Where was he? He struggled to recognize the place, it seemed like every other roadside dive bar they’d ever been in, but it was much too clean. He saw the neon sign behind the gleaming wooden bar: Rocky’s Bar. Oh yeah, this was where he needed to be, here in Dean’s bar, the place where Michael was being kept in the locked refrigerator room. Sam walked along the edge of the room towards the refrigerator, trying to stay inconspicuous.
So this was the place where Dean’s memory of Pamela worked, where she wiped the bar counter clean every hour on the hour whether it needed it or not. Here she came, looking sassy and hot, smiling and chatting with Dean who was slicing up lemons. Dean hadn’t spotted him yet. Sam could see that Dean was happy in here, content even. He could hear him chatting with Pamela about knowing that his brother was out on an easy hunt with their angel friend, that he’d be coming back soon. Sam was glad that Dean finally had a place to rest, to just be, and enjoy himself with no guilt or worry. He just wished he could remember why the door to the refrigerator room was locked.
Something slammed against the door he was leaning against with surprising force—Michael.
His hands were on the lock, fingers seizing the pin and he was about to move it up and out of the mechanism when he was knocked to the floor. Dean pinned him, hands above his head.
“Sammy, what the hell are you doing, that door stays locked, you know that,” Dean said.
Sam found he couldn’t quite click his eyes to black in here, or use his demon powers against Dean because his brother was in control in his own mind. At least he was…for now. Sam would have to use something else to get to him.
“Why are you wearing that?” Dean asked, still holding him pinned to the floor. Sam could feel the leather thong around his neck, the weight of the small brass amulet on his chest.
Sam wriggled his hips trying to escape, to get into a position where he could flip Dean. All that managed to do was rub them together in a very distracting manner, the matching hardness of his brother was unmistakable for anything else.
“Was going to give it back to you,” Sam said, pressing his hips up into Dean’s, enjoying the way his brother’s mouth dropped open in surprise and sudden desire. Dean’s eyes fell to his lips and Sam licked them slowly. He was surprised at himself, but he shouldn’t have been, he was a demon now. And demons didn’t care too much about little societal details like manners and incest and so on.
Dean leaned down close to him and lightly brushed their lips together. “Who says I want it back?”
“Me, I know you do,” Sam said, finally able to flip them, he had Dean’s hands over his head. And this must have been what Dean wanted because it was Dean’s mind, his control, his wants and desires running the joint. Sam kissed him hard and demanding and Dean melted beneath him, going liquid and soft, letting Sam move him around, take him over. “I know you want it back, Dean. Because I know that it means everything to you.”
Dean surged up and flipped them once more, their bodies slamming against the refrigerator door. They both could feel Michael battering at it, but neither of them cared. “Can you feel it, Sammy? How much I want you?”
“Yeah, god, Dean, I never thought you did too,” Sam admitted. “never thought you’d want this as much as I do."
Michael slammed against the door again.
Dean moved his hips and Sam groaned with the pleasure of his brother’s weight grinding into him. “Want it, Dean, please.”
Their clothes were off and Dean was kissing him, stroking both of them together, Sam guessed it was because this was all in Dean’s mind, and that was how he wanted it to go.
“Sam, I don’t want to come this way.”
“Want you in me, Dean, please,” Sam begged a second time.
It was happening all so fast, Dean was inside of him, flexing and pounding and thrusting, hot and slick and perfect. The amulet bounced on Sam’s chest with all the movement. He managed to take it off and when Dean leaned down to kiss him, he slipped it over Dean’s head.
Dean lost all sense of rhythm at that point, going at Sam hard and fast, the amulet bouncing on his chest now. “Love you, Sammy, love you so damn much,” he said, one hand on Sam’s cheek.
Sam turned his head and pressed a kiss into Dean’s palm, he looked back up at Dean, the man he loved more than anything, more than the world, more than his own life. He’d become a demon, the King of Hell for him, to save him, this had to work. “Love you too, Dean, more than anything.”
They came almost simultaneously, both groaning out the other’s name, and the momentary loss of Dean’s grasp of control over things gave Sam a chance. He spoke the words of the spell Rowena had given him, his full demonic power channeled into the words. It blasted the lock from the door and Michael was pushing against it. Sam used his demonic strength to hold the door long enough for them to get dressed.
“What the hell did you do, Sam?” Dean yelled.
“Took over Hell, I’m strong enough now to handle him. You gotta trust me, Dean,” Sam said, standing strong in front of the door. “Let him out, I have a plan. Poughkeepsie, remember—I’ll always be there.”
Dean nodded and grimaced, the door flew open and Michael rushed at Sam. In that moment, Dean tackled Michael, coming in hard from the side and crashing him into the wall of beer bottles. They all crashed down, breaking into shards and glass powder. Sam spoke the words of the spell again and Michael’s body froze. Dean wrapped himself around the strangely dressed and stiff form that looked like his twin.
“Do it now, Dean,” Sam said.
“You promise, Sammy?” Dean asked, tightening his hold on Michael who was stirring.
“Yes! Hurry!” Sam shouted, alarmed that Michael was going to escape Dean’s arms.
Dean scrunched up his face in concentration and then they were out of Dean’s mind and back in the bunker’s shower room. The water was still running hot, the blood still running from the cut in Dean’s chest.
“Rowena!” Sam yelled.
“We’ve got him, Sam!” Cas shouted.
Sam let go of Dean, laying him down so his face was out of the stream of water and ran towards the storeroom where they’d set up the Ma’Lak box. He could hear Rowena and Jack talking in a language he didn’t immediately recognize. He could see that the box was closed and Rowena and Jack were projecting power to seal it permanently. He could see the blue-white light of Michael’s grace trying to escape, there was a hole they weren’t sealing. Sam pushed his demonic power out towards the hole and pushed and pulled and tugged the molecules of metal to close up. They could hear the screams of the woman that Michael now possessed as she battered her body against the inside of the box.
“Did it work?” Sam asked, panting from the effort of running and expending all of his demonic energy.
Rowena nodded at him, Cas stepped in to prop up Jack.
“Jack, why did you use your powers, I thought we talked about that?” Cas asked.
Jack smiled at him, weak and depleted. “It was the right thing to do.”
“Hell yes it was,” Dean said, now dressed and holding a blood-soaked towel to his chest.
Sam stepped towards him and Dean held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
The expression on Dean’s face said it all, but he still said the words. “No, you said, Sammy, you promised me. You said you’ll always be here, and you’re not you. You’re something else.”
Sam stood up, tall and proud, unfurling his wings, displaying his horns and claws and roared with all the anger and pain that had helped him become the thing he’d struggled against his whole life. He saw red, literally, the red smoke, the demon-ness or whatever it was poured out of him and he raced towards Hell. He reformed himself there, right in the throne room. The demons gasped with surprise and fear.
“I have returned,” Sam said, his voice boomed and echoed with power. The crowd of demons crouched and groveled before him in a seething crush of bodies.
“I pronounce Meg to be the ruler of Hell, I renounce all claim to the throne,” Sam said with finality.
He saw a lone figure make a mad rush out of the crowd to ascend the throne, she battled and threw demons aside. Finally, the familiar form of Meg was seated upon it, holding one hand up and stopping all of the demons in their tracks.
He saw her wide gleeful grin from across the room. “Say hi to my unicorn, Sam!”
He heard her shout, but instead of stopping to reply, he said the travel spell words backward, and Sam—just Sam, went home. He went back where he belonged. Where he’d promised to stay.
“Sammy?” Dean asked with a trembling fear that Sam couldn’t process at first. What was Dean scared about? His heart sank as he remembered, he’d shown his full demonic self. He tried to click his eyes over to black, and it wasn’t there anymore, the redness was all gone. He’d left his demonic self behind in Hell where it belonged.
“I’m just me again,” Sam said.
Dean pulled him in roughly, squeezing him in a hard long hug, not saying a word, but not needing to in that moment.
Sam dimly heard the other people leave the room and the door closing, it was just him and Dean now.
“Why the hell did you do that?” Dean asked.
“That’s got to be the dumbest question I’ve heard in a long time,” Sam said.
“You promised me that you wouldn’t hurt yourself,” Dean said.
“I didn’t, well except for the cutting the tattoo thing. The King of Hell thing was temporary.”
“You’re an idiot,” Dean said.
“I went as far as I had to, and no further to keep you safe. That was what I promised you, Dean,” Sam said.
Dean let go of him and stood up. Sam could see Dean set his shoulders, that read as a frown and a rejection. “It was way too fucking far and you know it.”
The door slammed behind Dean, and Sam was alone. Which was probably a good thing he vaguely thought as he passed out on the floor next to the Ma’Lak box. He dreamed about the bar in his brother’s mind, and what they’d done, what they’d been to each other. Even in the dream he still knew that it was what they’d been headed towards their whole lives.