This is me re-updating my stories. My page breaks disappeared and I put in new ones. So, I do not own no one recognizable and thanks for the patience.
Bobby Singer could hear his phone ringing, almost like a banshee shirking at him. He growled as he got to his feet, knees popping in protest, and headed toward the phone. He had been researching the disappearances of three college kids, all missing from their spring break trip. Bobby suspected demon possession, figuring the three kids were in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, he had sent the Winchester boys after them. They were supposed to confirm his suspicions and then head back to decide what to do next. They were an hour over due. Knowing Dean, like Bobby did, he was probably confronting the demons head on.
"Stupid, boy," he muttered as he picked up his phone. "Hello…"
"Bobby," a familiar, panicked voice replied.
"Sam, what's going on?" he asked gripping the phone tighter to his ear. He was trying to keep calm but images of Dean, lying dead, kept flicking to his mind. What other reason would make Sam sound so freaked. Something must have happened to Dean.
"Bobby, we're in trouble. We really need…" Sam cut off. It sounded like the phone was wrenched out of his hand then a new voice said, "Hello, who is this please?" it was a girl's voice, she sounded like she was in her twenties. She could have been one of the missing college kids.
"Who is this?" she repeated. There was a cry of pain from the background, it almost sounded like Dean.
"You kill them, so help me God…"
"Your God is not going to help them. Besides, they're too cute to kill." There was an intake of breath; Bobby could only assume the demon did something to one of the brothers.
"Just let them go," Bobby begged. He couldn't tell her they've done nothing to her, the Winchesters had a reputation for killing anything evil that reared its ugly head. Demons were among the long list of things that hated them with a passion.
"I can't do that. You see I have a boss and he really wants the remaining Winchesters alive. I could make you a deal; I could spare one of them. I could tell my boss that one died under our care. I'll even let you choose. You choose and I'll leave him on your doorstep. I can't guarantee he won't be in any shape to walk on his own, but he'll be alive.
"Go on, Bobby choose. Dean or Sam? Sam or Dean?" Bobby couldn't choose. Both boys were like the sons he never had. He couldn't let one live while the other one was given to some strange demon.
"Fine, I'll choose," the girl said and hung up. Bobby was still gripping the phone, his hand shaking with the force. Slowly he hung it up and rushed to the door. He looked out the window seeing no one. He wasn't expecting the demon to hold up her end of the bargain.
Letting out a growl, he headed toward his extensive amounts of books, planning to start researching possible escaped demons, when he heard a thump on his porch. He rushed back to the door pulling it open.
Sam was lying on his back, blood pouring out of a head wound. He was holding his arm, the appendage at an odd angle. He was trying to stay conscious, which made Bobby proud of him. The older hunter crouched down and helped the younger hunter up. Half dragging, half carrying the younger guy he brought Sam into the house, lowering him onto the couch.
He rushed into his bathroom, grabbed his first aid kit, and rushed back into the living room. Sam was still holding his arm, staring at the floor. He looked so young and scared then that Bobby flashed back to when he was six or seven, when he used to always be full of worry when his dad didn't come back for weeks on end. Dean had been the one to tell him not to worry, that Dad would be back when he was done with a hunt. Dean was like Sam's anchor. Just thinking of Dean was like a stab to Bobby's heart. He would not be responsible for John's oldest boy's second death.
"Hey, let me check out that cut," Bobby suggested crossing the room. He sat next to Sam, who was still staring at the floor. He touched the younger Winchester's shoulder, hoping to get a response, but he only felt how much Sam was trembling.
"We'll find him, Sam, don't worry. Dean is not lost; we won't lose him again. Besides, if Castiel is right, and the man upstairs needs him, then they'll help." Bobby really didn't believe his own words. The angels never really helped the boys before; why would they start now?
Dean woke up to familiar laughter, he knew that laugh anywhere; heard the laugh for thirty years before agreeing to its owner's request. He opened his eyes to see Alastair looking directly at him. He was in the body of an older guy (probably in his fifties); he was probably a decent working man before Alastair literally entered his life. He could have been a banker or a farmer. Maybe an accountant. Dean didn't know, nor did he want to dwell on it; he was more concerned with trying not to panic.
"Alastair," he muttered. His hands and feet were chained to a wall, keeping him pretty much at Alastair's mercy. He didn't even try to get free; he didn't need any more bleeding wounds. He was banged up as it was, having been tossed around by Alastair's lackeys, which happened to be the missing college students.
"Dean, it's been a while. Since my hunt for Anna, I think. It sucks that she got away, but not before you hooked up with her." Dean was taken back to that night, in the backseat of his car. The night before Anna went back to the angels.
"I'm surprised God didn't smite you down for banging one of his solders; even if she was the 'black-sheep' of his army." Dean didn't even try to determine how Alastair knew any of this; Demon's had their own way of knowing things. The demonic grapevine was like a long, accurate game of telephone.
"It's too bad little Sammy got away, I could have had a set," Alastair continued walking away from Dean. He headed out of Dean's line of vision, but still continued to talk, "Oh, well, you'll do just nicely." He reappeared holding a long, sharp knife. The lone light bulb like a spot light on the beginning of Dean's pain; except he wouldn't be able to wake up from this nightmare.
"I'm not going to kill you, Dean," Alastair said calmly running the knife down Dean's face. "No, you'll either go to heaven or get yanked out of hell, again. I did not see the angels doing that, no I did not. Of course, where are they now? They aren't here." Dean flinched when the knife nicked his cheek. He felt blood slowly slide down his face from the new cut.
"Opps," Alastair muttered pulling the knife back. Dean could see his blood dripping onto the concrete floor. "But I can't promise I won't cause as much pain as possible.
"Too bad you aren't a demon," Alastair commented as he walked out of Dean's line of vision again, to what Dean could only assume was a table of weapons.
"Why?" he asked breaking his long silence. He put the famous Winchester mask into place, holding back his fear and anger.
"Then I wouldn't have to do this." Alastair was back, holding a red hot piece of iron. Smiling his evil, yellow smile he put the poker to Dean's tee-shirt, burning a hole in the fabric to the hunter's flesh. Dean held in a scream as the poker seared him. It was all he needed, to show weakness in front of his old, what to call him, "boss."
"Ah, Deano, I thought you'd at least scream for me," Alastair said pulling the poker away. Eyes streaming, Dean looked directly into Alastair's victim's brown eyes and said, "Wouldn't give you the satisfaction."
"I'll make you, Dean. I did before and I'll do it again," Alastair promised pressing the poker to Dean's flesh again. He still wouldn't scream, but he didn't know how long he could hold on. Sam, if you are out there, hurry.
Sam had a very high tolerance for pain, it came with the Winchester blood, but when Bobby snapped his arm back into place he let out a single cry of pain. Bobby said something, probably about how everything would be okay. Sam didn't take anything in, he was still trying to block out the images of watching his brother get thrown around like a ragdoll. Those demons weren't too touchy about what they did to Dean. It was almost like their boss didn't care how hurt Dean was as long as he had him. But why didn't they take me? Why am I here, safe at Bobby's, while my brother is stuck at the mercy of some demon?
"Are you okay?" Bobby asked worriedly. His voice brought Sam crashing back to earth, the pain in his arm hitting him hard. Bobby had made him a makeshift sling out of an old pillowcase and offered it to him.
"Why am I here, Bobby," Sam asked ignoring the sling. "Why am I here and Dean is gone? Why would that demon want him and not take me?" Sam saw something in Bobby's eyes; something the older hunter tried to hide, but failed to do. "What did you do?"
"The demon, one of the girls, made me an offer. She gave me a choice between you or your brother…"
"And you chose me…"
"No, I didn't choose either one of you. She chose for me and she chose you. Obviously her boss wanted Dean more than he wanted you."
"There's only one demon I can think of that would want Dean. One demon, besides Lilith, who would be happy to see him back in hell…"
"Alastair," Bobby finished for Sam.
"Exactly," Sam muttered. "He had his lackeys possess those kids so he could get to Dean. He knew Dean wouldn't let them stay possessed. I should have done something…"
"You're not talking about that freaky hoodoo crap are you? Of all the things to use to get Dean back, I don't think that will be the best choice."
"Bobby, just let me decide. If it'll get Dean back, then it is our best choice."
"I think we should think up a better plan. Any other plan besides your… powers. We don't want to do something that could get Dean killed. We need to strategize; we need to come up with a fool proof plan. Which means no demonic hoodoo unless we need it: a last resort."
"Fine," Sam replied breaking. There was no point in arguing, plus he didn't want to. What he wanted was his brother, standing beside him, making stupid jokes about random crap. What he wanted was to just hear Dean's voice.
The phone rang, making the two hunters jump. Sam answered it first, the phone closer to him. "Hello?"
"I knew you weren't dead." the voice may have been different, but the malevolent tone was just the same. Sam had been right, Alastair did have his brother.
"Where's Dean," he hissed ignoring his shaking hand.
"He's here, Sam. Sleeping off a round of torture. He's alive, Sammy, don't worry. I wouldn't dream of killing him; not yet anyway."
"Let him go," Sam said softly, knowing if he spoke any louder his voice would crack.
"No, I don't think so. You see, I want to kill his angel. Castiel, that's his name right? The one who pulled him out of hell. It'd be great to kill Anna, too, but the last time I checked she's among the angels again. I'm rather disappointed about that, the look on your brother's face would be so priceless if he could watch her die."
"Only angels can kill angels, Alastair."
"Yeah, but Lucifer, as you know, is an angel. A fallen one, but still an angel. When he rises, and he will, he'll make sure Castiel, Anna, and all of the others angels are killed."
"So, you plan to kidnap Cass? Hold him against his will and hope the other angels don't come after him. I mean, they probably will. Plus, the man upstairs wanted Dean out of your clutches, and if he needed him so much he'll find a way to get him away from you again."
"They can try," Alastair muttered and the phone went dead. It took all of Sam's self-control not to whip Bobby's cordless out a window. He set it down, his hands shaking, and sank into a chair.
"Alastair?" Bobby asked paler than before. Sam merely nodded as he buried his face in his hands.
"Self-pity won't bring your brother back," a familiar voice said causing both Bobby and Sam to jump. They both looked over to see the ever popular solemn expression of Castiel. He was still wearing his vessel, a black haired, blue eyed man with a tan trench coat, shirt, tie, dress slacks; a real average Joe who prayed to be a vessel. Prayed to be some angel's bitch, Sam almost heard Dean say.
"Where is he, Cass?" Sam asked immediately getting to his feet. He didn't want to sound so desperate, but it was his brother. Sue me for sounding weak.
"That I do not know nor am I instructed to go after him," Castiel replied in his famous emotionless voice. It must kill him that Dean is in captivity, Sam thought bitterly.
"Why," Bobby questioned joining the conversing guys. He looked seriously pissed, almost as if his only plan had been flattened. As if he only thought Castiel could get Dean back. We don't need him to get my brother back.
"My superiors know what Alastair has planned for me; they don't want him to kill me. They, however, don't want Dean killed either. They plan to send down another angel, his name's Joshua…"
"Another angel, well that's just perfect. Yeah, while Dean's dying we have to rely on another angel. Why can't you go, Dean trusts you. I doubt he'll trust some other angel." Sam wasn't sure what Dean would or would not trust; a lot had changed since he returned from hell, between both of them.
"I cannot go; I have been instructed to stand down…"
"And for good reason, Castiel," a new voice said and a second person appeared. He was taller than Sam, the first thing anyone noticed. His hair was dark red, his eyes an emerald green, and he was paler than a ghost. He could have been a computer geek before he became a vessel; he even wore the glasses. Sam could only figure they were for show, angels didn't seem like they needed to improve their vision at all.
"So, we gonna find your brother or not?" Joshua asked curiously. Sam and Bobby exchanged incredulous looks then both shrugged. "Then let's get to work."