Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you can, and see ya in the next story. I still own nothing…



The pyre burned, the flames warming his face. He had his hands in his pockets-or hand. His right arm was in a sling. He would never really understand how he survived. He was capable of remembering the beginning, but the ending was a complete blur.

Blue-green eyes were looking directly at him when he pulled the trigger. The bullet had pierced Sam's heart, but Lucifer didn't fall. He just looked down at the wound and said, "Ow." He then threw Dean into a wall, without touching him.

The drywall had cracked, pain shooting through his body. He struggled to his feet, his leg shaking violently. Lucifer smiled and threw him, again with his mind, through the closet doors. That was when Dean felt his arm pop out of place. He held in a scream, trying to get up. The room was spinning slightly, making him feel like he was going to get sick.

"Shocked, are you?" Lucifer walked toward him, pulling him up by the hair. Before Dean could answer, his head was slammed into the drywall of the closet. Blood slowly started dripping down his face, but that didn't stop Lucifer from attacking him a second time. The second blow made Dean's ears start ringing.

"Oops," Lucifer muttered letting the hunter fall to the floor. The place was spinning worse and he wasn't even standing.

"You know, Dean, I always wanted to earn the trust of a gullible, stupid hunter," Lucifer had said. He rolled Dean over, a small smile on his face. "Did you really think your brother was just a figment of your useless imagination?" he never gave Dean a chance to reply, just drilled his foot into Dean's side.

The hunter started coughing, trying to draw in a breath. Lucifer didn't give him a chance to regain his breathing just kicked the hunter again. He kicked him a third time and then stepped back. Dean was coughing, the taste of blood in the back of his throat.

"I mean, I have powers no hunter has ever come up against. None. And all I had to do was pretend to be your brother, use his useless memories and your thoughts against you. You were so lonely, so upset with what you had to do, that you were ready to believe your mind made me up."

"You…you were…?"

"Sammy? Yes, Dean, I was Sammy." Lucifer crouched next to Dean's head, the blood from his wound soaking Sam's shirt. He reached into Dean's pocket, pulling out his gun. The fallen angel weighed it in his hand, looking at the freshly cleaned weapon, and stood up. He pointed it at Dean and fired, the bullet piercing his already hurt leg. Dean screamed, clutching his bleeding appendage.

"Sorry about that," Lucifer muttered throwing the gun across the room. He walked back toward The Devil's Trap, looking up at it. "Never really liked these things; they were always the downfall of all my demons." He shook his head turning to look at Dean.

The room was slowly dimming, making Dean seriously doubt he was going to stay awake. He tried to tap into the Winchester stubbornness, hoping that would help him stay conscious.

Lucifer sighed, crossing the room back to Dean. He sat next to the hunter and said, "Do you want me to let Sam go?" Dean didn't need to nod, he knew Lucifer knew he wanted nothing more than to have his brother back.

"Okay, I'll leave him. He was getting boring anyway. And I am feeling generous, so I won't even kill you either. Not today." Lucifer got to his feet, looking down at the hunter. His face was getting blurry; Dean wasn't sure how long he could hold on. "But keep in mind, Winchester, when I see you again I won't hesitate to kill you." And with that blinding white light erupted through the room. Dean shielded his eyes, not opening them until he heard a body hit the ground.

He looked over, seeing his brother lying deathly still. "Sam," Dean said in a hoarse voice. He dragged himself across the room, leaving a blood trail in his wake. "Sammy, wake up." He reached his brother, not even sure he was alive. He touched his brother's face, hoping to get a response. He got nothing.

"Come on, Sammy. You've gotta wake up," Dean begged tears forming in his eyes. "Please wake up." The room was becoming fuzzy; he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He fell onto his side, whispering, "Wake up." The last thing he remembered was a pair of feet approaching him…

The fire was almost out; he looked across the pyre at Bobby. The older hunter was still reeling from Jefferson's death. John had always predicted that Jeff would be the first to die. He was always jumping into situations without thinking, but no one thought he'd die from a fire. They always figured he'd go down fighting.

Dean felt someone stop by his side. The person's shoulder touched his, the familiar touch making his head reel from what he almost lost. If Castiel hadn't of showed up when he did, if he hadn't of brought Sam back, Dean was sure his brother's body would be the one burning.

They stood in silence, watching the fire die down, and then started to head back to Bobby's house. Bobby mumbled something about fixing dinner, but Dean knew it was useless. Neither him nor Sam were about to eat any of it. They haven't been capable since after Lucifer disappeared.

Dean settled on the couch once they entered the house, his leg still hurting from the bullet wound. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He felt Sam sit next to him. Without opening his eyes he said, "We're going to have to leave soon."

"Yeah, I know," Sam responded. They had no idea where Lucifer was, he had gone quiet since leaving Sam's body. They had to start tracking him down, after they figured out a way to kill him.

"This fight is going to suck," Dean commented feeling himself start to drift off.

"No doubt," Sam agreed settling back, too. Dean could tell his brother was about to go to sleep, too. He knew for a fact that once his brother went to sleep, like he himself would, Sam would wake up from a nightmare. They both had had nightmares; both had woken up and stayed awake for several hours over the last two days. They mostly talked, mostly discussed tactics, both just happy the other one was okay for the time being.

Both knew their relationship was far from patched up. Their last fight was still etched into their brains. Deep down both were still angry at one another, but eventually it would die down and they'd be nearly back to normal. But what is normal anyway, Dean thought as he drifted off.


Bobby walked into the living room, about twenty minutes later, to find both brothers crashed on the couch. Dean was using Sam's shoulder as a pillow, while Sam's arm rested against Dean's leg. Bobby crossed the room, picking a blanket off the foot of the couch. He unfolded it, throwing it over both brothers.

He stepped back, studying them for a moment. He had a flash back to two little boys crashed on his couch, the older one six, the younger one two. They were so innocent back then. And just like that, the small boys he had helped raise turned back into their older counterparts. Both would never be that innocent again, never.

Hating to think about the weight that rested on the Winchester boys' shoulders, but still knowing he had to, Bobby walked back into the kitchen. He settled at the kitchen table, pulling a bunch of newspapers toward him, and started to search them. He had a fallen angel to find.