have brought to bear, but Jake hadn't been any more normal than Sam himself…

…The severing of his vein, and the incredible pain and pressure as his abdomen filled with blood, constricting his heart and preventing his lungs from inflating until….

He died.

He. Had. DIED.

But here he was, alive and kicking and royally pissed, because there was only one thing in heaven or on earth that could have — that would have — brought him back

A slight scuff from the front of the cabin, a sound that set all his Hunter's instincts on edge.

He turned to face the intruder….

======SPN=======SPN=========SPN=======SPN===

Cold Oak, SD

May 2, 2007

6:43 am

The half hour drive back from the crossroads, and the 15 minute hike through the woods to the little house at the very end of the main street in Cold Oak, had been the longest drive and walk of Dean's life, filled with doubt and worry.

What if the Crossroads Demon lied? What if she was right, and she got in trouble and the contract was canceled?

What if, after all this, he got back to the stupid cabin in this stupid town and Sam was still….

God, he couldn't even think it. It couldn't be true, it couldn't.

Because he actually did know what he'd do then.

The whole drive and walk back, he'd pictured it, planned it meticulously.

He'd wrap his Sammy in the blanket in the back seat of the Impala, the one they'd shared as kids, the one that he'd tucked around his little brother so many times, when he was injured, or overtired, or overwhelmed with the loss of his girl — had that really only been two and a half years ago?

He'd carry Sammy from the cabin and put him, sitting upright, in the back seat of his baby, and douse the whole car in gasoline, inside and out.

He'd call Bobby, let him know he wasn't coming back. Apologize, maybe, for being so fucking weak, unable to do his damn job and Keep Sammy Safe.

He'd be sorry to cause pain for their surrogate father, but there'd be no remorse, no hesitation as he crawled into the backseat, pulling his baby brother into his arms for the last time.

He'd douse himself with gas, light his lighter and eat his gun.

The lighter would fall, and the pair of them would go out in a Blaze of Glory.

Together, like it should be.

Because Dean could go to Hell, face a thousand years of torture, if it kept Sammy safe and alive.

But he could never, ever live without him.

He just wasn't that strong.

When he reached the cabin, he stood on the overgrown walkway, staring at the front door, heart pounding in his chest, fighting to pull every breath into his lungs, past the uncertainty and pain and hurt at even the thought that it hadn't worked, that the Crossroads Demon had lied.

But there was only one way to know for sure, and he couldn't stay out here if Sammy actually were alive and alone inside.

He walked slowly, cautiously up the rickety steps and to the front door, fully aware of the knowledge that he might be walking into his own execution. Or at least its prelude.

His heart leapt to see Sammy upright, breathing, blessedly alive…

And jacking him up against the wall so hard he felt his teeth rattle.

"Sam, it's me!" he squeaked, mortified at the high pitch.

"I know that," Sam growled, and pulled him slightly forward, only to slam him against the wall again, pulling him up a little higher this time, so their eyes were level, and Dean's toes barely touched the floor. "What did you do?"

"Sammy, don't you remember? You were attacked by some kid," Dean said (mostly) calmly and put his hands on his brother's wrists in a manner he hoped was more soothing than desperate.

Sam scoffed and Dean tried — and failed — not to stagger when the kid let go. He'd probably have fallen flat on his face if Sam hadn't pushed a hand against his chest to keep him upright.

"How long?" Sam said softly, shaking his head.

"You were unconscious for two days," Dean explained. "Bobby had a hell of a time

stopping the bleeding, patching you up, but…"

"DON'T!" Sam snapped and Dean stiffened, fully expecting to be shoved into the wall again.

"Don't what?" he asked, all innocence — not actually a natural look for him, but he thought he pulled it off.

"Don't. Lie to me," Sam growled, putting his face directly into Dean's so their noses were almost touching.

"I'm not, I…."

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam's palm slapped against the wall next to Dean's head and Dean couldn't hide his flinch. "Knock it off!"

"Sam…." Dean began, lifting a hand placatingly as he slipped to the side and took two cautious steps away from the fucking wall, glancing at it briefly. He was not entirely surprised to see the outline of a Sasquatch paw imprinted into the crumbling plaster, inches from a round indentation he knew would match the back of his skull.

"Sit down!" Sam ordered and a chair slid across the floor and slammed into the back of his knees.

So the kid had finally unbound his telekinesis. Cool, cool. That explains how easily he jacked you up, he lied to himself.

Dean fell gracelessly into the chair and glared up at his furious brother. "You just had to ask," he muttered. "Look, Sammy," he tried again.

"It's SAM."

"Sam," Dean corrected himself — for the moment. "You just woke up, dude. You're probably sore and I can see that you're hangry. You wanna eat?"

"Wha…"

"You hungry? I'm starved."

Sam sighed and hung his head. "Of course you are…" he sighed and followed Dean to the dining table, where Dean dug into the cold fried chicken Bobby had brought (was it only last night?), supplemented by one- and two-day-old leftover chinese and pizza that was probably only marginally safe to eat.

"So tell me what the hell happened after you disappeared, huh?" Dean pressed, wolfing down another piece of pizza.

"You first," Sam challenged. "To start with, did you get a hold of Ellen or Ash?"

"Yeah, yeah, man. They're safe. Roadhouse burnt to the ground, just like you said, but they're safe. They should be at Bobby's now, got a call just before we…we found you."

"Mm-hmm. Good, that's good," Sam said, his voice too controlled, way too calm for Dean's comfort. "And then you found me. And what happened, Dean? What did you do?"

"Well, that kid stabbed you in the back," Dean said, his voice cracking only slightly at the memory. "You remember that?"

"Yeah."

"Who was that anyway?"

"His name's Jake, I'll tell you all about it later. What did you do?"

"Well, Bobby tried to catch him, but he lost him in the woods. I, Bobby and I carried you here. Bobby stopped the bleeding, patched you up long enough for your, your healing to take effect and then…well, just been waiting for you to wake up."

Sam stood slowly, and leaned across the table towards him, his bi-colored eyes practically throwing sparks, kid was so pissed off. "I told you," he said coldly, "Don't. Fucking. Lie. To me, Dean."

"I'm not!" Dean was embarrassed to squeak out again.

"I KNOW what happened, Dean," Sam assured him. "Jake tore straight through my spine, cut my vein. I was bleeding internally, and I wasn't fast enough to fix it before I bled out inside my chest, Dean! I. DIED. So, What," he yelled, slamming a fist on the table hard enough to cause a crack, "Did. You. DO?!"

"MY JOB!" Dean yelled back, standing up fast enough his chair tipped over. "I saved you, Sammy!" he added, his voice cracking. "Like I'm supposed to do."

Sam huffed out a breath and sat slowly in his chair. He ran his hands down his face, his big palms absorbing part of the muttered "You stupid ass," but Dean heard it anyway.

When Sam's hands lowered to the table again, his face was calm, almost cold, with that controlled fury he sometimes got on a bad hunt. "How long."

"I told you, you were here for two…."

"HOW. LONG."

For a moment, Dean just stared into the depths of his baby brother's eyes, quickly testing, and discarding, a dozen different responses in his mind, before he realized there was only one thing he could do now.

"A year."

"A ye—" Sammy's voice broke and Dean watched him fight back the tears. "You stupid son of a bitch," he whispered, and stood up from the table, walking away to look out a window at the growing dawn.

"Sammy…"

"No!" Sam ground out, not looking back. "Just….shut up, Dean."

Dean put his pizza down, his appetite suddenly gone again, and waited to see what Sammy said next.

Nothing, that's what Sammy said next, just stood there, staring out the fucking window, until Dean couldn't stand it any more.

"You can't be mad at me about this," Dean told him, fighting — failing — to keep his voice from breaking.

Sam turned quickly from the window, his blue-green eyes sparkling with the tears that flowed steadily down his cheeks. "No?" he challenged. "Watch me."

"Sammy…" Dean stood and crossed to stand in front of his kid, putting his hands gently on the giant, tense shoulders. "I couldn't let you die, man. I couldn't. I can't…" He stopped fighting and let his own tears fall as he pulled his brother — his furious, crying, shaking, living, breathing brother into his arms, letting himself hold him, his hand against the back of Sammy's head as he guided his brother's face to the side of his neck, reveling in the feel of the shaking breath against his skin.

Proof of life.

"I can't live without you, Sammy," he whispered into the mop of hair, so softly he was sure Sammy wouldn't even hear him. "I don't know how."

But, of course, Sammy did hear.

Sam's arms came up around Dean's back, one hand coming to rest at the back of Dean's neck, and some tense, almost shriveled part of Dean unfurled at the touch.

"Bastard!" Sammy growled. "Selfish son of a…" He pushed Dean back a few inches so they could look each other in the eyes, but kept a hand on the back of Dean's neck, as Dean kept a hand on the back of his own. "You think I do?"

"What?"

"Know how to live without you, asshole," Sam explained.

"Sam…" Dean protested when Sam finally broke away and returned to look out the window again.

"It's been a year since Dad made his deal for you," Sam said angrily. "A fuckin' year of listening to you talk about how unfair it was, how much better it would've been if Dad had just let you die. How hard it was knowing Dad was in Hell and it was Your. Fault."

"Sammy," Dean took a step forward.

"And now you're going to do the same thing to ME?" Sammy yelled and spun around, fist flashing out so quickly that Dean didn't have a chance to even flinch, much less block it, and the elder Winchester found himself abruptly sitting on his ass. "You…son of a…!"

Dean looked up at his brother, standing over him, fists still clenched, looking about as wrecked as he'd ever seen him, his face covered in tears and snot, contorted with pain so deep it tore at Dean's soul.

"So, I'm a selfish bastard!" Dean yelled back. "That's not exactly a newsflash, Sammy," he added and thought for half a second of climbing to his feet, then looked at how tightly Sam's oversized fists were clenched and still raised to hit, and thought better of it.

"You don't even care that you're going to Hell, you stupid…"

"Yeah, I'm going to Hell," Dean agreed. "But you're alive, Sammy, and that means more to me, than, than…"

"Your SOUL?"

"YES!" Dean shouted.

For a second the brothers just stared at each other, each a little surprised by the turn the conversation had taken.

"Yes," Dean repeated, suddenly calm. "Absolutely. You're alive, Sammy. That's all that matters."

Som scoffed and dropped his arms, his fists disappearing into trembling hands. One of them reached out towards his brother. "Get up off the floor, Dean."

Dean stared at the offer hand for a second. "Why? So you can hit me again?" he wondered, even as he took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"I'm not going to hit you," Sam sighed, all the fight suddenly leaving him. "Although, I should," he added, giving Den a side eye. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam sat gingerly on the window sill, and leaned back against the glass. "I'm sorry I — dented the wall with you."

"And damn near broke my jaw," Dean added, rubbing the bruise beginning to form.

"No, that you had comin'."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, probably."

"Seriously, Dean," Sam said sadly, rubbing absently at the soreness that still remained in his right shoulder, where Jake had all but shattered the joint what seemed, to Sam, to be mere hours ago. "It's exactly what Dad did to you, man. And it ripped you apart. What do you think it's gonna do to me?" he all but sobbed.

"I know," Dean nodded and leaned against the window beside him. "I know."

Sam roughly rubbed one hand down his face, clearing away the tears and mess and huffed a short, humorless laugh. "I notice you're not apologizing."

"I'm not sorry," Dean admitted with a shrug. "That I'm sorry for. The, the not-being-sorry part," he clarified. "But the doin' it? Savin' you? No, man," he shook his head and wiped his own tears away. "I'm never gonna be sorry for that."

Sam sniffed and nodded, shifting just slightly so their shoulders were barely touching. "I know. I know you're not. Which still makes you an asshole," he added. "But…" A long sigh left him and he dropped his head against his brother's. "…I'd'a probably done the same thing."

"Not allowed," Dean countered and reached up to thread a hand through Smamy's hair, holding him against him. "That's the big brother's job, little brother. Keepin' you safe."

"Yeah?" Sam scoffed. "Well, then I guess it's the little brother's job to clean up big brother's mess."

Dean frowned, suspiciously. "What does that mean?"

"I'm gonna get you out of this, Dean," Sam vowed and twisted to pull Dean fully into his arms. "I swear I will."

"You can't…" Dean started to protest, and gave up when the Sasquatch arms only tightened around him.

"No? Watch me."

==========SPN======SPN=====SPN=====SPN====

A/N So, yeah, we're starting to go even more AU now, saving people while the Winchesters hunt things :~). It's my world, and I'm gonna fix a few things, dammit.

HVAC is an acronym for Heating, Ventilation and Air Conditioning.

It is possible for a room to be built as I indicated, all 4 walls, ceiling and floor made of concrete and essentially fireproof.

An "air locked" door system is a set of two doors with some floor space between them. In a true airlocked system like the one Bill Harvelle built, one set of doors must be fully closed before the next set can be opened.

The Lower 48 is the contiguous United States on the North American Continent. Basically, every state except Alaska and Hawaii.

The Latin Sam uses to release his telekinesis is, as always, translated by an app from the English: I release my power back to me. Set it free, running again through my body and soul.

As for the Demon Deal, I've always had a huge issue with how long it took Sam to figure out what Dean did. Sam's willingness to just believe that even Bobby could've fixed him up from a wound he clearly knew was very serious, was bad enough, but he apparently was also supposed to buy that Bobby would fix something that serious and then just leave him there, alone with Dean, in a dirty old cabin/house thing, with no meds and no bandages? Sam Winchester is not. That. Stupid.