Brother, my Brother...

[likely_evil]

ooc: takes place after this. co-written with Dean = jstliketherifle

Breaking Dean Winchester was taking longer than he thought it would. Ruby, surprisingly, was doing a rather impressive job of keeping his head on his shoulders and well, that just wasn't working. Not at all. Alastair had plans for his dear old friend Dean, and he wasn't going to let a bunch of birds ruin that for him. He would get Dean back, in one capacity or another, and he had to say, the idea of him as a human, going back on everything he ever fought against was rather -- appealing. Destroying what the angels thought he was going to be, what they were hoping he'd become -- that had its perks. And that was why he'd been taking things slow.

Besides, he hadn't been topside since Poland, '43. If he was going to have to spend time above ground, he might as well enjoy it.

He had to admit, it'd set him back a bit with Delilah. He hadn't expected Dean to move that quickly, and it gave the poor sap a bit of hope as opposed to tearing him down even more, but Alastair was finally ready to move in for the kill, especially with the lovely opportunity Agent 99 had presented him with. Dean slipped, and he slipped in a big way. Now was the time to go for the money shot. Now was the time to strike him where it was going to hurt the most, and finally let the demon Dean had become loose on the world.

He made his way through the apartment building quietly, before knocking lightly on the door to the room where he knew Sam was, and waited quietly, hands in his pockets. This would be like taking candy from a baby.

Sam was lying on the couch, playing a videogame that Bruce and Lloyd had given him after they had finished the levels. It had been a long time since Sam let himself relax like this, but after the anger he had been feeling the last two days, he knew he had to take a step back and breathe. The Boss had given him the weekend off to just not have anything to work on. The case he had been on was dead-ending due to Delilah's cover-up tactics, and it wasn't surprising that the security tapes had done budkis to help them figure out what was going on.

The analysts had the data and were working on it. Until then, he was parked in his condo on the couch, waiting for 99 to get home. He had actually made dinner for them which was warming in the oven. She hadn't been home when he got back, and he wanted to apologize for the way he had been acting for the last few days since Ruby had stolen the gun.

When there was a knock at the door, he paused the game and got up, making his way over to the door. His new gun was picked up and tucked into the back of his pants as he walked, untucking his shirt to hide it as he looked out the peephole.

"Can I help you?" he asked, not opening the door just yet.

"I'm looking for a Sam Winchester?" Alastair began slowly, wondering how he could tiptoe around this. Whether he should go right for the gut punch or save it for later. He considered things carefully for a moment before tilting his head to the side slightly. "It's about Delilah St. James."

He hesitated a moment. No one would know where he lived, especially regarding the woman in the hospital. All his paperwork linked back to the fake prescient that their non-control badges came from that was run by some of the lesser or field-retired agents. But again, they made him use his real name for a reason on these cases. His hand slipped around to grab the shotgun from the closet and he placed it on the back of the door, then with that hand on the trigger, he opened the door a crack to look out.

"Alright, what about her?" It was obvious he wasn't going to invite the person in unless they revealed more about what they wanted to tell him.

"Well, I just heard you were curious about the demon who -- carved her up like a Thanksgiving turkey," he said, a slow smirk stretching across his face. "I might have some information for you on this -- Alastair guy."

There was something in his eyes that Sam didn't like, and the smirk wasn't something that made him feel all too safe either. His fingers tightened on the trigger and he carefully looked up and down the hall. "Really. What kind of information?"

"Oh, lots of things. First and foremost being -- " he spread his hands wide and the smirk changed to a grin. " -- you found him."

Sam snuffed, his hip resting into the door frame. "Have I? And why then would you, being the demon I'm currently hunting, come to my door and announce that?" These were the times Sam regretted having given up using his powers. Even if he reached in to find them again, he knew they wouldn't nearly be strong enough. It would come down to old fashioned hunting at this point.

Thankfully, somewhere there was a devil's trap spray painted on the ceiling with a cloth hanging down over it to hide it from sight.

"Well, first of all, I was hoping to come to some kind of -- agreement," he began. "See, I'm kind of in the middle of a major to-do at the moment, and being hunted, well, it cramps the plans. And secondly -- you're next. So really -- killing two birds with one stone."

Sam's eyes narrowed. Then he moved quickly, his finger pulling the trigger. The shotgun would echo down the halls, but it was better than letting the demon get him. He was not going to be "next".

As the shot went, he slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt before running into the condo. First he hit the silent alarm on the living room wall, which would signal CONTROL that he was in trouble, as well as sending a page to both his and 99's phones. He then opened a cabinet in the kitchen, pulling out his hunting knife as well as a holy water flask.

Alastair sighed. Heavily. Shotguns -- they were so messy. And it wasn't as though the deadbolt was going to stop him, but hey -- whatever Sam needed to do to feel safe. He blew the door open easily, before starting to step into the room, eyes going white as he looked around for the former Boy King. "Come out, come out wherever you are, Sammy. I've got someone who's been waiting a mighty long time to see you."

Sam ducked down behind the island. His eyes caught the door to the den. He had to make it in there. The trap was there and it would keep this Alastair still long enough for CONTROL to get here and help him. The only problem was that the demon was going to be in his way, and if Sam didn't get enough of a jump into the doorway, he'd be thrown down the hallway instead and then he'd be trapped in his own apartment.

Looking on the counter, he saw the controller to the radio. He grabbed it, then crept to the end of the counter. He took a deep breath, then turned the radio on full blast and prepared to run across the hall to his safe spot.

The music didn't phase Alastair much. He just turned in the direction of the sound, and spotted Sam making a break for it. His fingers curled, making a motion like he was grabbing for the back of Sam's shirt, and then using his telekinesis to yank Sam backwards, back towards where the demon was standing. "Leaving so soon? The fun hasn't even started yet."

Sam grunted as his back hit the floor, but he held onto the knife tightly. "Sorry, I'm not into your kind of fun," he snarled, his thumb uncapping the holy water and he swiped the flask across his chest so that water flew out at the demon.

And now he was wet. Wonderful. He made a face as he started to swipe some of the water off, before looking down at him, his eyes shifting to white again, not at all dissimilar to the way Lilith's had in the past. "Didn't you get the memo, Sam? I'm pretty high on the payroll." He shifted his weight slightly, before aiming a kick right against the taller man's midsection. "And I don't like getting wet."

The kick took the breath out of Sam and he gasped, but his hunter instinct for survival kicked in and he flipped the knife in his hand and slashed at the leg that was near him, aiming for the kneecap. It would bring his opponent down if not cause a lot of pain.

Well, didn't bring him down, but pain it definitely did cause. It started out as a sharp cry, before it turned into a hearty laugh, as Alastair kicked Sam's hand away before bracing his foot up on the coffee table so that he could remove the knife. "See -- I was looking forward to you, son. If your brother was any indication, you were going to be fight back like the mangy little dogs you Winchesters are. You're made of pretty tough stuff."

He paused once he got the knife out, before moving forward and letting a foot come to rest on Sam's chest, effectively pinning him to the ground. "You see, when I'm not up here, doing things like this -- I get to play with the souls on the rack down in the Pit. Safe to say Dean and I? Got very, very well acquainted."

Sam reached up instantly and grabbed onto the foot, trying to push it away. Then the demon mentioned his brother and his eyes got dangerously cold. "You bastard." He was out of weapons and help wasn't getting here fast enough. And this demon had done things to his brother in Hell. Fighting against the pain in his stomach, Sam stopped trying to push the foot off and instead held onto it as he kicked his feet off the ground, rocking back to wrap a leg around Alastair's chest, his other coming up between the demon's legs to add extra leverage and then the shifted his weight to the side to bring the demon down.

With Sam sitting up. his long legs squeezing the demon's stomach as he jerked the leg that had pinned him back, fingers digging into the knife wound just to add that bit more of pain. "You want a fight, you got one. And I'm going to make sure it hurts if I find out you tortured my brother. And he's not the only one who's trained me."

"Oh? You mean your little lessons in the dark side from Ruby?" He was none to pleased with Ruby, either, but Dean was the bigger picture here. He needed to focus. "Yes, I heard about that number you did on Lilith -- bravo by the way. Bang-up job on that one. But you're soft, Sam. You hadn't touched those powers in -- nearly three years now. You don't have the juice to take on a guy like me after going cold turkey."

Alastair may have been caught off guard for a moment, but it just took him a moment to realize where Sam's balance was and use it against him. He wasn't against getting physical. Never had been. He threw a punch to Sam's face hitting him hard while shifting so that he could get his weight under him and pin the taller man to the ground. "And I didn't just torture Dean, Sam. I tortured with him."

Sam's vision doubled with that hit and he struggled to get up. But he heard the words and snarled. "Liar!" Dean wouldn't hurt people. Not his brother. He had no choice. Nothing else was working so he reached back into his mind to find the powers. He just needed to last a little bit longer until CONTROL got there.

Mentally he reached out, aiming to just PUSH Alastair as far away from him as he could so that he could get up.

Alastair felt the push and leaned back into it, not moving very far, but far enough. He just shrugged slightly, before looking over at Sam. "Figured you wouldn't believe me. Well then -- guess we'll just have to ask him when he gets here, won't we?"

Sam tried to move but he couldn't. His eyes looked at the silent alarm panel, trying to gage how much longer he had. "If you turned Dean into a demon..."

Alastair paused for a minute, before tilting his head to the side slightly. "Not exactly. But regardless, Sammy boy -- you're still bait." He was going to save that particular trump card for later. No use letting everything come out at once. "Shall we take this party elsewhere?"

"Why? Don't you like my apartment? I could make us some tea." Sam glared at Alastair, his eyes deadly.

"Much as I like that offer, Sam," he replied, before kicking Sam across the face, effectively rendering him unconscious. "This is a private party."

***

It didn't take him long to find a suitable warehouse for his dealings, and even shorter for him to set Sam up in a chair and tie him down. He pondered just waiting till the young man woke up naturally to alert Dean, but he decided he wasn't too fond of that idea and found a bucket of water, throwing it on the unconscious Winchester. "Wakey, wakey. Time to get this show on the road, Sammy."

The cold water snapped Sam back from the blessed blackness he had fallen into. He gasped, taking a deep breath, shaking his head to get the water and wet hair out of his eyes. He looked around a moment, still a bit dizzy from the kick he had taken. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth and he spat on the ground to get it out. "Where are we?" he asked in a low growl, his eyes watching Alastair through the wet hair that hung around his face.

"A small little warehouse, not to far from your apartment," Alastair said with a sigh, sitting up on the edge of a table by a phone, before raising an eyebrow to Sam. "Cozy, isn't it?"

"Just needs a fresh coat of paint and some curtain," Sam snapped. "What do you want with me?"

"As I said, Sam," he replied, starting to fiddle with the phone that wasn't connected to anything in particular. This phone would make one call to one person only, and Alastair was going to wait for just the right moment to use it. "You're bait. Just like all the hunters before you. Tamara, Travis, Gina Ranghetti, Roxanne Templand -- sweet little Delilah. Something was taken from me, Sam. I don't like it when people take my things. I will do whatever it takes to make sure I get whatever that is back."

Sam rolled his head back, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice. "Hate to say it, but most hunters don't like me anymore. You're wasting your time."

"Most hunters may not like you, Sam. But your brother certainly loves you."

"My brother's dead, and if he's a demon, his humanity would be gone and he wouldn't give a shit about me."

Alastair made a play of pretending to be shocked, before looking over at Sam. "Didn't you get the memo, Sammy? Your brother's alive."

Sam grit his jaw and shook his head. "Not possible."

"Oh, but it is," Alastair nodded. "About two years ago now, a member of the heavenly host reached down in his infinite mercy, gripped your brother's sorry excuse for a soul tightly and raised him up from perdition, returning him to his body and setting him back to walk the earth and do God's work." Alastair made a face like he was gagging, before rolling his eyes. "Touching, isn't it? Makes me sick."

"I haven't seen him. If he was alive, he would have found me." Sam locked eyes with Alastair. "So stop fucking around with me. What do you want?"

Alastair laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, Sam -- I can't make shit this stupid up. But I suppose I'll prove it to you soon enough. I was just about to make the ransom call." He turned to the phone, and started to dial a number, before setting the phone up so that it was on speaker, and they could hear the sound of the phone ringing. "Because what I want is Dean back. And I'm going to get it whether Heaven likes it or not."

There was a few beats, before a voice answered the phone, clear and crisp through the speakers. "Yeah?"

Sam's eyes just widened. He knew that voice anywhere. But it wasn't possible. He didn't even notice as his breathing sped up. No. No this was just demons fucking with his mind. That was it.

Alastair smirked at the reaction Sam gave, before turning his attention back to his phone. "Hello, Dean. Miss me?"

There was a long pause, and Dean's voice came back through the speakers again, full of venom and contempt. "Like July in Hell. Let me guess. You have someone who wants to speak to me."

"I do actually," Alastair hopped off the table at this point, before starting to make his way closer to Sam. "Why don't you say hello to your big brother, Sammy?"

Sam tilted his head away from the phone. He wasn't going to play along with this. "My name's Sam, and that is not my brother so stop fucking with my head already," he growled through clenched teeth because damnit it sounded too much like his brother that he was going to fall apart and he would NOT give Alastair the satisfaction.

On the other end of the line, Dean's blood ran cold. He heard Sam's voice and he didn't know what to do. Part of him was falling apart because he knew that there was no way that he could save his brother, not like this, while the rest of him was all rage and anger. It was the anger that came to the forefront first, and Dean's voice was low and hushed. There was no mistaking that this was the last straw. "You son of a bitch. I stayed away from him, you had no right -- "

"Oh, don't lecture me about rights, Dean," Alastair replied, rolling his eyes as he looked back at the phone with a wide grin. "There was no agreement in our little game, no contract that I had to follow. I just happened to pick targets you just saw because they were convenient. You had to have known that I'd reel in the big kahuna eventually."

"If you harm one hair on his head, I'll kill you myself, I swear to God."

"Don't bring him into this," Alastair sighed. "And don't go to your pigeon friends for help, either. They won't be able to find him. This is between you and me. And well, Sam."

If these were demons playing with his head, they were doing a damn good job at it. Because everything that came out of "Dean's" mouth was just what Sam knew his brother would say, right down to the inflections on his words and the tones. But he couldn't let himself believe it. Dean wouldn't come back from the dead and not tell him. That wasn't his brother. The thing with the voice on the other end of the phone was not his brother.

Sam just glared at Alastair. Meanwhile he shifted his arm a bit, trying to get the watch to rub against the ropes. Long ago when he first started with CONTROL, Bruce and Lloyd had spent days asking questions about demon fights to develop toys for him. One was about how demons enjoyed tying up their victims in ways that kept hunters from getting hidden weapons. So they have created a metal ring in the watch face that would heat up when rubbed against ropes a certain number of times, and it would help with burning through them to get the arm free.

He could feel the warmth on his wrist from the friction but it was his only way to get a hand free. The coldness of the gun at the small of his back was gone, but his boot sheath was still full and that would be good enough.

"So, we're going to play a little hide and seek. I know exactly where you are. I always do. You have twelve hours to find your brother. When those twelve hours are up -- well, I suppose you'll still have to find him, but he might be in pieces. Depends how I'm feeling. Are we clear?" He paused for a moment, his hand coming down on Sam's wrist, holding it in place for a moment while he looked at Sam's hands.

"You touch him I'll kill you."

"Yes, yes, you said that already," Alastair sighed, before turning and directing a statement towards Sam. "You know, he was so much more creative when he was down in the Pit." He paused again. "Oh, and a couple more ground rules? The lovely Miss Ruby? Not invited. This is a private party. And if you don't get here within six hours -- Sam starts losing fingers for every hour you miss. Ready to play, Deano?"

Sam didn't have much room to wiggle. He couldn't kick out or hit, and with Alastair's hand on his wrist, he couldn't even finish burning the ropes off. He opened his hands, giving Alastair a fake innocent smile while wiggling his fingers, showing that his hands were empty, then promptly flipping him off.

Alastair just laughed at the gesture, a low chuckle in the back of his throat, before turning back to the phone. "Still there, Dean?"

"I'll be there in three." There was a click! as the line disconnected, and Alastair sighed slightly, before letting Sam's hand go, before looking down at his watch.

"So, Sam -- anything you want to know? Any questions I can clear up for you?"

"You really think I believe you." Sam just laughed now. "Ruby's in on this with you, isn't she? That's why she took my gun, so she could start laying the groundwork for you? Stalk me around a bit and learn where I lived." Sam leaned forward, his eyes deadly. "I'm not buying it."

All the while, he shifted his wrist just a bit, back and forth, to work on the ropes more.

Alastair snorted. "I wouldn't work with Ruby if -- " He paused for a minute. "That worthless tramp defected. She's working on Heaven's side now. Apparently they promised her some kind of 'redemption'. Personally I think that just means they're going to axe her as soon as Dean's in fit shape to lead their golden army, but do it nicely."

"A demon working for heaven? Next you'll be telling me Santa's real and the Easter bunny is his pet." He kept his eyes locked on the demon's. Almost there...

"Apparently they really liked the way she helped you get rid of Lilith," Alastair replied. "And really, I don't blame them for outsourcing. They would have no idea what to do to help a human soul cope with two hundred forty years of memories from Hell. That's one thing they just don't understand."

Almost... there. Good. Now a target. He looked up and saw some hooks, but otherwise the space was pretty abandoned. "If they liked what I did to her, wait till they see what I do to you."

The pain in his head was unbelievable as he pushed all he had into his powers. He snapped his arm out of the burnt ropes, throwing his arm up to just toss Alastair up and away from him. So much time away from using them was making the pain horrible, but he didn't have a choice. He needed them now.

Alastair didn't go far but apparently it was enough to knock him back into the table, taking both of them to the ground. He sighed heavily, annoyed, before looking over at him. "What did I tell you, Sam? You quit cold turkey. You can't just expect to jump back into these things again."

Thankfully one of the legs on the chair broke, giving Sam a free leg to fight with. That was better than nothing. He used the leg to kick himself and the chair away from Alastair, smirking and giving him a very dark laugh. "No, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to use what I have."

He brought his free wrist to his bound one, activating the small flame thrower. He freed his other leg, getting to his feet. One quick run into the wall behind him and the chair would splinter apart and he'd be free at least.

Now, Alastair wasn't stupid. He'd heard through the grapevine that the fancy demonic light show some of them wielded didn't work on Sam, and even if it did, it would be counter productive to his purpose anyway. He just paused for a moment, pushing himself up on his elbows slightly, before extending a hand, making a motion like he was grabbing Sam by the collar, before yanking the tall man backwards throwing him over his shoulder and into the far wall behind him.

"Now, now, Sam. Don't make me go back on my word and start cutting off fingers before the six hours are up. While I much enjoy doing it, I don't like breaking my promises."

Hitting the wall and then falling to the ground, Sam lay gasping in a pile of body and broken wood from the chair. His shoulder hurt and his head was foggy, but he still tried to get up. To keep fighting. Because he wasn't going to lay down now. He leaned against the wall, panting for breath and just reached his arm out. He knew it wasn't going to work - Alastair was right: he was soft - but if he was going to go out, then it would go fighting. He gave everything he had, trying to rip the demon soul out of the body in front of him. His fingers splayed open and he could feel the screaming pain in his head, the blood trickle down his nose but he kept pushing, looking for that level he once had.

Alastair pushed himself to his feet, dusting himself off with a slight cough as he felt Sam try to pull him from the body, before rolling his eyes and making a motion, forcing him back against the wall. "You know, I was hoping we could chat before your brother got here, but I guess I'll just have to be less fun that way." And with that, he forced Sam's head back against the wall, aiming to knock him out quickly so he could restrain him again.

Sam would rather Alastair just kill him then. He didn't want to wake up into whatever fucked up reality this demon butcher was planning, but he welcomed the painless black of unconsciousness anyway as his head slumped to the side, his body only still standing because of Alastair's grip on him.

Alastair found another chair and rerestrained Sam to it, this time with hand cuffs as oppose to rope, and left him sitting in the middle of the warehouse again. He got bored as the time past, waiting for Sam to wake up again, but soon he heard the hint of car tires outside the warehouse and a small smile stretched across his face. "Oh, Sam? Time to rise and shine."

Groaning, Sam didn't even bother to raise his head. He just kept it hanging there, his eyes closed as he worked to fight back the wave of nausea that came over him. "Go back to Hell," he growled, his throat raw.

Alastair hadn't exactly gone through much trouble to make himself hard to find. Dean knew that he wouldn't -- the aim of the game wasn't just to take Sam away from him, Alastair wanted Dean to watch as he did it. So he knew that once he made it to DC, he would be able to find the warehouse relatively quickly. His gun was nestled carefully against the small of his back, hidden under the layers of clothing, and he slowly made his way into the warehouse, eyes peeled for anything that might be either his brother or Alastair.

He didn't get far before he spotted Sam sitting in the middle of the warehouse, head angled down towards the ground. He looked pretty beat up, something that made Dean's heart race a little faster, but he seemed to be alone, at least for the time being. He moved slowly, eyes still peeled for any sign of the demon, before speaking up so that his brother could hear him. He wasn't exactly expecting a happy family reunion, but he was hoping that Sam would at least not hate him when this was over.

"Sam?"

Sam flinched at the sound of his name. But he wasn't going to be fooled. No, he wouldn't believe any of this. Let the demons fight their own battles and stop using him as a pawn in this one. He lifted his head and looked pointedly not in the direction the Dean voice had called his name from, but instead where Alastair was. "Your friend's here," he told his captor.

Dean's head dropped slightly, before moving forward, reaching into his pocket for something to pick the locks on the handcuffs with, following Sam's eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the demon. But Alastair was, for all intents and purposes of the moment, gone. But this was just part of the game. Alastair would reveal himself eventually, but now there was just the matter of getting his brother out first. He made his way closer, stepping in front of Sam and just looking him over to make sure he was still mostly alright. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

Sam pulled his head away from Dean's touch and leaned back in his chair. There was no way he could avoid looking at this Dean now because he was forced to see what was right in front of him. And Dean would get a good look at Sam's eyes. How much they had changed in 4 years. The bright laughter and playfulness was gone. Circles and winkles replaced them, the eyes sunken a bit from constant rubbing at tears in the early days. But there was a pureness to them. Pure hatred and anger. At the world, at Alastair, and now fully focused on the thing that dared wear his brother's face and speak in his voice like he was him.

But he wasn't Dean. Couldn't be Dean. Dean was dead.

"Get. Away. From. Me." Sam growled in a deep voice, a warning that if those handcuffs were removed, the thing in front of him was going to be ripped apart just on principle.

Dean didn't exactly look like a walk in the park either. He'd been sleeping, sure, but it hadn't been natural, and he still had the nightmares and memories every time he closed his eyes. When Sam spoke to him like that, he startled, his hands shaking slightly as he took a step back. He knew that kind of anger from his brother, and while he wasn't expecting a Winchester hug, he hadn't been expecting this. His first thought was that Alastair had said something to him, poisoned his brother against him somehow, and for that the rage only continued to rise in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to hurt the son of a bitch who turned him into what he was now. He wanted to hurt him badly.

"Better do what he says, Dean," Alastair's voice came from the other end of the room as he finally started to move into the small patch of light where Sam was. "Your brother is very insistent that way. We wouldn't want him to do something he'd regret now, would we?" He paused for a moment, before tilting his head to the side slightly. "Though it would be very Cain and Abel, wouldn't it? A man killing his own brother?"

Dean tensed for only a moment, before his hand snaked around his back and the gun was out, leveled right at Alastair's chest. "You know, you're getting soft, old man. Three hours with as you put it, the big kahuna, and all he's got are a couple bumps and bruises?" The Dean that cared, the Dean with the heart and the soul was starting to disappear bit by bit, as Dean prepared to end it, once and for all. Instead Dean's head just tilted to the side slightly, a look of mock disappointment. "And here I was expecting a little more blood, sweat and tears."

Sam's eyes went between them both, listening and watching carefully. There was a bit... a tiny bit that saw Dean in the person in front of him. But it wasn't possible and that just hurt that he could see it in a shape shifter... the brother he missed so much. Then the gun was pulled and Sam's jaw grit.

Ruby was involved in this Dean look-alike. Oh he was going to really kill her.

Alastair raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at the gun with interest. "Now, Dean -- what are you going to do with that? Come to battle with a shiny little gun as oppose to Ruby's shiny little knife?"

"Oh, I wouldn't underestimate this gun," Dean smirked. "You remember Harvey, right? The little demon you had scouting me all this time? He doubted this gun too. He's not with us anymore."

Alastair gave a heavy sigh. "Dean. You had so much potential. You would have been the perfect successor to replace me one day."

Something in Dean snapped there, and he forgot Sam for a moment, stepping forward as his voice dropped to a low growl. "I am nothing like you, you sadistic son of a bitch."

Taking his eyes off them, he looked at the handcuffs. Letting his hands fall into his lap, he shifted his hip up and pulled the lock pick out of the lining of his pants pocket. Fake!Dean could block Alastair's view so he could get himself free.

"You're not?" Alastair smirked. "Don't you remember your good friend Abby, Dean? Do you remember how you tore her to shreds over and over -- "

Dean didn't speak before he fired, one shot, straight into the demon's skull. Alastair's eyes flickered for a moment, sparking slightly before he smoked and dropped to the ground, lying in a dead heap on the floor. "Of course I remember," he muttered as he lowered the gun. "I can't seem to forget."

Sam got the last handcuff free and moved quickly, disappearing into the darkness of the warehouse. He found a spot to hide behind a pillar and took a deep breath. He needed to find a weapon because he wasn't going to let this demon wearing his brother's skin go. He had Dean's gun and Sam wasn't leaving until that was back in his hands.

It took Dean a minute to turn around and find his brother gone. He was immediately on edge, his eyes scanning the warehouse, searching for any sign of another demon that he hadn't noticed, or some sign of Sam. He was suddenly feeling very exposed, because this was a threat he hadn't anticipated, and now he was alone. He had his gun, but that wasn't going to do him much good if the demon got to him first. He started to back slowly towards the open door behind him, looking to get back to the car, where he knew that he was safe. "Sam?" he shouted out tentatively, searching for some sign that his brother was alright.

"How dare you." Sam looked around the pillar, seeing "Dean" starting to retreat. Knowing his TK was at least working a bit, he aimed his hand at the door, slamming it shut. "Acting like you're really him - I should cut you down where you stand."

The door closed and Dean turned around eyes wide and scared, before turning back into the dark, searching for some sign of his brother in the darkness. He was scared. He was scared because he was alone and he didn't know how to prove to Sam that it was really him. This was a threat and there was no one there protect him. And he would rather have Sam kill him, mistaking him for a shape shifter, than kill Sam defending himself. "Sam -- Sam, please. It's really me." He shifted slightly, putting the gun away, back at the small of his back so that he didn't accidentally use it on his brother. "I know -- I know this is bad, and this isn't the way I wanted you to find out."

There was laughter from Sam as he slipped from pillar to pillar. He took a moment and knelt down, remembering the small silver dagger in his boot and he pulled it out, hiding it in his hand. "Oh please, like this wasn't all a game. What's the agenda this time? Ruby wants me angry and using my powers again for her, is that it? Or are you just really having a death wish?"

Dean would hear the voice getting closer. Sam was acting just like an injured animal that had been kicked too much and now had an advantage to try and give some back. And he wasn't planning on being gentle.

"No," Dean said shaking his head quickly. "No, no. That's not it. This doesn't have anything to do with Ruby or -- " Powers, what? The visions? Those stopped after Azazel died. Or -- at least that was what he remembered. Dean shook it off and dropped it, before responding again. "Look -- I can get Castiel in here. He can explain everything. Sam -- it's me." His voice was pleading, begging for Sam to understand him, to hear him. Dean had no intention of fighting back. He wasn't going to fight his brother -- he couldn't fight his brother. He wouldn't be able to stop himself and he didn't need the weight of Sam's death on his shoulders. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

The problem was, Sam had no issue in killing the thing in front of him. He was too broken inside to even believe that it was possible. But the fact it had been 4 years... 4 years since he saw his brother die and now he was here? No. That wasn't possible and the mantra kept repeating in his head - it's not Dean it's not Dean it's not Dean.

He kept quiet, holding his breath as he moved towards the demon, the silver knife ready to strike as he approached from behind. Cut the neck quickly and grab the gun and get out. Simple. Easy. He can do this.

Dean didn't like the quiet. The quiet was making him uneasy, and he didn't want to die like this -- not again. He didn't want to go back to Hell. He didn't want to go back on the rack. He didn't want to die in his brother's arms again, and not with it being his brother's fault. He started to crack, his breath catching as he started to panic. It had been too long a day, too emotional, and he wasn't holding anything back, tears starting to slip down his face as he was prepared to beg if he had to. "Sammy, please."

The name slipped from his lips before he even realized he said it, and he didn't even take the time to realize what it meant. He was too scared to worry about anything else, because suddenly the idea of going back was so very real, and he didn't want to go back. He really didn't want to go back. He had a feeling Castiel wouldn't be able to take him out this time.

It was the simple word that stopped Sam, causing his boot to scuffling along the concrete behind Dean. Sammy. He had snarled at Alastair for calling him that. It was only a name Dean used. Was allowed to use. And hearing it in Dean's voice, even if Sam swore it wasn't Dean torn through him hard.

But he pushed it back, swinging his arm up to stab down at the demon before his hesitation lost him the moment.

Dean spun around when he heard the scuff of the boot and caught Sam's arm before it could come down to hard. His fingers tightened around the wrist holding the knife, trying to get him to drop it or something along those lines, before he got stabbed with it. But he was looking at Sam now, really looking and he could see it all. All the anger and the hate that was directed at him. His brother was trying to destroy him. Hunt him like he was some kind of monster they'd grown up chasing. And Sam was right to, because Dean wasn't sure what he was anymore, but he certainly wasn't human. And with the things he'd done -- he was certainly a monster.

He should just let Sam kill him and end it now. He belonged in the Pit. As much as he hated it, he belonged there, with the rest of the demons and the monsters. The fingers around Sam's wrist started to loosen and his head dropped, admitting defeat before the fight even began. He wasn't going to fight his brother. If Sam needed to hunt him, if Sam needed to do this to him, then he would let Sam do it.

"What makes you think you have the right to be in that body?" Sam snarled. "This is my brother you're dishonoring. What gives YOU the right?"

And then Dean would find himself flung against the nearest wall - and Sam never touched him. His free hand, however, was held out as Sam used his TK to hold Dean in place. "Why can't you demons just leave me alone?" His fingers gripped the knife hard. "Haven't you done enough to me, do you really want to keep taunting me until I snap?"

He was ranting now, somewhere between breaking down and ready to lash out and kill everything in sight. The powers came easier each time he used them - like riding a bicycle. He turned his head to look at Dean, all the shields down. Just the broken Winchester in the center of the room, pinning the demon against the wall before he hunted. Before he killed. Like he had so many times before.

Dean didn't understand. These were powers demons had, how was his brother -- his brother wasn't a demon. He wasn't. And Sam wasn't possessed either. Sam wouldn't be mentioning all these things about Dean if he was. It was Sam, using powers he usually attributed to demons, and Dean didn't know why. Was this what he meant when he talked about powers that Ruby wanted him to use? He didn't know but he just stayed where he was, pinned to the wall, and let his head drop, staring at the floor in front of him.

"I'm not going to fight you, Sam. I -- I won't." I can't was the silent answer and he just stayed there, not fighting him and waiting for whatever planned to do with him.

Sam walked closer, leaning in and putting the silver knife under Dean's chin. "You know it's useless. Or did you miss the memo about Lilith? After what I did to her, I'd have thought no one would dare try to come after me again."

Then Sam realized he had cut the demon with the knife a bit, the chin bleeding down the silver. His eyes narrowed a bit, confused. It should hurt; even the slightest scratch should be horrible to a shape shifter or a reven.

Well, it did hurt, but it was a scratch. Dean had had so many over the last few months that were twenty times worse, that he didn't even realize he was bleeding. He just watched Sam, getting confused when Sam was confused, and waiting to see what Sam's next reaction was going to be.

Sam reached behind Dean, grabbing his gun and aiming it at him. He took a few steps back, the gun aimed and very comfortable in his hand. "You're not in pain." Dean would see the blood on the knife in Sam's other hand, and now a bit of fear in his eyes.

Dean saw the blood on the knife and moved his hand slowly, still feeling the pull of the TK against him. He moved his hand to his neck, wincing slightly as his fingers came in contact with the cut, before turning back to him. "Yeah, well," he sighed softly, before reaching for the end of his shirt, and pulling up his shirt, revealing a deep, scarred over slash across his side. "When you've recovered from something like that, this feels like a paper cut."

None of Dean's old scars. Nothing from the Hell Hounds that should have ripped his body to shreds. Nothing was making sense and the adrenaline was starting to fade and Sam brought the heel of his knife hand to his eye, rubbing it. "What are you?"

Dean snorted slightly, before dropping his head to look down at the ground for a minute. "They tell me I'm human, and so far, they seem to be right, but -- who knows? Angels tend to tell you just what they need to sometimes."

"Angels?" Sam scoffed. "Angels don't exist."

"Yeah, I would have told ya the same thing," he said softly. "But they do. They're dicks, and they only show up when they need you to do something for them but they're real. And they saved me from the Pit."

"Dean's been dead four years. I doubt God would wait this long." His thumb cocked back the hammer.

"He didn't. He waited two. Two was bad enough." Dean didn't even want to think about what he would be like if he had four hundred eighty years of Hell to deal with. Not even Ruby would be able to put him back together on this one. He also didn't blink at the hammer being cocked back either. If Sam was going to shoot him, he was going to shoot him. Nothing he could try and do was going to change that.

"Dean wouldn't be alive for two years and not come find me." That much was certain, and he knew it in his heart. That was his brother. When they were hurting, they bonded together. Dean wouldn't let Sam continue to think he was dead. Dean wouldn't try to move on without Sam. No.

"For the first year, I barely even knew who I was," Dean said with a sigh. "I was trying to fit all the pieces back together. I didn't even remember who you were until six months in." Which hurt to say, more than he'd care to admit, but without the person right in front of his face, he wasn't exactly recalling them. "It was about another six months before I managed to track you down in DC." He swallowed slightly, looking away from Sam, more in shame than anything else. "Every where I went, there were demons trying to kill me again, Sam. The last time I went and got you to pull you back on the hunt, you lost everything. You were happy. I didn't -- I didn't want to do it to you again."

"Happy? Do I look happy to you, Dean?" Yes, it's the first time Sam's acknowledged that Dean was Dean. But he said his brother's name with so much malice that it wasn't really a good thing. "You have no idea what I've gone through after you died. What I've had to do. What I DID in order to try and save you. And you think that not knowing my brother is alive was something I wouldn't want to know? And instead you send Ruby to attack me for your gun and leave the door wide open for demons to come after me because of you?"

Sam's jaw grit. He was pissed. It was easier when this hadn't been Dean. But now Sam could see his brother - his real brother - and it was a slap in the face.

"Hey, hey, hold on -- first of all? I didn't know about Ruby and the gun until tonight. There's a lot of things that Ruby does that she doesn't tell me about. So that was her screw up, not mine." He paused for a minute, looking Sam in his eye as he spoke. "And I'm sorry, Sam. But as far as I was concerned, I was probably going to wind up dead again before I even got the chance to see you. Or I'd get you killed while the angels saved my sorry ass again, and I couldn't live with that. I got enough guilt on my conscience already -- I wasn't going to add you to the mix as well."

He paused for a moment, starting to get pissed again, as he started to move towards Sam, not really caring that the gun was still pointed in his direction, or that Sam was probably going to shoot him for what he had to say. "So I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry I fucked things up, as per usual. I'm sorry I didn't shove my sorry ass back into your life again. I'm sorry that I thought of myself for once as oppose to you. I'm sorry for whatever manner of stupid I caused. But I did what I thought I had to do. And if I had to, I'd do it again, because I'm not going to be the reason why you get killed."

"No. You just left me alone to become a monster."

Sam dropped the knife as his fist flew, smashing into Dean's jaw as hard as he could.

Dean took the punch, stumbling back slightly, and spitting the blood to the ground. He then looked up at his brother, sincerity in his eyes before speaking. "You're not a monster, Sam. Not even close." Dean knew what a real monster was, and Sam -- he didn't have it in him.

"You don't know what I've gone through!" Sam aimed another punch at Dean. "You were so damn selfish, leaving me alone here to fight this war. And you can't even risk telling me you're alive?" The gun fell from his hand as he pressed Dean against the wall, hands going to choke Dean. So much inside of Sam was breaking, showing just how unstable he was. "If you think that, then you're not my brother. You may think you're him, but my brother wouldn't hurt me, not like this. Not with what I've had to live with every day for the last four years. No, my brother Dean's dead to me, and there's nothing you can do to ever let me forgive you for that. You should have just stayed in Hell, and if I ever see you again, I will send you back myself."

Sam was crying as he was nearly screaming at Dean, then he pulled away and went to pick up his gun. The broken soldier who was really running low on fuel and was close to collapsing.

Dean wanted to go to him. He wanted to help him. But there was nothing Dean could do, and he knew that. Instead he just closed his eyes, letting Sam take the gun before sliding his hands into his pockets. "Don't worry, Sam. You won't see me again." With that he turned and started to head out towards the door again, walking away from Sam. Because as far as Dean was concerned, Sam was right. The Dean Sam knew died a long time ago, and this Dean should have stayed in Hell. As much as he didn't want to go back.

Sam got maybe five more steps before his injuries and exhaustion caught up with him. He just managed to hit the button on his watch that would send a retrieval team to find him when he suddenly got dizzy and stumbled over the remains of one of the chairs he had broken, cracking his head on the ground. He lay still a moment, then groaned, barely conscious.

Dean snapped around at the sound, making his way over to him and placing a hand gently on his shoulders. "Sam?"

"Just leave me alone..." Sam's broken sobs came as the adrenaline draining away led to him breaking down. His nose was bleeding again from the strain and the fall.

Dean ignored him, shifting so that he could take his brother's weight, pulling Sam's arm over his shoulder and getting him to his feet. "C'mon. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"I said leave me alone!" Sam tried to push away, but it was a feeble attempt.

Dean sighed slightly, continuing to haul his brother out of the warehouse. "Relax. I'll drop you off, and then you'll never have to see me again." The car wasn't far from the front of the warehouse, an old Sedan that Ruby had lifted from a motel not too far from where they were staying.

Sam tried to fight, but he wasn't seeing right now and was in the passenger seat before he could voice a complaint. Once the car was moving, the vibrations finished the work his brain had started and he slipped into unconsciousness against the door, looking very young, hurt and scared as he slept.

Dean probably broke most of the speed limits as he hauled Sam to the hospital, and did his best not to wake him up as he hauled him into the emergency room. The doctors swarmed them right away looking to take Sam off his hands. One of the male nurses started to wrap an arm around Sam, and Dean moved his hand down slowly, reaching for the small of Sam's back and pulling out the gun, quickly slipping it back behind him again. As soon as he knew that Sam was in good hands, he slipped out the back door again, disappearing into the night almost as though he was never there.

He needed to track down Ruby. They had some serious talking to do.