Disclaimer // Supernatural belongs to Kripke and probably a lot of other people but I'm not one of them. The prologue got lines taken directly from the episode "All hell breaks lose part 2". You'll recognize them.

Author Notes // The first time in forever that I'm posting a chaptered fic so I'm really hoping to get some feedback to stay motivated. This is an AU that starts of in the episode AHBL part 2 and explores the possibilities of what could have gone differently.

I do not have a beta for this but I hope it won't be too bad. If anyone wants to help me beta then send a word and I'll get back to you!



Everything you do is triggered by an emotion of either desire or fear.

--Brian Tracy

Desperation drew his actions and there was no time to stop and think about what he was doing; this was the only way. Wiping an unwanted tear from his cheek he filled in the hole he had dug and stood back up. He looked right, left, behind him, his fists clenched so hard that his nails dug in to the skin.

"Oh, come on already," he whispered, begged. The night was still silent, black as the grave (black like Sammy's grave), and he did not have time for this. "Show your face, you bitch!" he snarled, wishing she was there if only so that he had something to punch.

"Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."

Spinning around his eyes fell on the women behind him. She was shorter then him, her skin creamy white, her dark hair falling in soft curls and her black dress not leaving much out for the imagination. Under different circumstances the sight of her would have him automatically turning on his charms but now, as her demon eyes flashed red, he could only glare.

"Dean," she purred. "It's so, so good to see you." She met his eyes, a gleeful smile on her lips, and slowly started to walk towards him. "I mean it. Look at you," she said, studying him from top to toe as she started circling him. "Gone and got your family killed. All alone in the world. It's too sweet." She leant in closer, so close that her breath should have been tickling his skin, and whispered in his ear, "Excuse me, you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."

"I should send you straight back to hell," Dean growled, for a moment almost forgetting why he had called her there, and the sound of her giggle made his skin crawl.

"Oh, you should!" she agreed, humor evident in her voice. "But you won't. And I know why."

He turned around to face her, glare in his eyes and his hand itching for the gun in his waistband. "Oh, yeah?"

She smiled again. "Yeah. Following in Daddy's footsteps. You wanna make a deal. Little Sammy, back from the dead." Her head tilted to the side as if an idea had just come to her. "And, let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"

He took a half step towards her. "There are hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it," he said. "And it's all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back." His voice almost broke at his brothers name (his dead brother's name) but he pushed through and did not let his thoughts linger on what would happen if this did not work. "You give me ten years. Ten years and then you come for me."

"You must be joking," she said with a half-laugh and Dean felt his heart skip a beat.

"It's the same deal you give everybody else," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. I can't lose Sammy.

"You're not everybody else," she said matter-of-factly. "Why would I wanna give you anything? Keep your gutter soul, it's too tarnished anyway."

"Nine years." He was desperate now, could feel the deal slipping through his fingers, and he did not want to give her anything but he would give the world for Sam.



"You keep going, I'll keep saying no," she purred, and Dean could see how much she was enjoying this.

"Ok, five years," he said, knowing deep down that he had already lost but it was not the Winchester way to give up without a fight. "Five years, then my bill comes due. That's my last offer. Five years or no deal."

She smiled and pressed up against him, her lips a breath from his, and he dared to hope that he could still pull this of, dared to think of the world with Sam in it again. "Then no deal," she whispered in his ear.

The world stopped. Dean felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut, all his breath leaving him, and he was too shocked, too weak, to try and draw in a new one. (As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.) He failed. He fucking failed.

The demon had backed away again and was watching him with a small smile on her lips. Turning towards the looming forest on her left she tilted her head and stared out in to the darkness as if listening to something and, slowly, the smile turned in to a leer as she turned back to face Dean.

"How much is seeing Sammy alive worth to you?"

Dean snatched his head back up and stared at her, the response falling easily from his lips. "Everything."

"Good answer," she said. Looking him up and down again, measuring him, she let out a sigh. "I can't bring Sammy back."

"Then why . . ."

"I can't bring Sammy back, but there might be another way."

Dean drew in a deep breath and almost staggered as he felt the world start moving around him again. Suddenly everything was moving too fast, his head was spinning with questions and he did not know where to start. "How?" he finally asked; so many questions squeezed in to one.

"No fun spoiling the surprise. But . . ." she smirked at him, moving her hand in a wage motion, "I have my ways."

He knew he should be more suspicious, knew this was a bad idea, but he could not seem to care. Sam, his Sammy, was lying on that bed, dead, and what did anything else matter? He could not deal with a world without Sam, he knew that, had always known that, because Sam was his responsibility, his to protect. Without Sam there was no Dean.

"And what do you want in return?" he asked, trying to sound like it mattered but knowing that whatever price he would by ready to pay it for one more moment with Sam. (I'm gonna be the one to bury you.)

"Exactly what you are offering," she said. "Everything."

There was a moment of silence as the words echoed in his head. Everything. Everything for Sam. He knew this was stupid, knew that his little brother would smack him on the head if he knew what Dean was doing, but Sam was not there. Sam was dead, so he did not have a say in the matter. Somehow, everything did not even seem like enough.

"Well, not everything," she said suddenly, as if only just remembering, and smiled at Dean as he met her eye. "I've always had a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a puppy that I just want to play with." The tip of her tongue poked out and ran lazily over her top lip. Dean wanted to kill her, shot her fucking head of, but he wanted Sam back even more.

"So I'm gonna be nice to you here, give you a break," she continued. "I'm gonna let you keep your soul."

Dean only stared, too shocked to grasp the meaning of her words, and he knew he should back away from this, that it had gone too far, but he could not. If he backed away now Sam would be dead, would always be dead, and what was Dean supposed to do then? What did he care about the world, about consequences, if he was all alone? He had already said it to Bobby, screamed it at him, and even though he had said he was sorry he had still meant it. (Then let it end!)

"Don't look so shocked, sugar. You'll understand in time," she said. "And isn't it a fair deal? You get to keep both Sammy and your soul. What else could you ask for?"

And Dean knew she was right, knew that he had already accepted her offer. The hell with consequences! He did not care, not if he got Sam.

In two quick strides he was pressed close to her and with a hand on the back of her neck he crashed his lips against hers, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Like Sam's life depended on it.

After an eternity, or maybe just a few seconds, he pushed her away and staggered back a few steps. His hand quickly came up to wipe every trace of her of his lips and he spat on the ground for good measure. When he finally looked up again she was gone.

"Nice doing business with you," he mumbled, spat on the ground once more, and turned back around to the Impala.

Only it was not there. It was not anywhere.

"Son of a bitch!"