Title: Pieces of Eight

Rating: Mature - for Language, some sexual themes, violence

Summary/Prompt: Somewhere near the end of Season 5, a bit of Season 4, and into Season 6. I am however, putting my own spin on things. Reworking some plots and deconstructing many episodes so that I can bluntly steal from them and make a completely new story arch theme with new characters and so on. In this AU Sam and Dean were NOT primarily saved by God at their lowest times. I introduce new characters, including a possible love interest for Sam and I keep Lisa and Ben for Dean. There is plenty of emotion to go around and lots of hurt Dean and hurt Sam and so on. Its a work in progress so I will be updating with new chapters once a week.

Warnings/Spoilers: Some from Season 4, 5, and 6
Word Count: So far a lot hehehehe

A/N: Some of you may not like Sam and Dean having a romantic interest in their story line however, somewhere down the line you will see where I am going with this. And eventually I hope that you like what I am doing with this. Please review!

A/N: I can't remember where it is that I got the "apple and plumeria" smell from when Akirra appears on the scene but I do know that I am taking that from some piece of fiction that I read somewhere so that it NOT mine but I am BORROWING it.

A/N: The Winchesters, Bobby or Supernatural are not my own, I am merely a super fan writing fiction about them because I can't stop obsessing over this dam TV Show!

-Pieces of Eight

More often than not, when Sam or Dean thinks back on the events of their life, they come to realize that something had to be working with them or against them. Probably against them in most cases, given their penchant for sacrifice and ... well ... really they just die too often to count lately. However, right now Dean can only think of where things went so wrong for him and Sam. Was it Ruby and the demon blood? Was it him making the deal to get Sam back from the dead? Was it that damn Twinkie he stole for Sam when he was 9 years old from that old woman's grocery bag?

Dean pours himself another drink and stares out over the crowded bar once again. Shaking his head, he watches people dancing, laughing, talking animatedly to each other, and abruptly turns back to his drink, anger plainly written on his face. Yeah go ahead, laugh, and play you assholes. You can thank my brother on your way to hell. He finishes his drink and walks out of the bar, a few stares coming his way from the pretty brunette waitress that slipped him her phone number and a number to a friend that wouldn't mind joining them. None of which interested Dean at the moment.

He reached for his cell phone and stared at it. Ben would be safely tucked away in bed, teeth brushed, prayers said, windows, and doors freshly salted. Lisa would be out of the shower by now, drying her hair. Oh, god I can still smell her hair. Dean inhales a shaky breath, remembering their last argument and how good it felt the next morning to feel her arms wrapped around him, her knee between his legs, skin so soft against his back. Arguing was great when you can have makeup sex.

What am I doing here? I should be with Lisa and Ben, not sitting in this damn fucking car waiting for some asshole demon to show up. God I hate Crowley, I hate my life, I hate ... Dean stops himself short and pounds his fist on the steering wheel of the Impala. Damn it Sam, what happened. How did we get so fucked up little brother?

"Miss me?" Dean nearly jumps out of his skin at Crowley's sneering voice. He swings around in his seat and looks at the demon, anger rolling off him in waves.

"You dick! If it was up to me I'd have torched your bones in Scotland!" Crowley laughs and straightens his black trench coat around himself, angling a long-suffering glare at Dean.

"Having relationship issues with the moose again or just missing the apron strings the sexy minx has tied around your boys?" Crowley smirks evilly at Dean, looking pointedly towards Dean's crotch. Dean draws in a long breath trying hard to calm his nerves.

"Just answer the question. Is he my brother or is Lucifer back at the prom again?" he asked quietly looking out over the hood of the Impala. Crowley watched a range of emotions play over Dean's face.

"He's Sam. Mazel Tov." Dean glanced at the empty seat not sure what he was feeling. Disappointment. Relief. He settled on fear, because that means that this man was changed. So much so, that Dean hated him. Hated that Sam was so unemotional, cold, heartless, and capable of lying and almost killing him for a mission. A hunt. He closed his eyes, the pain squeezing his heart once more.

How much more can I take? How much more can they take from us? From me? Sam should be a hero, not what he is now. How could they do that to him? How could this happen? The cell phone rang, Dean looked at it, and it was Sam. Hands shaking he hit the ignore button and the call went to his voice mail. God help me I just can't be in the same air space as him. I hate him. I hate what he's become. I hate knowing what he's capable of doing. I hate knowing I have to answer that call because if I don't who else might Sam go after next? Who else will keep him from doing only God knows what he'll do next? Where is God?

"Cas ..." Dean breaths through his panic attack, people walking around his car staring in his window. Cas if I asked would you come? Would you even help me? Even you are different. Almost as cold as Sam, changed. Why couldn't I have gone to same place you and Sam are at? Why can't I be the unfeeling prick who can step on anyone to get what I want? God what do I want? Another drink? Like Lisa said, another half pint? I almost wish Veritas were still here, bitch that she was; at least she would have told me the truth. Hell the bitch did tell me the truth didn't she? Sam lied to me. Jesus, he LIED to me. Dean's phone rings repeatedly it was Sam. Again, it rolls into voice mail. Dean stares at the phone a bit longer, then dials a number.

"I can't do this Bobby." Dean's voice is weary and tired. His entire emotional state is in those four words. Bobby tenses up, sighs softly.

"I can't imagine what you're going through Dean but damit that's Sam. He's not a monster, he's not a demon, he's Sam. Cas told you the amount of demon blood he had to consume would change him permanently. Sam never wanted to come back Dean. He never expected to deal with this 'cause he knew he would be a permanent resident of hell. I don't know how he's coping; obviously not well," Dean snorts "but ask yourself this: Will you ditch your brother NOW? What that boy's been through to make sure YOU had your life... hell to make sure EVERYONE had a life? Will you ditch him now Dean?" Dean rubs a hand over his face and looks up at the stars.

"I hate him Bobby. I can't stand the thought of what's he's been doing, of what he's done to me, what he's obviously capable of doing to me. I just ... I can't ... "Dean's voice breaks and tears slip down his face. He scrubs them off with his sleeve and rubs a hand over face once again. Clearing his throat, he says, "Bobby I need you to ..."

"Screw you Dean. I listened to this shit last year too. Right about the time you told that boy to take a hike, for the second time in his life, he had his family toss him aside because he was different. He's different again and now your gonna do it to him a third time? He's broken Dean. Something is broken and you of all people should know that too. But he didn't give up on you and if you give up on him I'm gonna come out there. And when I do I'm gonna kick your ass you hear me?" Bobby knew the only way to get Dean through this was to get him fired up. And it worked.

"Alright damit! If you want me to fix him then what the fuck is wrong with him? I can't get through to him... I ..." A fluttering sound is the only announcement he gets when Castiel begins to tap on his window.

"Dean?" Cas looks intuitively at Dean, who still has the phone to ear, tears spilling down his face, mouth hanging open, gaping at Cas standing outside his door.

"Dean!" Bobby yells, "What the hell is going on?"

"I'll call you back!" Dean yanks open the door and gets out of the car.

"What the hell Cas!"

"You did call for me yes?" Cas stares at Dean who twists around looking over the parking lot making sure they were alone. He rubs his hand over his face for the thousandth time and then grabs Cas's shoulder pointing his finger in his face.

"What. Is. Wrong. With. Sam. And don't give me anymore bullshit either Cas. I'm fucking fed up with Angels and Heaven and Hell. He deserves better than this. He saved the entire human race, he saved your ass, your Nazi angels up there's assess, hell he even saved Hell's flaming ass. He deserves more than this and I want ANSWERS damit, right now Cas!" Cas sighed and shook his head looking back up at Dean.

"Let's go have a drink and I'll tell you what I have so far." Dean was shocked the angel actually agreed to spill what he had so far and eagerly followed Cas back into the bar.

Seated in a darkened corner where they could get as much privacy as possible, Cas began to relate in short detail what he could put together so far. The waitress brought their shots and a bottle of whiskey at Cas's request. Dean raised his eyebrows at this but let it go because he figured if Cas was drinking then this wasn't going to be good.

"Sam has no soul." Dean choked on the contents of shot and looked furtively around the room for something anything that could make him understand those words.

"What?" he asked stunned. He motioned for the waitress to come over and grabbed a cigarette pack out of her jeans pocket and matches off the tray. She started to speak, trying to twist away from him, but at his look, she shrugged.

"That better be one hell of a tip you're giving me mister." Then sauntered off to fetch him an ashtray.

"You don't smoke Dean." Cas said frowning.

"Fuck you Cas. Even I can change into a cold hearted prick if I want to." Dean slips the waitress a twenty who nods and hands him his ashtray. Dean lights the cigarette and blows out a long stream of smoke sits back in the booth they are sitting in and leans his head back. His arms stretched out to his sides, cigarette dangling in one hand shot cup in the other. He stares at the ceiling.

"Dean, I know that you are angry, tired, and suffering. I may not be here by your side, but I want you to know that I am ON your side. I have certain... regrettable things that I must do now and my attention is not focused solely on you or your brother at the moment but I am HERE. You and I share a bond, friendship I believe, and I value that. It keeps me ... focused ... on the things I must do now, the responsibilities that I have now. But I truly feel your pain, anguish, and confusion. I will not let Sam languish. You are right. He deserves better." Castiel watches Dean as he slowly digests the heartfelt confession.

"Is that why he's acting like he is? Doing the things he's done, because he has no soul Cas?" Dean asks still staring at the ceiling.

"I believe that is correct. A human's soul is what motivates them to do good or evil, it gives the ability to have a conscience, to feel love, apathy, joy, hate, anger, fear... all those. But most of all it is where the human spirit is housed. You draw strength from your soul Dean. Sam, I think, is running full steam on nothing but a memory of what his life was. I don't think he feels anything real." Dean straightens up at that and looks at Cas. Drawing on his cigarette, Cas grabs the bottle and refills their shot glasses.

"So how did it happen?" Cas looks at Dean. "Bullshit Cas you spill EVERYTHING you know NOW to me or get the fuck away and stay away." Dean's painful eyes bore into Cas. Finding it hard to meet that stare he looks away for a brief moment then back.

"Michael." Dean nods, matter of fact.

"Where can I find him and how do I kill him?" Cas shakes his head, eyes wide.

"You can't kill Michael and you won't find him either Dean. You have to let me do this. If you had stayed, you would have known ... "Dean was shaking his head, drawing deeply from the cigarette this time and gulping down the contents of his shot.

"I couldn't Cas. Seeing your torture that kid was bad enough but doing, it to Sam was over the top. Part of me didn't want to know and part was too afraid to know. I thought he was a monster that I was going to have to kill and if you confirmed that, I was going to have to do it. And I don't know ... I would have done it. I wanted to... I think even if... I don't know. Maybe even if you said he was Sam... maybe I wanted to kill him anyway." He rubbed a hand over face again. Cas leaned over the table and grabbed Dean's wrist.

"He was sincere Dean. He wants help. He wants his soul back and he wants his brother to be proud of him. He even asked if it was best that he went back to the pit." Dean looked up shocked. "As terrified as he is he still knows that what he's doing is wrong. That it's not what he would do and is frightened of what he might get back when he gets his soul again. He's vulnerable right now to corruption, fear. He needs to be grounded Dean, by someone who knows him and loves him. He needs to be filled with as much of what he was before to ensure that he's not tainted when the soul comes back. If he's tainted, then his soul will be tainted."

"Damit, why did Michael do this?" Dean asked. "Does he hate us that much? Hate me? Hates Sam? Why?"

"I simply don't have the answers to all of this." Cas hesitates. "There's more. Something I discovered, but don't understand." Dean looks at him.

"What now? What the hell else could there be Cas?" Deans agonized eyes almost pleaded with Cas not to say anything else but he knew he had to know everything if he was going to get Sam back.

"I kept seeing the number eight over and over again in Sam's mind. Small glimpses of his time in the cage. And it should have been more Dean. I should have accessed all of it but I couldn't." Dean frowned.

"Ok, so Michael tampered with his head and what Sammy can't remember his time in hell? Hurray for him, its best." Dean waved a hand and put the cigarette out. He filled his glass one more time, noting the bottle was almost empty. He eyed Cas who was still frowning.

"God, what? He's got some freaky curse or something? Alien body snatchers have come to take over? We finally have proof he really is the missing link to Cro-Magnon man? What?"

"A power that I have never felt is blocking his mind, holding it back from fracturing into pieces. The number eight is a symbol, as if it was something I was being shown, not a memory of Sam's. Pieces of Eight." Dean smiled.

"Styx." Cas stared at Dean. "A rock band. Their great actually. Renegade, Sing for the Day, and Pieces of Eight was song on the album... Never mind." Cas is still staring at Dean. "What?"

"When you came back from hell and found the IPod, did Sam ever explain it to you?" Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Kind of. Why?" Cas frowned.

"He couldn't bear to hear your music in the car. He never turned on the radio after that he listened to his IPod. So why would Sam have a song and symbol in his head of music that he could barely stand to listen to because it brought back such bad memories?" Dean's eyes widened. He never knew, and his heart lurched again. Sammy. My god. Dean squeezed his eyes shut then opened them back up again and looked at Cas.

"It means something else then? What?" Cas shook his head.

"We have to find out. First, you have to go to your brother. He's still waiting at the motel. Get him and go to Bobby's. See if you can get him to talk to you about the symbol of eight and anything or anyone he might remember from the cage. I'll see what I can do about locating Michael." They stood and Dean dropped some money on the table. Pocketing the cigarettes and matches and finishing off the last of the bottle. He turned to Cas.

"Thanks for being here, again." Cas nodded.

"I'll contact you at Bobby's when I have something on Michael." Dean nodded and they walked out the bar. He looked over just as he thought he heard the whoosh of wings and Cas was gone. Leaving him nothing to do but pick up Sam and drive to Bobby's house.