Title: Burden of Sacrifice
Disclaimer: The last time I checked, my name wasn't Kripke or Whedon. Therefore, I own none of this, more's the pity.
Summary: Sam and Dean ask for help in getting their father out of hell from Lindsey McDonald
Author's Notes: For the sake of this fic, I'm assuming that Lindsey somehow survived 'Not Fade Away'
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"Dean, are you sure about this?"
Dean didn't even glance over at Sam as he nodded, gaze fixed on the small, perfectly ordinary looking house where the man they were looking for was supposed to live. The man that Bobby had told them was the only one who might be able to help them. The man who hopefully would know some way for them to retrieve their father from hell.
"Yeah, Sam. I'm sure. If there's any way to save Dad, we need to know."
He could hear Sam's frustrated sigh, and it almost brought a smile to his face. He'd never mention it to Sam, but he was thankful that at least one of them was keeping a level head about this, that Sam was determined to remain skeptical about the whole affair. It was comforting to know that if he started getting carried away, if he started to do something to save John that crossed the line that Sam would be there to reel him back in.
"Dean, even if Bobby's right and this guy is on the level there still might not be anything he can do."
Dean sighed, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and starting towards the front door, hearing Sam trail along behind him. "I know, Sammy. But I've got to try."
The man who answered the door wasn't quite what Dean was expecting. For one thing he wasn't much older than Dean himself, which he hadn't expected with the amount of experience with the supernatural the man was supposed to have, though he supposed he should have known better. But there was something in the blue eyes, some sort of hard edge, that practically screamed that this man was dangerous.
"So, what can I do for you boys?"
His voice was deceptively lazy, bringing to mind a large jungle cat that was just waiting to jump up and lunge at his throat.
Dean met his eyes, slowly pulling his hands from his pockets to show that they were empty. "Bobby Singer said you might be able to help us."
The blue eyes widened slightly at Bobby's name, but that was Lindsey's only visible reaction. "Well now, that depends on what kind of help you boys need."
Dean took a deep breath, glancing back at Sam for an instant and squaring his shoulders when Sam nodded slightly. "Bobby said you might be able to help us get our dad out of hell."
Lindsey just stared at them for a moment before he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head and ushering them into the house. "Not asking for much, are you? Why are you so sure your daddy's in hell, anyway, and what makes you think anybody can get him out?"
Dean glanced over at Sam again, wordlessly asking him to do the explaining. Sam just nodded.
"Dean was dying. There was a reaper there to collect him and everything. Dad made a deal with a demon to save Dean's life, and sacrificed his own in the process." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and obviously trying not to look at the pained expression on Dean's face. "Then recently Dean had a run in with another demon who told him that Dad was suffering in hell because of the deal he made, and that Dean could make another deal to get him out."
Lindsey whistled at that, looking at Dean with something that might have been respect. "Must have been tough, telling the demon no. Was the smart thing to do, though. Selling your soul is never a good idea. Trust me." He shivered slightly, then glanced between Sam and Dean with narrowed eyes. "It might be possible to get your daddy out of hell. Maybe. But are the two of you going to be willing to pay the price? And unlike your friendly neighborhood demon, I'm not talking about your souls."
Dean turned to meet Sam's eyes, then they both nodded and looked at Lindsey. "What would we need to do?"
Lindsey just smiled and headed for the nearby bookshelf. "First things first. You've gotta figure out which hell your daddy's in. Can't work up a plan to get him out until you know that."
"You mean there's more than one hell?" Sam's eyes were wide, and Dean could tell that he was almost drooling with academic curiosity.
The other man laughed, pulling books off of the shelf. "Son, there's probably more hell dimensions than there are people to fill 'em. There's fire hells, ice hells, hells where you do nothing but income taxes or plumbing. You name it, there's probably a hell for it."
Dean just stared at Lindsey's back and blinked at that statement, but he could feel a smidgen of hope in his chest. Apparently Bobby had been right about Lindsey after all, and Dean was certain that if there was any way at all to get John out of hell, that Lindsey could find it.
And if Lindsey could find a way to do it, then Dean would do the rest. No matter the cost.