Dean's body hit the ground with a sickening thud. Sam screamed, "DEAN!" and ran toward his brother, fear written all over his face. Sam dived at Dean as more shots flew over their heads.

Suddenly, Dean made a move for the duffle bag and painfully made another tug on the zipper, but it still didn't budge.

"You hit?" questioned Sam, heaving a sigh of relief that Dean was still moving at least.

"Nah, I'm good, you wanna crawl up here and open this bad boy up? I'm slightly impaired at the moment." Dean waved his arms around from his crouched position, wincing slightly as the sound of more bullets whizzed by overhead.

"Nope, I'd rather wait here to be hit by a stray bullet," Sam quipped, moving to the bag and getting more holy water out.

"Well, at least he's not shooting AT us, more like at whatever is in his now messed up head…scratch that, his more messed up head." Dean looked at Tommy and his attack on the wall next to them. It seemed as if Tommy would do just about anything to try and kill whatever he was seeing and was hurting himself in the process, pounding on the walls and firing at such close range it was causing his ears to bleed.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then at Tommy and the Sandman, the former being very violent and vocal, while the latter was slowly closing in on them all. Sam handed Dean a bottle of the blessed water that Dean grabbed up in an awkward fashion. Together they began to fight back. Dean sprayed holy water at the Sandman, causing him slow in his approach, but not stop. Sam got around behind Tommy and tackled him to the ground, forcing the gun out of his hands and pressing his head to the ground so he could wash the sand from hell out of his eyes. Tommy hit Sam and flailed his legs, trying to get away, but Sam wouldn't let him.

"Let go, demonic scum of Satan! You horse's ass! You bastard!"

"Dammit Tommy, I know it doesn't seem this way, but I'm trying to help you!" Sam's arm stayed firm and soon the fighting began to subside as the holy water did the trick. In less than a minute Tommy only fidgeted and Sam was able to grab the hypodermic needle from this his shirt.

"Well, damn, Dean, it's still good." Sam was in awe at the intact vial of morphine. He quickly rushed over to help his brother, who was now fighting a losing battle. The holy water in the bottle had just run out and Dean was backed into a corner, one eye still steeped in visions of hellfire and hellhounds, the other focused on the Sandman's hand that was creeping slowly under his robes and finding the sand that hid there.

Suddenly, Dean saw Sam behind Morpheus. Unknown to the Sandman, the two shared a quick conversation with eyes and small hand gestures. A terse nod from Dean and Sam got into position. Just as the hand withdrew from the robes and the eyes flashed acidic orange, Dean rushed the Sandman, using his full body weight to knock him to the ground. Sam swiftly moved forward and jammed the needle into the neck region of the creature, pushed the plunger down, and then pulled the needle back out, stepping away from Morpheus while Dean quickly rolled away from the Sandman and onto the rickety floor. Both were prepared for Morpheus to jump up and continue to fight, Dean in a half-crouch and Sam ready with more blessed water and a shotgun. What came next shocked them both.

Morpheus screamed out in agony, his entire body convulsing. Pieces of skin peeled away, letting the acid-blood leak out onto the floor. Rays of bright orange light shot out of his mouth and eyes. The screams turned to obscenities: "Yoooouuu'llllllllllll pppphhaaaaaaayyyy fffffffffffffooooorrr thiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssss bbbaassstaards. Sssssonnnsssss oooofff bittttttcccchhheesssss! Ddaaaammmmnnn yoooouuuu aaaallllll tah-tah-tah-tuoooo hhhheeellllll!"

Like time-lapsed film, the ancient creature's body dissolved into oozing acid and sand before their eyes.

"Dude, he's such a pansy. Like the freakin' Wicked Witch of the West he MELTED of all things." Dean shook his head, "It was just too easy."

Sam cast a sidelong glance at Dean, "You're kidding, right? First off, that was more of a dissolving then a melting."

"Tomato, tamato." Dean shrugged while Sam just glared.

"Second, we've been tailing this thing for days, and it's been around for millennia Dean. We. Just. Killed. A. Demigod! Doesn't that sorta hold some amazement for you? Plus, I'm not the one with acid burns and broken wrists."

"If I could, I'd smack you upside the head, man. That's just not cool, poking fun at another man's injuries." Dean raised his hand and did the next best thing, giving Sam the one finger salute.

"Jerk."

"Bitch. Let a dying man rest in peace." Dean moved over to the two unconscious forms of Tommy and Tina. "Should we wake them?" He grinned and lightly kicked at Tommy with his foot. "Rise and shine douchebag."

Sam sighed, the events of the day paling in comparison to the fact that Dean's death still waited; and they weren't any closer to getting him out of his deal. The fact that Dean had seen the hellhounds in his vision of hell only showed Sam how much Dean kept hidden from him and his true feelings about hell. Tommy's groaning snapped Sam out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, Tommy. Some help you turned out to be. Turned your own gun on us. What are you smoking up in Modesto? That's twice we've saved your sorry rear." Sam offered a hand to help Tommy up as Dean stepped back.

"I'd have offered to do the same, but I'm a bit handicapped at the moment, although, Sammy raises a good point. Why the hell are you here and not California? We said ship the stuff, not freakin' personally hand it to us."

"Dude, I so, like, totally couldn't miss out on the action, not after last time. And I did awesome, man, totally knocked that freakin' door off its hinges!" Tommy beamed with his accomplishments.

"Yeah, you also shot the shit out of this place and nearly killed me in the process," complained Dean. The adrenaline rush was over and both Tommy and Sam could see the pain that was slowly creeping into Dean's face.

"Well, man, if it wasn't for me, you'd both be dead, sure as I'm Tommy Smith!"

Dean looked at Tommy with a questioning grin. "When did you become Tommy Smith?"

"When I realized Tommy Hilfiger wasn't gonna fly," he said smugly.

Dean and Sam just looked at each other.

"Ok, whatever. Where's Tina?" Sam glanced around the room and found the still unconscious form of Tina lying in the living room area, dangerously close to a gaping hole in the floorboards. Sam rushed over to her, moving Tina out of harm's way. She whimpered slightly, struggling to open her eyes.

"Where am I? Where's that…that…THING!" Tina began to hyperventilate.

"Sshhhh, it's ok Tina." Sam held onto Tina, comforting her as her eyes drifted to what remained of the Sandman. She turned her head into Sam's chest and began to sob, all the tension and fear that she had been living with finally released. Dean looked on with concern.

"She gonna be ok, Sammy? I wish to God I'd gotten rid of that thing faster! If only I'd hit it harder with the holy water and rocksalt or if I'd thought of morphine or opium sooner…" Dean's voice trailed off into the stillness, his hand coming up to run down his face.

"Dean, it's fine. She's fine. It's just too much for her." Sam lifted Tina up and cradled her in his arms. "I'm going to take her up to her room. Let her rest. We'll call the cops back on the way out." Sam repositioned Tina in his arms and then lumbered up the stairs with his load.

"Well, there ain't no use for me here anymore. I think I'm gonna get a hotel and catch a few winks, then head on back to Cali." Tommy yawned and stretched, rubbing his still slightly gritty eyes.

"What are you gonna do, walk?" Dean looked outside to see if there was any car sitting out in the drive and sure enough, only the Impala sat in the early morning glow, the sun just starting to rise in the East.

"Nah, I'm calling a cab back here right now." Tommy's face grew thoughtful, "I just hope it's not the same numbskull who drove me here in the first place. Doubt the cabbie would come back here, though." Tommy got out his cell phone and pushed the speed dial for the same cab service he used earlier. The conversation was short and soon the cell snapped shut with a resounding "click."

"All set?" Dean questioned, looking at the interior of the house that was now a safety hazard.

"Yep, said they got someone here in the area, less than 10 minutes away. Thanks for the fun guys. I'm gonna head outside so the taxi driver doesn't see the mess in here when he comes." Tommy reached for the door, looked back a moment, shook his head. "Damn Winchesters," he muttered under his breath and sat on the curb to wait for his ride.

Dean carefully walked around the holey floor and headed upstairs to check on Sam and Tina. He found Tina in her bed, finally resting comfortably after days without a good sleep. Dean made a motion with his head for Sam to follow him back downstairs; it was time to go. Sam gave one last glance to Tina and then left the room.

Downstairs the Winchesters gathered up all the tools of the trade so when the cops came they couldn't be traced. All the guns, holy water bottles, and other supernatural aids were collected as best as they could and placed back in their duffle bag, with Dean mostly watching without the full use of his wrists. They worked in silence; the only sound that interrupted them was an occasional dropped item and the sound of the cab as it picked up Tommy. When they were done Sam made an anonymous call to the local police station.

"Yeah, there's more trouble at the Parker residence, address 405 Maple Hurst Drive." Sam spoke quickly and ended the call before any trace could be made. "Next stop is the ER, Dean. Gotta get those wrists taken care of."

Dean just grunted and followed Sam out to the Impala, "Better go two towns over so as not to get any docs suspicious, seeing as how some of the locals think we're FB friggin' I."

Sam opened the Impala door for Dean after throwing the duffle in the back seat of the car. He got into the driver's seat and the engine roared to life. Dean winced as the Impala bounced over potholes.

"Dude, can you be more careful? She's sensitive!"

"Dean, it's just a damn car, I think it's you who's more sensitive, with your broken wrists and acid washed jeans."

"The 80's are making a comeback, Sammy, get with the times! Gotta be in style when I go."

"Dean, I wish you'd let me get you out of that deal. That's what we need to focus on now, not these damned hunts! Ruby might be able to help and…"

"Shut it, Sammy. I don't wanna talk about it. Just get me to the ER and then get me a burger. Then call Bobby to find another hunt."

Sam glanced at Dean and saw the set expression on his face. He prayed with each hunt they'd find something to help save Dean, or that Dean would have a change of heart.

Dean brooded quietly in the passenger seat. This is all my fault. If only I'd figure out a way to help Sammy get past all this. Maybe there's a rite or something that will help him get off my back. It was my choice. There's no saving me from the pit, and I guess in a way I deserve it, I hate putting him through all this.

Both brothers continued their ride in silence, interrupted only by the sound of classic rock coming from the radio's speakers. The Impala continued on, mile after mile, even after Dean was patched up. The brothers rested only a short while, the impending issue of Dean's deal still unresolved.

Sam still wanted to search for ways to break the deal or kill Lilith.

Dean awaited his fate.

Neither of them aware of the familiar voice that awaits Dean in Ohio on the next hunt Bobby finds them…


Weeks later Dean sits on a park bench, talking on his cell phone. Sam approaches him with a can of soda pop, and tosses it to Dean, asking about the professor they have been investigating, but Dean rises from the bench, changing the subject.

"Pack your panties, Sammy, we're hitting the road.

"What? What's up?" asks Sam.

"That was Bobby, Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and he thinks there's a spirit involved," Dean says…

Begin: "Long Distance Call"

The Beginning of the End