SPN: Lazarus (The Only Way Out is Through Me), Dean/Sam, R - part 1

[kowaiyoukai]

Title: Lazarus (The Only Way Out is Through Me)
Author: kowaiyoukai
Rating: R (sadly)
Warning(s): Incest, angst like WHOA, tiny bits of fluff, superemo!Sam, potentiallyevil!Sam, inscrutable!Dean, plotdevice!BobbyandEllen, unnecessarily confusing plot.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Spoilers: Everything, up to and including the end of season 3.
Word Count: 20,515 HOLY SHIT PEOPLEZ. Or as siriuslyyellow said, "Holy shit, what did you do?!"
Challenge: siriuslyyellow, deal, Hell, rescue, "I knew you would come."
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. No profit is being made from this fanfiction.
Beta Acknowledgment: siriuslyyellow. She beta'd the first half this morning, and so any errors within are completely mine. She was rushed due to my procrastination and also, wordiness.
Summary: A story of things coming full circle. The beginning and the end were the same, for them.
A/N: Written for the June 2008 round of wincest_fic. Now, I know I did her challenge last month, and I specifically wasn't going to do another challenge for siriuslyyellow this month. I had it in my mind and everything. It was like a mantra. But she CAPTURED ME VICIOUSLY using bait that she knew I could not resist! I knew I was going to do her challenge as soon as I saw it. It's not fair. She's my twin so she knows these things about me, like my weakness for angst. She can play me like a fiddle. I even CHEATED and started this fic earlier than the 6th! OH! The agony of it all! Blame her and not me. It is not my fault! She lured me! This challenge was the bait, and I've been hooked like a wriggling fish out of water! You should feel bad for me, really you should. Also, wtf my mind?! Where is the wincest? When am I getting to the wincest?! That's what I thought for the first few thousand words (read: vast majority) of this. ;_; I wish I had more time with this, to get it to be more like how I pictured it to be, but it's the 30th and sometimes you just have to accept the inevitable.

Also, if Sam's eyes are the wrong color, it's my fault. After looking at icons, screenshots, and posters, it was still a choice between brown, green, and blue. Do they change Sam's eye color for the shit of it, or is it just me? O.o;;

This is like an EPIC. I demand feedback of epic proportions in response.







Sam didn't remember a time when Dean wasn't there. In fact, the only times he could recall when Dean had been absent were when he had been at Stanford, and even then Dean had seemed to be waiting for him just outside his vision. Sometimes, when a class had gone on for too long or he had stayed at the library working on a report until it closed, Sam expected Dean to be waiting for him, outside, leaning against the nearest wall and looking bored and slightly irritated at having been so put out. He expected Dean to be there, always, ready to lead Sam into some dangerous situation that he would also save Sam from, when the time came.

Dean was always the one doing the saving, Sam thought. Even when he wasn't there, even then, it was still Dean who led him, who saved him. Sam never thought it would be any other way.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The most obvious answer was also the hardest. Use his demon powers. If he trained himself to use his powers, he could kill Lilith and get Dean. It would be tough, he was sure. There would be hundreds of demons out to kill him, but since Lilith's powers didn't work on him, he figured he didn't have too much to worry about.

"Sam."

After all, the demons who followed Lilith couldn't be more powerful than she was. Otherwise, they would fight her and win. That was how demons worked—they all wanted power. They all wanted to rise to the top of the food chain. So, he would have to get past lots of weak demons. That wouldn't be too much of a problem… as long as they didn't gang up on him.

"You've got to get up."

Even if they did attack him all together, he knew he had demons that supported him. If he could gather his backers up and explain that he was willing to take control of the army, he was sure they would still support him. They'd been waiting for him to start fighting against Lilith. They would probably be overjoyed at the thought of finally getting rid of her.

"Sam."

The only problem he could think of was if those demons had changed sides. They were demons, after all. There was no guarantee he could count on them for anything. Ruby was the perfect example. She had said she was supporting him but lied about finding a way out of the deal. Demons were liars, and he couldn't trust any of them. But he had to. If he wasn't able to trust any of them, there was no way he would be able to save Dean.

"Here, at least eat something."

Unless he didn't need anyone else's help? Maybe he could figure out a way to save Dean without using his powers. Using his powers would put him closer to becoming a demon, and Dean would be ticked as all… he'd be pissed off when he found out. He needed to make sure that things would be okay when Dean got back. He needed to make sure that things would be normal, that they could fall back into their routine.

"Sam?"

He couldn't even imagine what it would be like if that wouldn't happen. He knew he needed Dean next to him, grinning and cracking jokes and refusing to talk about anything that mattered. It was just a matter of going to get him. So he couldn't do anything along the way that would get Dean mad, like become demonic or make another deal. Dean had specifically said he didn't want that sort of thing to happen. He wanted Dean back, and he wanted Dean to be happy.

"… I'll check in later."

Nothing else mattered.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The smell of pancakes drifted around Bobby's kitchen. He was sitting across from Ellen, drowning his breakfast in store-bought maple syrup. She was leaning back in a wooden chair, eyes closed and head tilted to expose most of her neck.

"You sure you don't want any?" Bobby asked, stuffing a forkful into his mouth.

Ellen shook her head. She sat up straight and looked at the closed door off to the left—the same door she had been looking at once every two or three minutes since she arrived.

"How long's he been like this?" she asked for the fourth time.

Bobby sighed and put down his fork. "I told you already, since we got back."

"But that was…" Ellen trailed off and did some quick mental calculations. "What, two months ago?"

Bobby shrugged. "About."

Ellen shook her head. "What happened? How'd you get him here?"

Bobby ate another forkful of pancakes. "Dean's deal went through."

"I know," Ellen said, softly.

Bobby swallowed and pushed some pieces of pancake around on his plate. "We couldn't stop it."

"I know." She spoke even softer.

"Sam, he…" Bobby stabbed his fork in a piece of pancake but didn't lift it to his mouth. "We carried Dean to my truck. We left."

Ellen nodded and let her elbows fall onto the table, hard. She clasped her hands in front of her face and looked over at the door again. "Where's Dean now?"

Bobby shook his head. "I don't know."

Ellen looked up sharply at Bobby. "What?"

Bobby shook his head. "That first night, right after, I had just put Sam in his room and I went to sleep myself. Next morning, I wake up, Sam's gone, my truck's gone." Bobby paused and took a fast gulp of his coffee. "Sam comes back, truck's empty. Didn't tell me anything about it. I asked, but nothing."

Ellen's mouth was drawn in a tight, thin line. The blood had drained out of her face and her eyes were wide. "What'd he do with the body?"

Bobby shrugged and didn't answer.

Ellen closed her eyes and sighed. "How is he?"

"Besides not eating or sleeping and only coming out of his room to tear through my library?" Bobby chewed pointedly. "Fine."

"Tear through your library?" Ellen asked. She shook her head and looked over at the door. "Why? What's he want?" Bobby's silence went on for much longer than it should have. It stretched on until Ellen, unable to wait any longer, asked, "What are you thinking?"

Bobby ate another piece of pancake. He swallowed it and took another swig of coffee. "Trouble."


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The books in Bobby's library were all yellowed with cracked pages and broken bindings. They had been put to years of good use, giving hunters the answers they needed to destroy a spirit or kill a creature. There were all sorts of books in this room—books on plagues and diseases, books on rituals and curses, books on spirits and mythology, books on demons and monsters. They all had information that someone had used at some point. They all had been helpful in the past.

Sam just needed to find the one that could help him now. He didn't know what information could be used to save Dean. He had started with the most obvious two months ago. Anything related to demons and making deals with demons. After scouring those for two weeks and coming up empty, he had moved on to the next topic—souls. After that, it had been any religious texts that spoke of an afterlife. Then, he had moved down to any deals made with any supernatural creatures.

As the weeks passed and nothing turned up, he got desperate. The book he was currently holding was a detailed account of one poltergeist that had haunted one town in northern Wisconsin for years. Sam lifted a hand and laid it over his eyes. This was getting him nowhere. He knew it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

He had thought out what was required in saving Dean. The first step would be to acquire the contract for Dean's soul. When the idea had popped into his head, the original plan had been to just get down there, grab Dean, and come back. But after reading through a few texts, Sam had to admit that wouldn't be possible. He should be able to go there and get back as long as he was alive—it would be difficult, but it wasn't impossible. Dean, however, wasn't… well, his soul was stuck down there, and according to some contract Lilith had, that's where it belonged.

But Sam had remembered the first time they had encountered the crossroads demon. Dean had made a deal with her that had annulled someone else's deal. That one guy, what was his name, he had sold his soul to save his wife, and Dean had made a new deal that got him his soul back. But that man had still been alive. His soul had still been in his own body.

How would he even put Dean's soul back in Dean's body? Assuming he obtained ownership over Dean's soul—and how businesslike this whole situation was, how heartless and consumerist—Sam should be able to do with it as he pleased. Maybe if he just willed it back into Dean's body, it would go?

But even if Sam got Dean's soul and willed it back into Dean's body, would it matter? The contract had already been filled. Dean's soul had been paid. Could he get a… well, a refund? If he did, would it mean that the original deal was reversed, was made like it had never happened? Would it mean that Sam would have to die in Dean's place?

There was only one way for Sam to get the answers he needed. He closed the poltergeist book and stood up, walking resolutely to his room.

He needed a picture of himself for this to work.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


"Sam."

Ellen's voice came through the walls of his room, accompanied by a knock. Sam ignored her, shifting through the materials at hand. He still needed to pick up a few things for the summoning to work. Damn demons and their ridiculous rules. The picture of him, Sam understood. A few cat bones? Some graveyard dirt? Those sorts of things made no sense at all.

The door opened, and Sam threw a sheet over himself, covering the assorted stuff on the bed as well. He looked up, eyes narrowing at the intruder. He didn't have much time left. He was already working as fast as he could. There was no time to be bothered, no matter who it was.

Ellen stood a few feet away from his bed, arms folded over her chest and feet spaced apart. Sam glared at her until she finally shifted her feet and looked down.

"I was hoping we could talk." Her voice was softer than it had been through the door. Sam wondered at the sudden change in her attitude, but it was irrelevant. She would leave as long as he didn't answer her.

"I know you don't want to talk," Ellen continued, still looking at the ground. "To me or to anybody. I get that." She paused and took a deep breath, then looked up and stared at Sam. He looked back at her, wondering what she wanted. "But Sam, it's been two months. Maybe you should think about talking about it."

"About what?" Sam asked almost against his will. She looked concerned, and she had been helpful in the past. Sam might need to call on her again, once things had settled down. It never hurt to have hunters as friends.

Ellen's face tensed. The lines around her eyes tightened, her lips thinned and pressed together, and her shoulders slumped a little. "About Dean."

Sam looked at her, still not understanding. "What about him?"

Ellen took a step closer, awkwardly. "I thought you might need someone to listen."

Sam raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I've got nothing to say." He scratched the back of his neck and then continued, "And anyway, I'm sort of busy, so if you don't mind…?"

Ellen swallowed and then sat down on the edge of Sam's bed, looking at the wall directly across from her. Sam moved further away from her, shifting the materials under the blanket as he did so. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. But I'm willing to listen to whatever you've got to say."

"Look, Ellen, that's nice of you, but I really—"

"Dean's dead, Sam." The words came out of Ellen quickly, as if that would make them any less painful to say or hear.

"No—"

"He's dead, and he's not coming back."

"No!" Sam shouted. He flung the covers back, jumping up to stand in front of Ellen. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Ellen's gaze locked onto Sam's. "What's all this?" She gestured to the items that were now in disarray across the bed.

Sam glared at her. "I don't have to listen to this."

"What is all of this, Sam?" Ellen asked again, voice hardening. She stood up, facing Sam without any weakness in her eyes.

"Get out." Sam's voice was hard, unforgiving.

"What are you planning to do?" Ellen's voice wavered a bit, belying the steel in her eyes.

"I said, get out." Sam's voice, sharp and cutting, was suddenly too loud for the room. They both took a step back, away from each other. Sam swallowed and looked towards the opposite wall, away from Ellen's face. "Please."

Ellen walked towards Sam and put her hand gently on his arm. "You have to accept the fact that he's gone." Her hand tightened. "You've got to let him go."

Sam's gaze didn't waver from the spot on the wall. "Please," he repeated, this time in a monotone.

Ellen let her hand drop. She turned around and walked out of the room. As soon as she was gone, Sam closed and locked the door.

Now no one else would bother him.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The tin box in his hands was rusty. It had creaked when he opened and closed it, giving Sam an unintentional warning. The creaking reminded Sam what he was doing. It reminded him that he was specifically going against what Dean wanted, specifically falling into the trap the demons had laid out for them. It reminded him that once he did this, there was no going back. This decision was final. Unalterable. There would be no more deals after this one. They would have nothing else to trade.

The creaking also reminded Sam of why he was doing this. It was for Dean. So, it didn't matter what the consequences were. It didn't matter that Dean would be furious, that Dean would try to find a way out of this deal, that in ten years—maybe even less, maybe only a year, maybe nothing at all—Sam and Dean's positions would be switched. He didn't care about any of that. What mattered—the only thing that mattered—was saving Dean.

It might not even work. He had shot her in the head with the Colt, after all. The demon was most likely dead, but…

It was the only way.

Sam looked around him, judging the distance, and then knelt. He quickly dug up a few inches of dirt, stuck the box in the ground, and piled the dirt back on top of it. Standing up, he stomped on the ground a few times to make sure the dirt was packed in tightly.

Then he squared his shoulders and waited.

"My, my. I didn't expect to see you here."

Sam whirled around towards the voice, immediately stopping when he saw a woman. He vaguely noticed some details about her—the red on her lips matched the tight dress she wore, the short blonde curly hair, her arms crossed over her chest. But the only important thing was that she was there. She was the only one, and she hadn't been anywhere a moment ago.

"Who are you?" His voice came out rough, hard, and angry. He might need to deal with this demon, but he still wanted to know the terms and who would hold his contract. "I thought I killed you."

The demon rolled her eyes. "Well, you didn't kill me, now did you? Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you." She uncrossed her arms and put one hand on her hip while she gestured with the other. "You didn't think they'd keep this position vacant, did you? Making deals at crossroads is a very lucrative business for us. We have to keep it going." She paused. "Speaking of going, I'll be doing that now."

As she turned around, Sam had a moment to wonder. Why was she leaving? Could he stop her? What was going on? Didn't these demons normally try to make deals?

"Wait," he said. She stopped and turned to look back at him. "I want to make a deal."

"I gathered that," she said, so dryly Sam was offended. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" Sam was silent, waiting for her to continue. "You killed the last one of us you called here. I'm not going to hang around waiting to be slaughtered." She turned around and began walking away once more.

"Wait," Sam said, almost shouting. His voice sounded desperate, even to him. "I need to get the contract for Dean's soul. You have to deal with me!"

The demon stopped and turned around, staring at him from several feet away. "Afraid not, Sam."

"Why?" Sam asked, knowing how pathetic he sounded but simply not caring. "I'm willing to do it! I'm willing to do anything!"

She shook her head and shrugged. "You've got nothing to deal with."

"What?" Sam asked.

"You can't make a deal," she returned, crossing her arms over her chest once more.

"What are you saying?" Sam asked, confused. "Of course I can make a deal."

"I'm saying your soul is already ours." The demon spread her hands wide, indicating the uselessness of the situation. "You've got nothing we want."

Sam's breath stopped. He stared at her, trying to figure out what she meant. "No," he said, shaking his head. "My soul is still mine. I haven't made any deals. Ever."

The demon smirked. "Well, Sam, here's the thing. Those powers you've got? The ones you're so loathe to use? They come at a price." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Guess what it is."

Sam swallowed. "But I never agreed to—"

"Life's not always fair, Sam. Them's the breaks." She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, actually studying him for the first time since she arrived. "Actually, you can do something for me."

"What?" Sam asked, quickly. Perhaps too quickly, judging by the way her teeth suddenly gleamed in the moonlight.

"I want you to kill my boss," she said.

"Lilith?" Sam asked, hesitantly. "You want me to kill Lilith?"

"You know I can't tell you who my boss is." The demon sighed. "But you already know that my boss holds the contracts, and you know which demon that is. So it shouldn't be too hard to put it together, even for you."

"Why?" Sam asked, shaking his head a little. "Why would you want that?"

"Why?" she repeated, and then her smile turned feral. "I want you to take her place."

"No," Sam said, swallowing thickly. "I can't."

"You're going to kill her anyway," she said. The demon looked directly at Sam, peering at him closely. "Someone else will rise up to take her place once she's gone. They'll always be another Lilith. I want the next one to be you."

Sam was already shaking his head harder. "No," he said, firmly. "No."

She shrugged. "All right." For the third time, she turned and began to walk away.

"I can't!" Sam called after her. "I just can't do that!"

She left suddenly, a plume of dark black smoke writhing up into the night sky. Sam looked at the body lying on the ground for several minutes before he dug up the box underneath his feet.

"I can't," Sam said aloud. But the only other person around was the unconscious woman, so no one heard him.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The entire problem was that he could, and he knew it. The demon had been right. He was planning to kill Lilith—right after he got Dean back. They would hunt her down together, so that they both could get the satisfaction of watching her suffer. Of course, he didn't know exactly how they were going to go about killing her, especially since she had the Colt thanks to Bela's manipulations. But he was sure they would find a way.

All of that could wait until after he saved Dean. They could plan together and figure this out just like they always did. Sam just had to concentrate on saving Dean… in some way that would not make Dean furious with him when they got back.

But that was looking to be close to impossible. The more Sam pondered it, the more he realized he was going to have to do something that Dean wouldn't approve of.

And he didn't care.

At this point, wanting Dean to be okay with his methods was just a desire that was holding him back. Sam knew anything that could bring Dean back would be something Dean would want him to avoid. Dean had wanted him to just go on, living his life and hunting and maybe even being normal without Dean in the picture.

Well, Dean was gone now. He didn't get a say.

The first few days after Dean had gone had been… horrible. Really bad. Sam didn't remember the majority of it. He remembered lifting Dean into Bobby's trunk and then just sitting there, staring at Dean, wondering how things had come to this. Dean never should have made the deal, Sam remembered thinking. Dean should have left him dead and gone on living. Now their positions were reversed and all Sam could think of was bringing him back.

How could Dean have thought Sam would just go on without him? What had Dean been thinking? That Sam would just let Dean stay in… stay there while Sam bought a house, married some chick, had a few kids? Didn't Dean know what he meant to Sam?

Sam shook his head and focused on the current problem. He slammed the book he had been looking through shut. This was the third time he had looked through this book. He was getting nowhere. Dean was suffering, and all Sam could do was look through musty old texts and hope to find something useful.

He shook his head, feeling a red hot anger boiling up inside of him. He was sick of this. It had been over two months. The only things he had to show for his time were a collection of paper cuts and a migraine that kept on getting worse. Dean was in trouble, he was probably being tortured or—Sam's mind veered away from the thought. But why? Why avoid it? Dean was being tortured, had been for the past eight weeks and three days, and Sam was just sitting here doing fucking nothing!

The book he had been reading suddenly flew up and away from him, slamming into the far wall and falling to the ground. Sam glared over at it, expression hardening. He hadn't meant to do it, but it had felt good anyway. Dean didn't want him using his powers; Dean wanted him to go back to college and become a lawyer.

Sam stared hard at the book lying across the room. What he had thought before was still true. Dean wasn't here now.

Sam didn't have to do what Dean wanted anymore. He didn't have to shy away from using his powers. He didn't have to ignore Dean's plight and move on with his own life. He could do what needed to be done, to get him back.

Using his powers didn't make him a demon. Nothing could make him a demon.

Sam concentrated on the book on the floor until it lifted up into the air, hovering several inches above ground.

He smiled.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


When they had been young, so young that Sam hadn't even held a gun yet, there had been a tree house. Sam didn't remember where it was or how they had gotten there, just remembered Dean grabbing his hand and then they were there, in that strange time distortion that all very old memories possessed. The tree house had been huge to him—three stories with plumbing and central air, a chimney sticking out of the top and branches sticking out of that. His mind remembered the hugeness even though he knew it must have been a lie.

They were on the roof of it, what Sam now thought must have been the single wooden floor that most tree houses were made of, but what had then seemed to almost touch the clouds with how tall it was. Sam didn't remember climbing up it, although he must have. He must have grabbed onto whatever rickety ladder had been placed against the tree and leaned heavily on it, too afraid to look down or up as he climbed. Or else there had been no ladder, there had only been the tree itself and whatever handholds he could find in it. He could see himself, all bones and messed up hair, reaching for the branches to grab on to but never quite managing to do more than brush his fingertips against them. He could see Dean, scrambling up before him and reaching down, holding out his hand for Sam to clasp, until their fingers closed around each other's wrists and Sam was lifted off the ground, finally able to reach the branch with the help of the few extra inches that Dean had offered him. Sam didn't remember if it had happened, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like reality, until he was so sure Dean had lifted him up that he would have bet his life on it.

Then they were on the roof, after Dean had helped him get there, after Dean had grabbed his hand twice—once to lead the way and once to lift him higher. They were standing on the edge of the roof, somehow time had passed and there they were, Dean next to Sam and both of them with the tips of their sneakers just over the ledge. Dean had grinned at him, called him a chicken, said there wasn't anything to be afraid of, which wasn't right because he hadn't been standing next to Dean at all. He had been standing in the middle of the platform, legs frozen stiff in place and watching as Dean inched closer and closer to the edge. Dean had kept on grinning until he had fallen, grinned as he fell, grinned as his face disappeared over the side until Sam couldn't see him at all. Sam had rushed forward, crying out, arms reaching to close on solid air. His hands had clenched around Dean's arms, who hadn't fallen yet, who was about to fall, who had already fallen and was simply standing there, on the edge, waiting for Sam to pull him back.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Ava had been right. Using his powers was so easy.

After eight days, Sam was confident in his abilities. He was able to move things around at will, to lift and throw them wherever he wanted. He even had a dream that he knew was a premonition. It was of some woman crying for help. Sam had woken up smiling, knowing he was finally getting control over his abilities.

There was no hesitation within him anymore. There was no doubt, no wondering about the consequences of his actions. With these powers, he could save Dean. With these powers, that he had unknowingly and unwillingly exchanged his soul for, he could make his life just how it used to be. Everything could go back to how it had been. Just him and Dean, on the road, hunting evil things—together. Sam got out of bed, the sheet folding itself behind him.

Everything felt so right.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


"I didn't expect to see you again." The crossroads demon smiled at him. It was in another young woman's body, and this time Sam didn't pay any attention at all to her form. "And so soon, too," she added.

"If I kill Lilith, what happens to the contracts that she owns?" It was the one question that had been bothering him, the one question he needed the answer to in order to continue.

The demon shrugged. "They become yours."

"Which means?" Sam hated talking with demons. They never said what they really meant. They were always circling around subjects, never getting to the point.

She looked at him as if he was slow. "Which means you can do what you want to with them."

Sam swallowed. "And I could give them back to their original owners?"

The demon paused, taking a few steps away from Sam before turning around and crossing her arms over her chest. "Look, Sam, that's not how things work."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, staring at her. "If the contracts belong to me, I should be able to give them back to their owners."

"You're not thinking this through." The demon shook her head. "These people sold their souls. It's not something they can just get back. At least, not without paying for it."

"So I make new deals with them, give them back their souls if they do something else, something I choose," Sam said, thinking as he spoke.

"No, Sam," she said. "The way it works is that someone calls me," and here she pointed at herself with an overabundance of flair, "or another demon who is able to make a deal. That person creates the deal with that demon, the contracts go to the boss."

"So, if I kill Lilith—"

"You would take her place," the demon finished. "As my boss."

"Then, couldn't I order you to just stop making deals? And I could get you to try to make new deals for the contracts I would have, right?" Sam shrugged. "Seems easy enough to me."

"Sam." The demon took a step forward, putting one hand on her hip and gesturing with her other. "You could order me to stop making deals. But I would still have to come if someone called me. And trust me, people call me." She sighed. "Could you potentially make new deals for the other contracts? Yes. But how would you get those people to contact me? There's a clause in the contracts that states that I won't attempt to change the terms of the contract in any way. Trying to get them to make a new deal to break the original contract goes against the terms everyone agreed to. It also goes against my job, and if I don't do my job properly, there are other demons who would try to kill me to take my place."

Sam shook his head. "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she said, pausing dramatically before continuing, "that this system has been in place for longer than you can imagine. You can't change it, and if you try to, someone is going to come after you."

"So, it's pointless for me to kill Lilith, then," Sam said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I'll just be in her position and unable to help anyone."

"Well—"

"Hey," Sam said, opening his eyes and interrupting the demon. She looked ticked at having been cut off, but she motioned for him to continue. "Does anyone who kills Lilith take her place?"

The demon laughed. "Are you stupid?" Sam assumed this was a rhetorical question. "How many demons have you and Dean killed, not to mention all the other hunters out there?" Sam assumed this was also a rhetorical question. "Do you think all of those demons were just pawns? That none of them had any positions of power or authority? Don't you think, if anyone who killed a demon had to take over their place, that you and all of your little friends would be quite a bit busier?"

"Wow," Sam said. "I wasn't expected to answer any of those."

The demon rolled her eyes. "My point is, you don't have to take on the job of the demon you kill. There's a hierarchy in place, a system so that no spot will ever be left open."

Sam paused. "But then if I kill Lilith, won't the next demon in line step up to take her place?" The demon looked at Sam, hard, staring at him until he felt distinctly uncomfortable. "What?" he finally asked, glaring back at her.

"You really are an idiot," she said. "You're the next in line. You're the one who's going to take her place, once she's gone."

Sam blinked. "What?" He shook his head. "That's impossible. I'm not a demon."

The demon shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you think you are. What matters is that you were supposed to step up to lead, you didn't, and Lilith did. Technically speaking, Lilith is under you." At Sam's blank look, she said, "She's your subordinate."

"Then why is she trying to kill me?" Sam asked, still trying to wrap his head around this idea.

"Because," the demon said, drawing the word out much longer than it should have been. "She wants to be first in line to the throne, as it were. You're standing in her way."

Sam shook his head, eyebrows furrowing and mouth curling in contempt. "That's it? That's what she wants? She can have it."

"No," the demon said, speaking slowly and clearly. "She can't. You're the first one in line for the position, whether you want to be or not. As long as you're alive, she'll always be second. That's why she wants you dead so badly," the demon explained, voice getting faster and higher. "That's why she's been after you, because she wants your position and she can't get it."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Sam asked. "There's nothing in this for you."

She stopped, her whole body going rigid. "There is something in this for me," she said. "I want my boss out of the picture."

"Why?" Sam asked. "If it's not her, it's just going to be someone else. You said it yourself."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't have to explain myself to you," she said, suddenly furious. "Either you want to make the deal or you don't. You don't need anything else from me other than that."

"Fine. You don't want to explain, fine." Sam paused and swallowed heavily. This needed to work. "But I want to alter the deal."

The demon immediately calmed down, regaining her cool disposition. "I already told you, Sam. I can't take your soul. You don't have one to give."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Sam said quickly. "I'll kill Lilith, but the only contract I want is Dean's."

"Did you listen at all the first time I went through this?" She rolled her eyes. "Whoever kills Lilith gets all the contracts. That's—"

"Hear me out," Sam interrupted. "I'll just hold on to Dean's contract. That way, I'll just have control over his soul."

"Didn't I say this already? You can't get Dean's soul. It's too late." The demon crossed her arms across her chest. "That deal is over."

"It's not too late," Sam said. "I'll give you all of the other contracts, and in return you give me access to hell."

The demon paused. "What are you asking?"

Sam breathed deeply. "It's simple. I kill Lilith and hold on to Dean's contract. You grant me safe passage in and out of hell in exchange for the rest of the contracts, I go in and grab Dean's soul. I take it out with me, Dean comes back to life, right?"

"If you remove Dean's soul from hell, it'll become trapped in the contract. After you get back, you'd need to first annul and then destroy the contract." The demon paused. "It could be done, though. I could annul his contract. After you hand over the other contracts to me, of course."

"So we have a deal?" Sam asked, standing very still. He had known the idea of the contracts belonging to her would be a good bargaining chip. All demons wanted power. They all wanted to rise up in the ranks. He had known this would work.

The demon nodded once, tightly. "All right. We've got a deal." She walked quickly towards Sam, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him. Her lips tasted like dirt and bones, like something both alive and dead. Sam stood very still, waited until she let him go, and then took two steps back and spit on the ground near her feet.

"Nice," the demon said. "Subtle, too."

"We're done here," Sam said.

"I'll be expecting your call."


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Killing Lilith was not as hard as Sam had thought it would be. He had assumed that she would be hiding, gathering troops together to assault him when she was ready. He had figured she would be careful now that she knew her powers didn't work on him.

What he hadn't figured in was that desire for power she had. That need to destroy all obstacles in her way—Sam hadn't factored that in. It was only a few days after his deal, a few days of traveling and researching and planning, that she appeared. She was still in the body of a young girl, a disguise that would do her no good here. The Colt was in her hand, and a simple thought from Sam had it spiraling through the air towards his outstretched arm.

After she appeared, it was only a few seconds before she was dead. Her body fell to the ground with a thump, limbs twisting at wrong angles and eyes wide with an emotion Sam couldn't name. The Colt in Sam's hand was smoking, just like in the movies. Lilith was dead, and staring at the young girl's body sprawled on the ground in front of him brought a smile to Sam's face.

The smile vanished suddenly as dark black cords shot out of the girl's body. They were too numerous to count, and as one they all twisted midair and headed straight for Sam. There was no time to react, no time to do anything but brace for the impact. When they hit, though, they simply went straight through Sam, making no noise at all. He turned around, expecting to see them shooting out into the distance behind him. But it was clear—nothing was around. The black cords had vanished into his own body.

Then Sam realized—they must have been the contracts. He had killed Lilith, and now he was in possession of who knew how many souls. Sam closed his eyes and tried to locate the contracts, specifically Dean's. He felt them inside of him like a dead weight. Each one felt slightly different, and if he concentrated on one of the feelings, he knew the terms of that contract. There was a woman who had wanted to become a rock star, a man who had asked to travel the entire world for free, a girl who had wanted the guy she liked to fall in love with her, a young boy who had wanted his parents to stay together—thousands of them, all different people from different walks of life, all wanting things that were beyond their capability to achieve alone. He couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it.

It was easy to separate Dean's from the rest. The completed contracts had a different feel to them, and anyway he already knew how Dean felt. He mentally separated Dean's contract from the rest, tucked the Colt into his bag, and headed for the Impala. It was time to finish this deal.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The entrance to hell was a simple black portal. Nothing fancy—no wind was blowing, no unexplainable lights or sounds. Just a tear in the sky right next to them. The crossroads demon gestured grandly at it.

"There you go," she said. "I'll keep this passageway open until you return. Just make it quick. The longer it's open, the harder it is for me to remain undetected." Sam nodded and walked through, careful to check that the Colt was still secured in the waistband of his jeans.

As soon as he was through, the world changed. Although he had researched before he left, there had been too many accounts of hell to go through. All of them described it differently, and in every religion there were various rules about how the whole place was run and what would happen when you got there. The most famous were the pits of fire, separation from God, little red monsters poking sinners with pitchforks—that sort of thing. But there were other accounts, as well. Some described a desolate ice world or a never-ending pit or watching your loved ones being tortured in front of you. Some had demons torturing the sinners, others claimed it was simply being in hell itself that was the torture. The only common thread Sam had been able to find among every description of hell was they were all horrible. Going through descriptions of hell was like reading a litany of humanity's worst fears and nightmares.

Even with that for preparation, Sam was surprised by what he saw. It was a huge black space, extending outwards in every direction. There was no difference between the sky and the ground, except that somehow when Sam stepped forward his feet touched something solid and he was able to move ahead. There was no chance of seeing anything, but Sam also had the feeling that there was nothing to see. Everything was simply black, as though the world had been plucked from existence and only the hole from where it used to be remained. He glanced behind him and saw a small tear in the blackness that was obviously where he had entered from. Sam immediately worried about finding it again, but then realized that he was able to… feel the entrance, just like how he could feel the contracts. Slightly more confident now that he knew he could definitely make it back safely, Sam started moving forward at a steady pace.

Just as he began wondering how he would ever find Dean, Sam took a step forward and a doorframe appeared. It was literally just the frame of the door, wide enough that Sam could walk through if he wanted to and also completely transparent. He looked in for a moment, only long enough to see a woman struggling in an ocean, appearing to drown as she writhed and gasped for air. The water moved in front of the door frame but did not fall through. Rather, it seemed that the woman and the water were both trapped within this doorframe.

Sam took another step forward and found himself staring at a different doorframe. This one was just the same as the last one, a black rectangular twisted wire frame, except in this one there was an elderly man surrounded by beautiful women. Sam squinted a bit and saw that the man had his eyes closed. One of the women reached out and the man opened his eyes, only to immediately scream as all of the women in his line of vision were horribly mutilated. Some were decapitated, others were ripped apart, one looked as if she was being eaten alive. The man closed his eyes again for only a second before another woman reached out, initiating the cycle all over again.

Sam tore his gaze away and continued forward. With every step, he witnessed a new type of hell. Some of them were confusing, such as the woman who was bound to a chair and stared at a blank white wall. The majority of them, however, were horrifying. Sam did his best to check inside only long enough to ascertain that Dean was not in the room before moving along.

Then Sam came across a doorframe with a woman being tortured. He was about to continue on when he realized that one of the contracts inside of him was thrumming—giving off a strong vibration throughout his mind. Sam nearly hit himself upside the head when he realized what that meant. The contracts were like beacons towards the people who were tied to them. If Sam focused on Dean's contract, he would be led straight to him, instead of this random searching.

He quickly focused on Dean's contract and felt a tug. Sam turned slightly to follow the pull he was feeling, walking quickly past all of the doorframes that appeared around him. He felt the tug get stronger and stronger until, suddenly, a doorframe appeared in front of him and the contract thrummed so strongly Sam felt dizzy. He looked through the doorframe, seeing only a maze of crossing chains and what appeared to be some sort of a lightning storm, complete with fog and eerie atmosphere.

Dean had to be in that doorframe. Somewhere. Sam walked in without a second thought, feet stepping securely on what looked like air. As Sam walked forward, he moved his hand out to lift up the nearest chain, only to have the chain dissolve on contact with his fingertips. He paused briefly, then waved his hand through another chain, which also disappeared. Sam continued walking, thankful and not too concerned about his sudden ability to get rid of the chains that were everywhere. He walked on the air, which was good since there was no ground as far as he could see. In fact, as soon as he had stepped through, the entire world around him had changed yet again, this time mirroring what had been in the doorframe. Sam looked backwards once to make sure that the doorframe was still visible. Once he saw that it was, he moved swiftly forward, intent on following the thrum of the contract to Dean.

Walking through Dean's hell was nerve-wracking. Sam didn't know what the chains meant or why the lightning storm was so menacing, but he certainly knew that Dean would be terrified. Each hell was specially made for the individual residing in it, and based on how awful Sam felt just by walking through it, he could only imagine that Dean would be a wreck.

Then he saw a shape, the only shape he had seen so far, and he knew it was Dean. Sam began walking faster, then flat out running, sprinting towards Dean with every bit of energy he had. His arms pumped at his sides, his legs stretched as far as they could go, his feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm that was faster than he had ever heard it. The shape began solidifying, becoming clearer and closer, until finally Sam knew it was Dean. The contract thrumming within him got so heavy he had to breathe harder, and just looking at Dean after all this time made breathing an impossible feat. He was still far away—too far. He was screaming, calling out for Sam, and Sam wanted to catch his breath to scream back, but he couldn't. He just kept on running, getting closer and moving faster, wondering if Dean had ever stopped screaming his name, if Dean had been calling for him from the very beginning.

Then Sam realized Dean was facing the other way. He couldn't see that Sam was coming, and Sam couldn't move any faster than he already was, but he tried anyway. His feet ached, his whole body rejected moving for any longer, but Sam pressed on, knowing Dean was right there, waiting for him. Then, suddenly, he was just behind Dean, not twenty feet away, able to see individual hairs on his head and the backs of his ears. He kept moving forward, panting now, until he launched himself at Dean, throwing his arms around Dean's neck and burrowing his face in Dean's hair. Dean screamed, voice hoarse and clearly terrified, but Sam held on tighter, rubbing his nose into the back of Dean's neck and murmuring comforting nonsense under his breath.

Dean's scream died off and he tried to turn his head, but Sam was already letting go and moving around to face Dean properly. Dean was suspended in air a few inches above the ground, hanging by chains, and so they were eye level when they finally saw each other. Dean's face looked ragged, bruised, bloody. There were tear streaks down his face, as well as dried dirt and lines around his eyes. His lips were chapped and swollen, his limbs were being stretched too far apart from his body, and his clothes were in shreds. But when he saw Sam standing in front of him, Dean's face broke. His lower lip trembled and he bit it, sucking in breaths quickly. His eyes filled with unshed tears, and when he blinked he didn't even notice that they fell. He only stared at Sam, disbelief etched across his face.

"Sa—" Dean started, cutting himself off. He swallowed thickly, pressed his lips together, and ignored the tears that fell down his chin. "Sam?"

Sam swiped a hand across his eyes to get rid of the tears that he only just now noticed. He nodded and then reached up, waving his right hand through the chain suspending Dean's left arm in midair. The chain disappeared and Dean's arm dropped, limp and bruised. Sam lifted Dean's arm and put it around his neck.

"Hold on," he said, voice thick. Dean's fingers curled around the back of Sam's neck, eventually fisting in the collar of his shirt.

Sam wrapped his left arm underneath Dean's right one and used his hand to touch the chain, which disintegrated on contact. Dean's weight dropped onto him, his body tumbling forward at the sudden freedom. Sam stumbled back a step but was able to stay standing, even with Dean's body pressed against his.

"Dean," he said, quietly. "I need to get the other chains."

Dean nodded and tried to move backwards, using his hands to push off of Sam, but he only was able to separate himself a few inches before he fell back onto Sam. "I—" Dean's voice was rough, hoarse from screaming and crying. He cleared his throat, winced, and tried again. "Sorry," he said, voice so scratchy it hurt to listen to. "I can't…"

"No, no, don't worry about it," Sam said, gripping onto Dean even tighter. "I'm… I'm just going to lie you down for a minute, okay?" He gently bent down and tried to lay Dean down on the ground, but the minute his hand touched the ground on which Sam was standing, it went right through it. Sam immediately pulled Dean back up and against him. "Shit," he muttered. "Shit."

"Sam," Dean said, quietly. "Sam, I…"

Sam moved Dean slightly so that he had a hand free. "Hold onto me, okay? Don't let go." Sam felt Dean's hands tighten around his neck, hands gripping at his hair and clothes. "No matter what."

The chains had followed Dean's body, still connected to him, and although some of them had disappeared on contact with Sam's body, there were still others that Sam had yet to touch. So Sam moved his hand in the air around Dean, cutting through and dissolving the chains until there were none left. As soon as the chains were all gone, Sam grabbed Dean under his thighs and hoisted Dean's legs up around his waist. "Wrap your feet around each other," Sam instructed. "Get as good a grip as you can."

"I knew you would come," Dean murmured. His mouth was pressed against Sam's ear, and his voice made Sam shiver. Sam could still feel Dean's arms around his neck, his legs around his body, the weight of Dean against him. The blood that stained Dean's body was smeared onto his clothes and face, and Dean's limbs were still shaking from being chained, but Sam didn't care. "I knew…"

"Shh…" Sam whispered, soothingly. "Of course I came. Of course."

Dean nodded against Sam's neck. Sam could feel his mouth moving, knew he was trying to say something, but nothing came out. Sam just walked forward, back the way he had come, and headed towards the doorframe. He knew where it was, and it seemed so much shorter getting there this time. Walking through Dean's hell was a lot less troubling when Sam was carrying him out of it.

Dean was quiet the entire time. He occasionally grunted or breathed a bit heavier, but he said nothing. Sam concentrated on getting the both of them out of there as fast as possible. Once they were through the doorframe, he kept on walking towards the exit, towards that odd feeling that let him know he was heading in the right direction. He didn't stop to see if Dean could touch this ground, he didn't stop to check Dean's injuries. He knew this was Dean's soul, and not his actual body, but he couldn't help but wonder what effects, if any, this would have on Dean's real body. Sam hoped no damages would appear on him, but there was no way of knowing for sure. At least, not until he had finally brought Dean back.

Sam began to walk faster, careful not to jostle Dean too much, but intent on making it out of hell quickly. He ignored the doorframes that appeared with his every step, didn't even bother looking in them this time, not even when a contract in his body reacted and he knew the soul he was passing was one he could potentially save. None of those people mattered, and there wasn't anything he could do for them. They had all made their choice. He had Dean to worry about, and that was more than enough.

The exit was right in front of him in a matter of minutes. However, every step that Sam took towards it, Dean seemed to feel lighter in his arms. Sam concentrated on making it to the exit, to that small tear in the expanse of darkness that surrounded them, but the worry he had for Dean's safety was a gnawing fear in his mind. Dean's form was becoming transparent. Not completely, but enough that Sam could see his own shirt through Dean's torso. He swallowed nervously and walked faster. Dean was a soul here—only a soul. He had no physical form. His soul was going to return to the contract, and from there Sam would have to return it to his body. He knew that, but still, watching Dean like this was like watching him die all over again.

Sam reached the exit just as Dean's body was at its lightest and most transparent. Dean seemed like a ghost now—and not the solid kind that they faced regularly, but rather the kind that appeared in the movies, all white and see-through and completely powerless. Sam tightened his hold around Dean just as he passed through the exit, and as he did so Dean evaporated into thin air, becoming a thin blue-gray wisp. A small black cord shot out of Sam's chest, towards the wisp, and they met up in mid-air, melding together with a small flash of white light. When the light faded, a piece of yellowed parchment hung suspended in front of Sam, and when he searched for Dean's contract inside of himself he came up empty.

Sam reached out and grabbed onto the contract, holding it tightly between his fingers. He looked it over briefly and knew it was Dean's, just like he had known it was Dean's when it was inside of him.

"You see?" The crossroads demon breathed heavily, pushing her hair away from her face. The portal to hell had closed, leaving not even a slight trace of its existence. "Like I said. His soul's in the contract now."

Sam nodded tightly. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Now, give me the other contracts. Renounce your claim on them, and they'll be mine." The demon sighed. "You could have been a little faster, you know."

"You said you'd annul his contract," Sam said. "That was part of the deal."

"And I will," she said. "After you hand over the others."

Sam narrowed his eyes, but asked, "How do I give them to you?"

The demon shrugged. "Just renounce them. Say aloud that you renounce all of your rights to the contracts and that you are giving them to me."

"That's enough?"

"Of course," the demon said. "It's your word. What more can a crossroads demon ask for?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I renounce all of my rights to the contracts of the human souls who made deals with any demon. I'm giving up the contracts to this crossroads demon here. Standing in front of me. Now."

As soon as Sam finished, a tremor shook through his body. The black cords that had shot into him came out suddenly, as one, and flew through the crossroads demon, disappearing into her as they touched her. Once they were completely gone, she closed her eyes and stood still for a moment.

"All right," she said, nodding. "It's done."

"Annul Dean's contract now," Sam said, gesturing to the contract a bit frantically.

The demon rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know. Here, give it to me."

Sam handed the contract over, glaring at the demon the whole time. She took it from him and reached a hand into her pocket, taking out a pen. Then, she wrote on the bottom of the contract for a minute before elaborately signing her name across the bottom of it.

"Here, you need to sign in Dean's place." The demon handed the contract over to Sam. Sam quickly read what she had wrote, which amounted to stating the contract was null and void and that the terms of it were no longer applicable—also stating that the contract was currently like it had never existed. Sam signed on the empty line near the bottom. Then the demon took the contract back and kissed it. A black cord came out of the contract and dissolved as it did so, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces that evaporated into nothing. "There," she said. "It's done. Now all you need to do is destroy the contract."

Sam took the contract back from her. "And fire will do that, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it should. But make sure you burn the contract next to his body, otherwise his soul might not find its way back."

"All right," Sam said. "There's just one more thing I've been meaning to do."

"What?" the demon asked. "We're done here. The deal's finished."

"Not quite," Sam said. He took out the Colt and pointed it straight at the demon.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping backward.

"I'm a hunter," Sam said, shortly. "And I can't let you go around making deals with people, sending them to hell."

"I already told you, there's always going to be a replacement for this position." She spoke quickly, eyes darting around, obviously trying to find some safe escape route. Sam knew that she knew if she tried to leave the girl's body, he'd shoot. "Even if you kill me, they'll be someone else."

"Like I said," Sam said, slowly. "I can't let it happen. I'll keep on killing you evil sons of bitches wherever I find you."

"We had a deal," she hissed, sucking in a short breath. Her eyes flashed betrayal and resignation.

"I don't care," Sam said, stepping forward and pointing the gun directly over where her heart would be, if she had one. "Life's not always fair." He cocked the Colt and steadied his finger over the trigger.

"You lied," she wheezed. "You lied."

"Them's the breaks," he said, and pulled the trigger.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


To Part 2