rivers_bend

Title: Battleground
Words: 8,500
Rating: Adult (sex, violence)
Show/Genre: Supernatural/Wincest
Characters: Hell, the gang's all here
Spoilers: General for show's arc, but I'm gonna get Jossed, I'm sure. And that part where you say I'm Jossed already? Just remember. Demons lie. *g*
Disclaimer: Our porn makes more people watch your show.
A/N: See end

Part of powerverse. THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE! Previous parts:

1 Kinesis
2 Jade
3 Second Hand
4 Magnify
an adjunct fic 5 Times Dean got Fucked with his Boots On

The most recent chapter:
5 Legend

Summary: Dean's year comes to an end.




Previously in Powerverse: From his vantage point in the yard, Dean watched Ruby argue with Bobby on the porch while Sam played peacemaker. After a few minutes, Bobby went in and dragged two kitchen chairs out to join the rocker that had lived on the porch for as long as Dean could remember. Ruby was a lot of things, most of which Dean had no respect for, but she wasn't stupid. Dean wouldn't go in Bobby's house either if he were her. And the less he thought about that, the better.

It turned out he couldn't watch the three of them, heads huddled over the book, discussing his fate like he wasn't standing fifty yards away. Like he was some kind of interesting puzzle. He made his way to the far side of the pile, pulled on a pair of work gloves, and started picking through the scrap.

And now


Ruby can't go back to hell. She won't. But she still knows people in low places. People willing to negotiate the cracks and chinks, willing to commute. Willing to bring her information. A common misconception about hell, that all demons are out for themselves. Hierarchy may be the most common and steadfast reason for loyalties, but even amongst the lowest ranks, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. And, even in the pit, friendship garners favors.

It didn't do to count on friendships lasting, of course, but Dean hadn't been the only one to think that crossroads demon of his was a bitch, so Ruby had had plenty of enemies to choose from when she needed a friend. One of them was happy to do a little research in exchange for a sword that Ruby could get her hands on. She was expecting only news about who held Dean's contract, so the stone coin was a surprise. Unfortunately, when the demon gave her the piece of jade, he was a lot longer on reassurances that it would help than on information about how. If anyone could figure it out though, it was Sam.

Apparently, with the help of Bobby Singer and his lady friend. When Ruby saw the page of sketched coins, it tickled something in her memory. She'd seen one of those discs somewhere before…

She listened as Bobby told Sam about the brothers and about the 'beasts' who stole the coins and all their other belongings. Then she had it. She'd seen the disc around the neck of the demon who'd come to take her soul.

"They were probably messenger demons," she interjected. When Bobby and Sam looked at her, she went on, "They're like the concierges of the upper echelon."

"What did the upper echelons of hell want with a bunch of stone coins?" Sam sounded skeptical.

"When did these brothers make their trip?" she asked.

"Fourteen hundreds some time, I think," Bobby said.

"I don't think they wanted them, I think they wanted them back."

Sam looked at the sketches for a moment and then gave her a hard stare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean they belonged to the Demons to begin with. I doubt whatever those boys stole them from was a dragon."

"They stole them from a demon? In China?" Bobby sounded like demons in China were beyond the realm of possibility.

"Not just a North American phenomenon, demons, you know."

"That's not what I meant. I have a friend who's spent a lot of time in China. Might be a good idea to give him a call."

"What makes you think the demons were taking them back?" Sam asked.

"I've seen them before. I didn't recognize it at first, it's been a few—well a long time, but those stones are—"

"Fuck!" Dean's voice, from across the junkyard.

"Dean?" Sam jumped up and was down the steps in a flash.

"I'm okay," Dean called, walking out from behind the pile of scrap metal. "Just cut myself."

Ruby watched as Sam pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Dean's forearm. She could almost feel the heat of Sam's eyes on his brother and had to look away, turning her gaze instead to the smooth, unscarred skin on the inside of her own wrist. This girl she was walking around in was ridiculously unblemished. She must have hardly lived before Ruby took up residence.

"Those stones are what?" Bobby said to her, once he'd made sure Sam didn't need help with Dean.

"I think Sam's gonna want to hear this too," Ruby replied.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn't the first time Sam'd had cause to wonder if Dean was willing to bleed for some attention, but it was the first time in years. Last time, they were in a cow pasture somewhere outside Muncie, Indiana, John was teaching Sam how to shoot, and Dean managed to tangle with a piece of barbed wire. This time it was his arm, not his leg oozing blood in thick trails.

"Christ, Dean, how'd you do this?" The gash ran about three inches in a straight line down the inside of Dean's forearm and ended in a deeper jagged hook to the left. "You wanted that coffee break, you only had to ask."

"Funny." Dean scowled at the blood dripping off his wrist bone. "I was reaching for something and the stack slipped, came down on my arm."

Sam wanted to get it cleaned up, get indoors where he could press a kiss to the inside of Dean's elbow without Bobby or Ruby being there to see. But he also wanted Ruby to finish what she'd been saying. After one last look at the wound, he wrapped his shirt around it and said, "Keep pressure on this. We'll go inside and deal with it."

"First aid kit's in the kitchen," Bobby said when they got back to the porch. "And Dean, you're gonna have to just shut your ears or something if you don't want to be a part of this, cos your brother and I need to hear what Ruby's saying 'bout that disc thing."

When Dean only nodded, didn't have some excuse or sarcastic comeback, that's when Sam wondered if the cut was worse than he thought.

Still adamant about not coming in, Ruby stayed put on the porch, so Sam resigned himself to waiting until they had Dean cleaned up before he heard the rest of her information. The light was better for stitching outside anyway. He washed his hands while Bobby argued with Dean about a tetanus shot.

Dean tried to say he'd just had one: "That hunt in Tuskegee, Sam, come on. You remember."

"Yeah, Dean, I do. That was my senior year. In high school. You're getting a shot."

"I'll call Anton," Bobby said. "He owes me one. That'll save you a trip to the hospital."

After a dousing in the sink and three or four more splashes with peroxide than Dean was happy with, Sam pronounced his arm ready for stitches and they reconvened on the porch. Ruby looked fit to burst with pleasure at their anticipation and strung it out as long as possible. It wasn't til Dean said, "Talk, bitch, or I will find that knife of yours and gut you like a deer," that she finally gave in.

Expecting a long story after all the buildup, Sam found her words anti-climactic. "The coins are like contracts. Receipts, maybe."

"Receipts for what?" Bobby asked when Ruby didn't seem inclined to continue. He flicked a glance to Sam, who'd paused over the stitches he was putting in Dean's arm, but quickly returned his hard gaze to Ruby's face.

"Souls."

And that certainly made Sam change his mind about the whole anti-climax thing.

"What?" Sam and Dean spoke in unison, over Bobby who pulled the piece of stone out of his pocket, and said, "So this here coin is the marker for Dean's soul? Whoever holds this, holds the contract?"

"I don’t know," Ruby said.

No amount of cajoling or number of threats could make her tell them anything else. "I'm trying to be straight with you," she said. "I don't know."

When Sam finished stitching Dean's arm, Dean shoved his chair back and headed for the door. "Don't listen to anything this bitch says. She's just stringing you along. That thing's just a trinket." He turned to Bobby. "Maybe you should give it to your friend, sell it on ebay. I'd say let Bela sell it, but we'd never see the cash."

Sam couldn't bear the lost tone under Dean's anger. He'd let himself get his hopes up, and now he was crushing them back down. When Sam stood to follow his brother into the house, Dean turned on him.

"Don't, Sam," he said. "Just, don't." He shut the door behind him with a thunk.

Bobby handed Sam the piece of jade. "You'd better keep this close," he said. "In case Ruby's right."

When Sam turned around to ask her one more time if she didn't know anything else that might help them, Ruby was gone.




Sam didn't like having an object mean so much to him. Things, in his experience, were useful but mostly temporary. People were important. But despite Dean's heated denial and Bobby's gentle words of caution, Sam believed the strangely warm stone disc was the key to keeping Dean out of hell, and he was willing to protect it with his life. He carried it around in his pocket for three days before he decided that wasn't safe and asked Bobby for something to make a bag to hang around his neck.

Dean had hardly spoken a civil word since Ruby'd left, spending hours out in the yard taking things apart and putting others back together. There'd been no touching, no kissing, just Dean curled small in his bed each night, facing the wall, shoulders hunched against any attempt at conversation. Sam didn't know whether to just let him have his space or crowd in and hold him until he gave up brooding.

Sunday morning Sam was sitting at the kitchen table punching holes in a thin piece of leather so he could turn it into a pouch, when Bobby came down in a suit, hair combed, no sign of a hat.

"Mornin'," he said, nervously straightening his tie when Sam just stared. "Have an errand to run. Be back in a couple hours."

"Errand wouldn't happen to be church, would it?" Sam just about kept his smirk to himself.

"I'll make you a copy of those sketches, but we've practically worn through the pastor's book with looking, and it's not telling us anything new, so I thought I'd best get it back to her."

"You staying for the sermon?"

"I'll be back after lunch. See if you can't slap some sense into that brother of yours while I'm gone, will you?"

Sam looked sharply at Bobby, wondering for a second if he knew, but there didn't seem to be anything under his words.

"See you boys later." Bobby nodded and squeezed Sam's shoulder before heading out to his car.

Dean came downstairs before the sound of the engine had faded. "We've got to go," he said on his way past Sam to the coffee pot.

"Go? Go where?"

"Michigan, for starters."

"What's in Michigan?" Sam tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but Dean was doing his best impression of Dad, and after the silent treatment he'd been giving Sam for three days, it was difficult.

"Could be werewolves."

"Werewolves? Dean, I don't know if you've noticed, but there're fifty-two days left to figure out what we're doing with this thing. Someone else can deal with the werewolves."

"What are you going to figure out, Sam? What? Where are you going to look? Either Ruby's right or she's not. I can't just sit around here waiting. We're hunters! We can't just give up on that."

"Dean—"

"No! It's not all about me, Sam. Fifty-two days. I can be saving people! We can be saving people." Dean had his back to the counter, lips in a thin line, knuckles white around his mug.

"It is…" Sam started, but he couldn't finish. It is all about you, Dean. It's always been about you.

"Pack your stuff, or I'm leaving without you." Taking his coffee with him, Dean went back upstairs.

Sam finished the bag, put the best hope he had of saving Dean's life inside, and tied it around his neck. It sat against his sternum, warm even through the leather, and he knew, knew, that it was going to keep Dean by his side.

Footsteps down the stairs, and then Dean crossing the yard, putting his duffle in the Impala's trunk. As he came back inside, he stuck his head into the kitchen. "Five minutes, Sam."

"No," Sam said.

"What?" Dean was every inch Don't fuck with me, boy, but Sam wasn't backing down.

"No. I'll come with you, and we can even leave today, but we're not leaving ‘til Bobby gets back." And not before I've fucked the hunch out of your shoulders.

"I swear I'll leave you here."

"You won't." Dean had left the door open behind him, and Sam swept it shut with a thought before turning on Dean and dragging him forward until he hit Sam's chest. "We've got two hours before Bobby's back and I plan to use every minute."

"Fuck you, Sam." Dean was trying to push away, but Sam looped his arms around Dean's waist and backed up the mental hold with a physical one.

"There's an idea. I'll definitely consider it. Might be I'd rather fuck you though."

"I'm serious, let me go."

Sam dropped the kinetic hold, but kept an arm around Dean's back, moving a hand up to cup the curve of Dean's skull. "Kiss me," he said.

"Sam."

"Kiss me." Sam let his need bleed through the frustration of days spent not doing this. "Kiss me."

And then Dean started struggling again, but this time to get closer. Pushing his arms up through the cage of their chests to bury his fingers in Sam's hair, tugging at him, and rocking his hips forward into the hollow of Sam's pelvis. "You can't just take a fucking order, can you?" Dean said, before he forced his tongue past whatever answer Sam had on his lips.

It felt like three months since Sam had pushed his way into Dean's shower, not three days, and he wanted inside Dean's clothes now. Inside Dean's skin. "Upstairs?" he said.

"Fuck that," Dean said, and started clawing at Sam's buttons, pushing under his t-shirt, kicking at his own boots.

"I'm not—" Sam said, "I can't—Dean, this is Bobby's kitchen."

"Library," Dean said, and pushed Sam backwards through the door.

Somehow they landed on the one piece of floor clear of books, papers and equipment, Dean on top. "Clothes off. Now," he growled, giving Sam just enough room to get his hands in and manipulate the fastenings of his jeans. Sam never thought to argue or roll them over, just did as he was told.

Dean's years of quickies paid off in his ability to be out of his clothes and sliding miles of naked skin against Sam by the time Sam was kicking his boxers from around his left ankle. Dean shoved and pushed and used his palms and knees and thighs to spread Sam out beneath him, hands fisted together above Sam's head, cocks sticking in the sweat between their bellies.

"I'm gonna fuck you til you can't sit down and then drive you down every dirt road between here and the state line, make sure you remember I've been here."

As if Sam could ever forget. He spread his legs, hooking one around Dean's hips and said, "Do it."

"That you begging, or is that an order? Cos take a look and see who's on top here."

"Please, Dean. Please. God. Just fuck me." Sam had no pride left anymore when it came to giving Dean what he needed.

"That's what I thought." Dean reached up and grabbed for something on the edge of Bobby's desk. It looked like…

"Dean, you are not fucking me with holy oil. That's—"

"I'mma fuck you with whatever I want, Sammy." Dean knelt between Sam's spread thighs and pushed two greased fingers into Sam's ass. "Besides, a little blessed olive oil isn't gonna kill you."

Sam might have smiled at Dean's slip into protective older brother mode, but he was busy with the burn splitting him in half. Dean's eyes narrowed and he poured more oil on his hand, slowing the twist and stretch until it was just slick-full friction. "Such a tight-ass," Dean murmured, failing completely to make it sound like a complaint.

Sam just hmmm'd a sigh and pushed back at the now maddeningly gentle slip of Dean's fingers, which earned him the heat of Dean's torso against his ribs as his brother leaned in and kissed him. They rocked and hummed and made out like horny teenagers—the gay kind, determined to get to home plate before the morning was out. Wet-sloppy kisses, Sam's hands trying to be everywhere on Dean at once, Dean growling and biting like a puppy, and all the while driving Sam crazy with the fingers in his ass.

When Sam felt like he was going to burst into flame with the friction, he said, "Please, fuck me, Dean, need you." And he did, but he knew Dean needed Sam to say it too, and Sam could never deny him. So he begged. Begged again, fast and dirty, while Dean slicked his dick with oil, and did nothing to cover the moan he made when Dean lifted Sam's legs and filled him.

The floor was rough, and Sam could not have cared less as Dean thrust into him hard and fast, shoving Sam's spine against the wood, biting his chest and neck, stretching him wide, making him ache. Making him feel alive.

Dean's amulet bumped against Sam's new leather one, and Sam felt it again, that rush of surety that this was the answer. That they were going to save Dean. And then Dean was gripping Sam's dick, jerking it, rough and uncoordinated, and it was hard to think about anything anymore except how he was gonna come, right the fuck now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Folding his hands in his lap, Bobby settled in a pew at the back of the church and thought about how it had been more than a decade since he'd sat through a sermon. Possibly quite a bit more. Amanda was easier on the ear (and on the eye) than the old man in Park Hall, Virginia, who'd promised redemption and a life free of pain, but it had still taken more than a minute to get past the memories sparked by the trappings and settle in.

Bobby'd come along to be polite, but once he stopped looking around as if someone was going to point him out as a fake, he found himself getting caught up in Amanda's tale of Boggarts and Dementors and how often evil can be fought best with laughter and love. He wasn't about to throw over his rock salt and holy water, but it did make him think about Dean and Sam, and reflect on how love was a pretty powerful force. Not that it never caused harm. Love had saved Sam, but now here Dean was, staring down the barrel of a gun, and nearly destroying the brother he'd meant to save. And Sam's love for Dean was gonna be what saved him, if anything could, but it was what was destroying Sam on the way there.

Bobby hadn't wanted anything so bad in as long as he could remember as he wanted to just wave a magic wand and fix this whole goddamned mess. That Harry Potter was a lucky kid, no question.

Amanda stood at the door between the sanctuary and the narthex, shaking hands with her parishioners after the service. When she saw Bobby, her eyes brightened and a softness edged her smile. "Didn't expect to see you here," she said, as they shook hands.

"Told you I'd bring that book back."

"So you did."

"I just wanted to make a copy of that page of sketches, if you don't mind."

"Of course. I happen to be free for lunch today. If there's no place you have to be?"

She didn't quite meet his eyes as she asked, and Bobby wondered if it was the suit that made Amanda bashful about asking him to lunch. "I'd like that," he said.

They ate at the diner, meatloaf and boiled potatoes, and talked about winter in South Dakota compared to winter in Virginia (where Amanda lived for two years in high school), Viet Nam (where Bobby had learned to shoot and her older brother had been a machine gunner), and classic cars. He enjoyed the company, but was tugging at his tie by the time they were done, feeling ridiculous in the getup.

"I hope the fact that you brought my book back doesn't mean I can't come out and see you sometime," Amanda said as they parted ways.

When Bobby got home, the Impala's trunk was open and though that could have just meant Dean was cleaning the guns or refilling the kerosene cans, he knew the boys were leaving. Part of him wished they'd stay, but he knew Dean would never stand for it, even if Sam might. Dean couldn't just sit waiting. Never had been able to.

Bobby couldn't even talk them into staying for supper, though they did wait long enough for him to change, so he at least looked like himself when he said goodbye. He tucked the photocopy of the sketches in Sam's pocket when he hugged him and then turned to Dean.

"You call me, you hear, boy?" Bobby had his hand on Dean's face, forcing him to look into Bobby's eyes. "I will hunt you down myself if you don't."

Dean didn't say anything at all, though he didn't flinch from Bobby's gaze, and it was Sam who replied, "Sure, Bobby. We'll keep in touch."

The jar of jam that he threw dropped as the Impala's dust settled in the driveway was totally an accident.


True to their word, the boys did call. Kentucky, Arkansas, Colorado, Montana, Dean sounding cocky, Sam sounding scared, both of them sounding distracted. Days flipped past like the waterfall of cards in the hands of a professional dealer.

Ken, Bobby's friend from China, finally called back when there were nineteen days to go. "I found something out about those legends you wanted me to look into," he said.

Then Ken's voice took on his lecturing tone: "Before the first Dynasty, a man came travelling from the West, carrying stone tablets on which were recorded the deeds of all the men from his land. Their fates rested in the tablets, and he brought them East for safe-keeping. But he was careless with the stones, and they fell into the hands of an exiled god. No matter their deeds, all those whose stones were held by that god had to serve him for eternity."

There was a sound of pages turning and then, "There's more here about how the stones came from all four corners of the earth, do you want me to read that?"

"I don't think so," Bobby answered absently. Ken's story seemed to confirm what Ruby'd said. He needed to talk to Sam.

Ever vigilant to tone even across six states, Ken let him go after extracting the promise that Bobby would call again if he needed more help.

Sam didn't answer his phone for two days.

"Damnit, Sam," Bobby said when his caller ID finally gave him good news. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I'd say you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but the truth is, you're just about the only one who would." Sam sounded tired. "Your messages said you had something important. What's up?"

"You've kept that jade safe, I hope?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Talked to my friend. It sounds like Ruby was right. If that stone is related to Dean somehow, and I'm not sure how we'd figure that out, whoever holds the stone is Dean's master for eternity."

There was silence from Sam's end for a minute and then, "What do you think would happen if I destroyed it?"

No way was Bobby taking responsibility for that. "I have no idea."

"Well," and Sam sounded strained some way Bobby couldn't put his finger on, "better me than some demon, right?" Something Bobby didn't catch and then, "… master."

"Sam? You alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby hesitated, not sure what answer he wanted to his next question. When Sam made as if to hang up though, he went ahead and asked, "You boys thought about where you're gonna go? You could come—"

Sam interrupted. "We're not putting you and your place at risk." Bobby heard a catch in his breath. "And I couldn't—If anything happened, I'd want…"

"I get it, Sam. It's okay." And Bobby was relieved to hear that if something happened, Sam was even thinking about having someplace to come home to that wouldn't have bad memories of Dean. Relieved that his only thought wasn't to just follow his brother down to Hell.

Still, one by one, the days ticked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were eleven days left when Dean finally gave in to Sam's demands that they stop. Stop hunting, stop running, stop pretending that time was on their side. Sam was still full of reassurances that he was going to save Dean, that this was just something they had to do and get to the other side of, but he obviously wasn't going to treat it like no big deal.

"Where do you want to go?" Sam said.

Dean remembered a cabin out in the Nevada desert where he and Dad had stayed one spring while John recovered from a fractured foot and Sam sat oblivious in a classroom out in California. It was an old hunter's place, a rambling ranch-house style thing, runes and sigils carved right into the wood. Dean remembered it as pretty comfortable and well-equipped, but its biggest selling feature was that it stood 100 miles from anyone or anything, so if they brought a battle down on their heads, there was less chance of anyone innocent getting caught in the crossfire.

"Nevada," he answered. "But we're going to have to go shopping on the way."

By the time they pulled up to the covered carport at the side of the house, his poor baby was practically groaning under the weight of food and water, salt and paint that they'd picked up en route.

"How'd you know about this place?" Sam was looking around with interest.

"You can learn lots of things even if you don't go to college."

"Right," Sam said, lips in a tight line.

Dean felt a twinge of guilt; he didn’t want to fight with Sam, especially not now, but he wasn't going to start apologizing for that kind of shit this late in the game. "Hey," he said instead. "No bitch-face. There's three beds in that house and you're going to fuck me in every one."

Sam failed spectacularly to maintain his sulk, though he did manage to sound at least a little sullen when he said, "We'd better unpack this car first."

"That's what I said. Fucking's your reward for unpacking. Power up, kinetic boy."

Sam glared, but he'd been using his powers more and more over the last six weeks, deflecting a dining room table a poltergeist had flung at Dean's head, holding a pack of pixies while Dean dispatched them, keeping two kids from falling into a basement when a flight of stairs collapsed, and generally getting both stronger and more precise. He should have no problem carting a few bags of groceries inside.

"Don't give me that look." Dean grinned. "I'll help you out. You get the food, I'll get the weapons."

"I'm not wasting my strength lifting groceries. Not if there're three beds to christen."

So they got stuff inside the old-fashioned way. Sam didn't bother poking around the large main room that had the kitchen along one wall, just started unpacking food. Opposite the kitchen area was a short hall leading to three small bedrooms and a bathroom. Everything—walls, floor, ceiling—was unpainted wood, and the windows were small, the better to keep out nasties, so the place was pretty dark, even at mid-afternoon.

"There're solar panels," Dean said, "but people usually turn off the power when they leave. I'll go check the fusebox."

"Good," Sam said. "Cos I'm starving, and you're gonna need a hearty lunch for what I have in mind."

Dean flipped the breakers and they got the rest of the supplies inside. Sam made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup while Dean laid salt lines. They ate, shooting heated looks across the table but keeping their hands to themselves. Dean might as well have been eating cardboard for all he tasted his food.

Dean pulled Sam into the smallest bedroom first. Sam didn't even pause to look out the window or examine the runes over the headboard, just pushed Dean backwards and followed him down onto the single bed where he tipped them on their sides and used one huge hand to jerk them together. Dean wasn't exactly counting, but it couldn't have been more than six or seven minutes before Sam was nudging him out of bed and saying, "Where to next?"

The second bedroom had a double bed, and Sam stripped off Dean's clothes as well as his own before spreading out on top of it. Though they started out slow and lazy, they ended up with Sam collapsing, exhausted, on top of a fucked-out Dean, and were both asleep before they could even think about moving to the final bed. Sam made up for it in the morning though, picking Dean up and carrying him into the third bedroom, dropping him on the mattress and sucking him so hot and quick that Dean never even had time to ask him what he thought he was doing carrying Dean around like a child.

"There a shower in this place?" Sam asked, when he'd wiped the trail of Dean's come off his chin with the back of one hand.

"There's a well. We should probably conserve water." Dean sat up enough to see that Sam was busy wiping his own jizz off his other hand onto his stomach.

"You wash my back, I'll wash yours," Sam said.

"Doesn't look like it's your back that needs washing."

Sam just licked his palm and then held it out as though Dean might need help standing.

After breakfast they got out the paint and the books of symbols and got to work supplementing the ones already carved into the walls. Their efforts weren't going to earn them an episode on Changing Rooms, but nothing was going to get in without a serious struggle. The whole time he was painting, Dean said to himself, I'm protecting Sammy. Not trying to get out of my deal. Just protecting Sammy. Sam didn't drop dead, so he must have convinced someone.

Bobby called when there were four days left. Sam went into one of the bedrooms and mumbled to him for half an hour, looking resigned and worried when he finally came back. "He's on his way. I couldn't—" Sam came over and wrapped his arms around Dean, resting his face against Dean's neck. "Couldn't exactly tell him why I didn't want him to come yet."

Dean loved Bobby, and he wanted his help, but this was not a case of sooner being better than later.

"They're stopping in Elko tonight. They'll pick up some more food and stuff."

"They?"

"Ellen's with him."

"Ellen?" Dean was starting to wonder what the point of coming to the middle of nowhere was if the whole world wanted to show up to watch him die.

"Don't look like that, Dean. If we were planning on letting you go, we might let you slink off alone somewhere to do it. But we're not. So you can just suck it up and be grateful for all the help we can get."

"What if—" but the set of Sam's jaw said he wasn't going to listen to anything except how they were going to hold off the hounds and defeat the demon.

Sam hooked a finger in Dean's waistband and pulled. "What if we take advantage of the fact that we're alone until tomorrow afternoon?"

If Sam's smile was a little watery around the edges, Dean decided not to comment.

"Besides," Sam said forty minutes later, as though they'd never been interrupted, "if there's two of them coming, you and I will have to share a bed."

Dean had to concede that was something.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the ten months since Ellen had seen the Winchester boys, Sam had aged about five years, and Dean hadn't aged five minutes. If she didn't know better, she'd pick the wrong one as older brother nine times out of ten.

"Ellen!" Sam said when she got out of the car, jumping down the front steps to catch her up in a hug that surprised the hell out of her.

Dean submitted to Bobby's grip of his arm and then greeted Ellen more circumspectly than his brother had. His half smile reminded Ellen of the way she'd caught him looking at Jo once or twice, and she nearly stumbled with the force of missing her daughter.

"So, boys, what's the plan?" Bobby said, as he hoisted his duffle.

"No plan," Dean said, and shoving a hand through his hair, walked over to his car and popped the hood.

Sam jerked his chin towards the front door. "C'mon inside."

Ellen grabbed her own bag before Bobby could pick it up for her, and they followed Sam.

In the car on the way down, Bobby had explained what they knew about Dean's deal, a jade token that might hold Dean's soul somehow and the possible help they were getting from a demon. Sam showed them both the preparations he'd made in the house. Ellen recognized the Devil's Traps and a few other symbols, though she didn't know what they were for, but most of the carvings and paintings were unfamiliar.

"This is…" she wasn't sure what word to use. "Elaborate."

While Sam was explaining which symbols were for power, which for protection, Ellen heard the rumble of the Impala's engine. She looked out the window in time to see the car shoot past, headed farther up the road they'd come in on. She was surprised Sam never paused in his recitation, though it was clear he'd seen his brother leave.

"Did you bring the book?" Sam asked Bobby.

"Course."

"I'll need you and Ellen to be in charge of the Latin."

Ellen felt herself nodding even though she was a hell of a lot better with logic, beer, and shotguns than languages. By turning her head just a little, she could see the plume of Dean's dust moving into the distance. Kid always had been unnaturally attached to that car.

But then she thought about her Roadhouse. And how if she'd known what was gonna happen, she might have chosen to spend some time with it before it was destroyed. Not instead of time with Jo, or even Ash, but that place was a part of her, same way Dean's car was for him. Not to mention that a boy like Dean wouldn't stand for sitting twiddling his thumbs while they worked, and would never risk his brother by working with them. Ellen'd seen a lot of hunters come and go over the years, and she tried not to get attached, but there was something about these boys that just broke her heart, always had.

"Ellen?" Bobby asked.

"Sorry." They were both looking at her, obviously expecting an answer to something.

"Do you want to practice the exorcism while Sam makes some dinner?"

"Yeah. Sure."


Dean came back after sunset, headlights cutting through the night under a sky so blue it was almost black, and despite their brightness, hardly able to compete with the stars. He was just in time to help Ellen carry the last load of things from the car, though he didn't say anything, just held out a hand for a bag.

"I'mma wash up," he said to Sam who was putting dinner on the table. Dean went into the third bedroom and closed the door.

Sam handed Ellen the garlic bread and followed him.

After five minutes and then another five, Bobby and Ellen gave up waiting for them to come back and started eating without them. When they did come out a few minutes later, Dean was smiling and chatting about the rock formations to the north, and it was now Sam who sat in silence.

Ellen was facing the kitchen clock which hung over Dean's head. She wished he had chosen another seat.

Twenty-seven hours to go.


When the time came, Ellen had the words down cold. All that Latin gave her an itchy trigger finger though, and knowing the three men were safely behind her, Ellen shot the first moving thing she saw.

"Great," her victim said, looking down at the hole in her shoulder. "Good thing that crazy bitch stole the Colt, or this one might have killed me."

"Ruby," Dean said from his chair in the middle of the protective circle. "So nice of you to join us."

So this was Ruby. Ellen tried not to notice how her hair tucked behind her ear the same way Jo's used to, or how she wore her jeans with the same attitude. From her place in the doorway, Ruby was looking Dean over with a smile.

"Kinky," the girl said, turning her gaze on Sam. " I like it."

They'd tied Dean to the chair, wrists, arms and ankles, Sam explaining that if Dean stayed willingly inside a house so filled with charms when his time was up, the demon would probably consider it an attempt to get out of his deal. Ellen wasn't sure it would help; after all, Dean was hardly in the chair against his will, but she cut lengths of rope as Sam told her to.

Sam didn't react to Ruby's tease, just said to her, in a serious tone Ellen had never heard from him before, "You really doing this? No backing out?"

Ruby's gaze when she replied was steady. "Yes." She stepped into the room.

Ellen saw Bobby edge forward out of the corner of her eye, and then with a crash the hounds arrived.

The plan was this: Ellen and Bobby would stay in their own protective circles, she between Dean and the front door, Bobby between Dean and the back, speaking the words (some sort of spell to hold back the forces of darkness) she'd spent the morning memorizing. Sam would use his powers to hold the dogs physically while Ruby, who was supposed to be able to see them by virtue of being a demon, slit their throats with her knife. Ellen still didn't like that they had a demon as such a big part of their plan. Especially not one who looked so much like Ellen's own rebellious teenage daughter.

Reality was less plan and more chaos.

They'd been expecting two or three dogs, based on lore and the boys' last experience with them. The dogs weren't just crashing against the doors though, but against the cabin's outer walls, and all four windows, which broke at once. Over the noise, Ellen heard Dean shout, "Fuck, Sam, they're hundreds of them!" at the same time Ruby shouted, "No!"

Ellen froze, muscles liquid, all words meaningless and unknowable, and then she heard Bobby's voice, Latin rolling off his tongue, and her own mouth opened and she started to speak.

Ruby moved around the room almost faster than Ellen could see, flashes of light following the slashing of her blade. At one point, Ruby shouted at Sam, and Ellen turned in time to see a floorboard flip up, breaking the Devil's Trap Ruby had gotten caught in.

"You've got to hold them," Ruby cried, and Ellen thought Sam might fly apart when he said: "I'm trying. I can't see them."

Still speaking words she'd learned by rote and didn’t understand, Ellen spun around to look at Dean. He was straining against his bonds, trying to stand up, trying to help them, and the sight nearly killed her, so she turned around again. The front door lay in three pieces, claw marks raked the floor, and the smell was horrifying. She'd had no concept of the 'stench of brimstone' until they opened the Devil's Gate, but that was outdoors, and nothing compared to this. Sulfur, ash, rotting meat, and something she hoped she'd never have anything to compare to.

Bobby's words faltered and Ellen turned to see four gashes open along his forearm, then Ruby was there, blade flashing, hand reaching out to shove Bobby back into his circle. He started again where he'd left off, voice steady even as he ripped the rest of his shirt sleeve and wrapped it around the cuts.

What felt like weeks later, when Ellen's throat was sore from chanting and she'd become immune to the stink, Dean finally said, "There's only one left." Ruby dispatched it before collapsing where she stood.

Ellen followed suit, sinking to her knees in the circle, hoping she didn't land on any shards of glass. She heard Sam move to his brother, but though she was less than four feet away, she couldn't hear the words that passed between them.

Is that it? Is it over? she thought, and opened her mouth to ask, but when she looked up there was a woman in a black dress standing in the shattered doorway.

"Boys, boys, boys," she said in a Southwestern drawl.

Ellen was confused for a moment before she realized that she'd been expecting Marlene Dietrich's voice to come out of the demon's mouth. She looked like Shanghai Lily.

"No need to genuflect." The demon turned on Ellen. "Though I'm flattered."

Ellen didn't answer, just rose to her feet, useless gun steady in her fist.

"And Ruby, my dear, didn't we talk about this little rebellion of yours?"

It was tempting to turn and look towards the sound of Ruby standing, but Ellen kept her gaze locked on the demon in front of her. She wished for a flash that Bela Talbot was standing there. Human or not, Ellen would shoot her right between the eyes for taking away the weapon they needed to end this now. And she didn’t care how ridiculously optimistic that sounded, her thinking she could do something if only she had the Colt.

In the meantime, the Marlene-a-like was picking her way through the debris and around the traps towards Sam and Dean. "Give me the contract," she said.

Sam didn’t flinch. No hand reaching for the pocket where Ellen knew he had the disc, no shifting of his eyes, just one hand steady on Dean's chair and cold refusal in his stare. "No."

The demon lifted her finger and Sam, Dean and the chair slid backwards maybe an inch before Sam's hand came up and they stopped. Marlene rocked on her heels, her face pinching in irritation. The air between them fairly hummed.

"Sammy, give it to me."

"He's mine," Sam answered. "Body and soul. Leave him and go back where you came from."

In the edge of her vision, Ellen saw Ruby creeping towards the crossroads demon. With a flick of one fragile wrist, the demon sent Ruby flying against a wall and dropped her into one of the traps.

"Sam?" Ruby managed to sound pissed off and plaintive at the same time. But Sam didn’t answer, every ounce of his concentration on keeping steady against the demon's push.

Bobby moved to help Ruby and was flung against the opposite wall for his efforts. He hit his head and his hat slid down over one eye as he landed. Ellen panicked when he just lay there, not making any move to sit up or even lift his hat off his face, but then Marlene turned on her and said, "This isn't your fight. Don't move," and Ellen's panic turned to fury.

Dean cut his eyes at her, Hold your ground, wait for an opening, they seemed to say, and Ellen adjusted her grip on the .45 but otherwise stayed put.

The demon changed tack. "Dean," she said, all sweetness and light, "we had a deal. You're not really standing up to your side of the bargain, are you?"

"You try arguing with him," Dean answered. "He doesn't exactly roll belly-up and let a guy have his way."

Ruby snorted at the words, and Ellen wondered for a fraction of a second what that was about, but forgot in the flash of Dean's ropes breaking as though cut by giant invisible scissors.

"Come here, Dean. Now. Or your brother dies."

Dean started walking towards her, but Sam snaked an arm out and pulled him back. "You have no claim over him anymore," Sam said. "I have the contract, remember?"

"He's mine!" The demon was starting to get a little screechy. "My word is my bond, and you have no right to that contract! He's mine!"

It looked like unseen hands were pulling Dean away from his brother, but Sam held firm. Until the arm wrapped around Dean's chest flew back and Dean zipped across the floor towards the waiting demon.

While the Demon was distracted, Ellen aimed at the trap around Ruby and fired. The bullet wasn't large enough to break the circle though, and all Ellen succeeded in doing was calling attention to herself. The shove was like what Ellen imagined being thrown by an explosion would be, and then there was nothing.

Her head, when she came to, felt like she'd been kicked by a horse, a sensation she'd hoped never to be reminded of. She couldn't have been out for long though, because Dean was still there in Marlene's grip, Ruby was still looking indignantly at the bullet hole two inches from her Tony Lamas, and Sam was only a few steps closer to his brother than when she'd been thrown. He looked at her and she gave him a nod. Then he stepped under an elaborate pattern of spirals the boys had painted onto the ceiling and Ellen felt the air in the room change.

"Let. Him. Go." Sam's voice wasn't really any louder, but it sounded like he was talking through a megaphone. Dean was ripped out of the demon's arms and landed gently in the chair, as gently as though he'd walked over and sat himself down.

The demon wasn't treated with the same courtesy. Sam tossed her towards Ruby and she hit the wall with enough force to kill a grizzly bear. She shook it off like it was a bumped shin and tried to rush the boys. Sam's aim was good though, and she was trapped with Ruby.

"Ellen?" Sam said, and she remembered the exorcism.

" Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..." The words came tumbling out with no input from her brain, which was just as well. She could feel Marlene trying to get at her, and Sam somehow stopping it, and it felt like being deep underwater, at the bottom of the old quarry above Miller's farm, so far down you didn't know how your air was going to last long enough to get you back to the surface. Except she could breathe, and see, and somehow she wasn't scared.

The demon was frantic now, shrieking, "Give it to me! Give me the contract! I need it, you have to let me have it!" She and Ruby were both shaking with the effect of Ellen's words.

Suddenly Ellen's attention was caught by Ruby, who stared at the screeching demon and then grinned an evil, sly, triumphant grin. "Destroy it, Sam!" She shouted to be heard over Marlene. "Smash it. Into a thousand pieces. A million, if you can." Ruby grabbed at the other woman's curls.

"Noooo—" Marlene screamed, before the sound was cut off by Ruby's knife slashing across her throat. At the same time, Sam pulled the disc out of his pocket, dropped it, and shot it with the pistol he pulled from his belt.

The sound was deafening and was followed by a sucking silence.

Ellen watched as a sliver of jade, no larger than an eyelash but strangely one of the clearest things she'd ever seen, spun across the floor towards her, seemingly in slow motion. Then the world came back with a snap as Ruby's body dropped to the floor.

Scrambling on her hands and knees, oblivious to the cuts she was getting, Ellen made her way to where Ruby lay. She looked like she'd been dead for months, not rotting, just… bloodless somehow. Ellen remembered Bobby saying he'd shot Ruby the day she'd first turned up on his doorstep, and Ellen's brain shied away from the implications of that. There'd been no swirl of black smoke, no sign of the demon leaving, Ruby was just there one second, exanimate the next. Her hair was sticky with the blood pooling under Marlene's cut neck. Ellen managed, somehow, to avoid both Ruby's out-flung hand and her own knees when she vomited.

A noise behind her turned out to be Sam pulling Dean off the chair and onto his lap on the floor, choking on tears, knuckles white where he gripped his brother's shoulder and hip. Behind them, Bobby was finally stirring.

Ellen had never needed whiskey so badly in her life.


Epilogue
The letter was there when Bobby got home, in amongst the bills and parts catalogs.

Dear Bobby, it said.

I hope when you get this I am gone and your Dean is still with you. I'll leave it up to you if you want to tell Sam and Dean any of this—I'm not sure they need to know, but you might think different, and you always were wiser than I am about these things.

Bet you thought you'd never hear Ruby say that. But here's the thing. I wasn’t always Ruby. It's complicated. Time isn't the same in hell, and it slips. Backwards, forwards, I don't know, maybe even sideways. You can fight it or you can ride it, and if you're lucky, you're in the right place at the right time.

In a couple days from when I'm writing this, a couple days ago (I hope) from when you're reading it, and a few thousand years ago somewhere down below, Dean Winchester went to hell. I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say, he didn't want to go back. When you opened the Devil's Gate, he escaped, and when he realized where he was in your time, he came up with a plan. That plan was Ruby.

I hope you can see why I had to do it. Why none of you could know until it was over. And if you can't? Well, like I said. It's complicated.

If this works the way I hope, DemonDean never will have existed. Don't feel guilty when this body dies though, you weren't the first one to kill it. You weren't the last, either.

I better go. There're some last minute things I have to do before I come and join you all. Don't miss me too much, and give your Dean my love. Sammy too.

Good luck,

Ruby


fin

A/N: Credit for the Ruby = Dean idea that ate my brain goes to smallcaps' story Who's the Bitch Now. She VERY kindly gave me permission to use it. Thank you a million times, for this chapter would not have worked the same without it.

To everyone who commented on the previous parts and kept asking for more, Thank You so very much, and I hope this is satisfying.

To sylvanwitch, beta and cheerleader, this is really one of those times where the cheerleaders are the reason the team won the game. Thank you. Thank you also to lila_blue_b who provided the Latin, and lima_sierra who never agreed when I said I couldn't do it. ♥





Now with added coda