Some dialogue has been taken from the Supernatural episodes On The Head of A Pin and It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester.
The warehouse looked plain. Brick sides, flat roof, dirty glass windows. Stereotypical. Sam wouldn’t have even known there was anything different about it, if Castiel hadn’t told them about the angel-proofing the demons had participated in.
“Okay,” Buffy piped up from behind Sam, gazing at the building in confusion. “I thought you said this place was protected.”
“It is,” Castiel replied softly, his eyes focused on the dilapidated structure.
“Doesn’t look protected to me,” Spike murmured, his own eyes narrowing as he gave the warehouse a closer look.
“There’s something wrong here.” Willow held out her hand, eyes closed. A few minutes later she opened them, and began studying the building with a far off look in her eyes. “Oh, wow.”
“Willow.” Buffy walked over to stand at Willow’s side. “What is it?”
“Symbols,” Willow replied. “And lots of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Those symbols keep us from entering,” Castiel told them, a faint frown forcing the creasing of his brow.
“Then how do we get rid of them?” Buffy asked. She was looking at the building like it was some demon she needed to slay, and in away, Sam figured it was.
“Break the lines, right?” Sam said, looking from Castiel to Uriel. “It works with Devil’s Traps, so it should work with this too.”
“Too many,” Willow replied, eyes still on the building’s walls. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t go bye-bye.” With a flick of her wrist, Willow sent out a burst of power. The walls seemed to glow briefly, and then Willow was turning with a large grin on her face. “Ta-da! One angel friendly building!”
“You rock, Will,” Buffy said, a fierce grin lighting up her face. She lifted her scythe. “Now let’s go kick some demony ass.”
“We’d better hurry,” Spike said, hefting his broadsword. “Not like they won’t notice their protections just bit the dust.”
“Let me,” Castiel said, coming to stand before the group. Sam watched as he seemed to grow larger than his frame, his face turning hard, eyes cold. It sent a shiver up Sam’s spine.
Wind seemed to pick up from out of nowhere, the street lights flickered, a few popping and sending sparks flying. Raising one hand, Castiel narrowed his gaze, and blasted the doors off their hinges.
“Step away from, Dean Winchester.” The voice was calm, but carried an authority that was impossible to miss. There was anger in that oh-so calm voice, something Sam had only ever heard from Uriel. Demons and humans were scattered around the room, while a small group stood in the center. Sam darted his eyes over the room, searching for his brother, and got the sinking feeling he was behind the demon grinning at them.
“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” the demon said as he casually twirled a bloodied knife in one hand. “Two angels and their merry little band of do-gooders. How quaint.”
“Alastair, I told you to step away from Dean,” Castiel repeated, eyes focused on the pair in the center of the broken circle.
Another demon lifted its arm, pointing his gun at Castiel. The angel merely tilted his head to one side, observing the demons and other humans as if they were something foul he’d stepped in.
Buffy moved to Castiel's side and lifted her scythe, the shine of the blade matching the hard glint in her eyes. “You might want to rethink that.”
“You have bargained your souls with Wolfram and Hart for false prestige and power,” Castiel said, his voice a low rumble. “You disgust me.”
Sam stepped forward, Ruby’s knife clenched tightly in his hand. “Alastair, get the hell away from my brother.”
Alastair chuckled. “Make me.”
Willow smiled at the challenge. "Gladly," she retorted as she lifted her hands, eyes white as her magic flowed forth. Before she could take aim at Alastair, though, a wave of demons surged upon the group, forcing her to begin taking out any fiend she set her sights on. The ones who didn’t get hit with her magic rushed forward, meeting Castiel and the others with a clash of claw and fist. Spike dove in, Sam and Buffy at his side as they tried to fight their way towards Dean. Bobby and Ellen took care of the humans in their midst, while the cadre of young slayers took care of the remaining demons.
Bobby and Ellen took care of the humans in the midst, while the other slayers took care of the remaining demons.
To the group’s surprise, one of the robed demons picked up the pedestal and cracked Alastair over the head with it, laughing mockingly when the demon staggered forward. When Sam could finally see Dean, it was to his absolute horror that his older brother wasn't moving, and he tried to push his way toward the altar, only to be distracted when, with a roar, Spike leapt at the demon, catching Alastair by his head. With a hard jerk, Spike brought his knee up into Alastair’s face. The crunch of his nose did little to quell Spike’s rage. Alastair only laughed as he reared up, knocking Spike back. Sam took the opening offered and slammed Ruby’s knife home. Shock stilled his hand as Alastair merely smiled, pulled the blade free, and backhanded him. His victory was short lived though as he was soon occupied with trying to keep Buffy from using her scythe to cleave him in half.
Getting back on his feet, Spike rushed to the altar with Sam following close behind, making quick work of the chains binding Dean. Checking his pulse, Spike gently tapped the side of Dean’s face.
“Dean…” Spike said voice shaky while Sam watched his back. “Dean! Come on mate, open your eyes.”
Dean groaned his head rolling to the side before tired eyes peeled themselves open. His eyes were tinged black.
“Dean?” Spike asked.
“Sammy…” Dean gasped weakly, his arm wavering as he attempted to reach out for his brother with it.
“Right here, man,” Sam said, his voice shaking and his hand gripping his brother's searching arm and clinging to it.
“Come on,” Spike said as he quickly pulled Dean into a sitting position. Dean swayed a bit, before grabbing a hold of Sam.
Suddenly, Willow's horrified voice streaked across the room. “Buffy!”
Spike spun around, instantly alarmed at Willow‘s cry, his eyes immediately finding Alastair holding a bruised and bloodied Buffy up by her neck. The Slayer's small feet kicked helplessly in midair, her hands clutching desperately at the ones trying to strangle her, and to his terror, Spike saw her eyes flutter shut as her kicking became weaker. For a split second, there was only the sound of air rushing through his ears, and then Spike’s vision became tinged with red. He vaulted forward with the howl of rage, tackling Alastair and freeing Buffy from his grip. She hit the floor, rolling away, coughing and gasping as she dragged in deep breaths.
When Spike was easily tossed aside, Sam pulled Dean flush against him and angrily raised his hand, rallying his strength and reaching for the power running through his veins, his furious eyes trained on the demon that had tortured his brother and tried to kill his friend.
“I don’t think so, Sammy,” Alastair said. He struck before Sam could strike forcing him to loose his grip on his brother. Dean slid down to the floor feebly as Sam hit the wall of the building with a loud bang. Stars danced before his eyes while he tried to regain his breath. Raising his head, Sam watched as a blast of magic sent Alastair stumbling. Willow stood, feet a few inches from the ground, her normally bright eyes pitch black.
“You hurt my best friend,” Willow snarled, her fury manifesting, swirling around her body as her power lifted her higher.
Alastair stood, laughing. “Oh, is the little witch angry?”
“You’re going to regret what you did,” Willow said an eerie smile on her pale face. Dark veins began to spread out along her skin, and streaks of black permeated her hair.
“Oh, no, my dear,” Alastair said. “You will."
Magic, dark and twisting, raced towards Alastair exploding against his chest. Skin peeled away exposing raw muscle underneath. What was left hung like tattered ribbons. One eye was singed black. Alastair laughed again and raised his hand. He made a fist, and then seemingly pulled back on unseen strings. Willow’s eyes turned white then black, and then back to their natural green before she slumped to the ground.
“I heard you tore the skin from a man’s body,” Alastair said, laughter carried along with his words. “And all for the sake of a dead lover.” Alastair clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Such a waste of talent.” She gazed up at him in alarm, unable to do anything but watch as he advanced. She gave a small cry as he kicked the side of her head, knocking her unconscious.
Sam struggled to his feet, head ringing from when it had struck the wall. He could feel warm sticky blood trickling down his face. Anger rose inside him, swelling with each breath. The world narrowed, the sound from the fighting dimmed, and all that matter was Alastair. Sam raised his hand, feeling the power surging through him, out of him once more, and pushing against Alastair. He caught him off guard, tossing him into the wall. Sam stalked forward, dark gaze focused solely on his target. Alastair grinned.
“You can’t hurt me,” Alastair said. “You don’t have it in you.”
“That’s what you think,” Sam growled out, pushing more of his power out through his hand. His vision swam, blood started to ooze from his nose, but he kept on. Soon his head started to throb, but Alastair was groaning in pain and Sam kept pushing passed his limits. Suddenly something felt like it snapped, and a massive force flew from Sam. Ava had been right it was just like flipping switches.
Alastair screamed as he died.
Everything seemed muted after that. Sam could see demons being felled all around him, but it held little interest. All he could do was stand and stare. The demon that had tormented his brother for thirty years, the same demon Dean had spent ten years working for, was now dead. Despite the woozy feeling, a surge of triumph filled Sam. He’d killed Alastair. He was strong enough. Dean didn’t have to fight anymore-- Sam could do it for him.
Looking up, Sam’s eyes eagerly sought out his brother. Dean was lying still, cradled in Castiel’s arms. Sam’s triumph turned to bitter guilt as he watched Dean’s breathing hitch.
“Dean!” Reaching Castiel’s side, Sam placed his hand on Dean’s face. His skin was cold, his eyes closed. Blood covered most of Dean’s body, causing Sam to flash back to that horrible day when the hellhounds had torn Dean to shreds.
“I’ll take him to the hospital,” Castiel said. Both disappeared with a soft rustling of wings.
Dean lay in bed, bandages covering most of his body. Machines beeped and pinged regularly around him. The morphine floating through his system made sure he didn’t care. Only a dim light shone in the room, creating a soft glow. With the door closed he couldn’t hear anything beyond his room. It was one small thing Dean was grateful for. This way he wouldn’t have to hear the others soft worried words drift in from the hallway. He wouldn’t have to hear their speculation on how he was doing, how they could help him deal, how they all now knew exactly how fucked up he really was.
A soft whisper of wings alerted Dean to the fact he was no longer alone. He didn’t turn his head, keeping his eyes focused on the curtained window. He already knew who was there.
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was soft, gentle though it still sent spikes of pain through his skull.
“Is it true?” Dean asked voice hoarse. “Did I…”
“When we discovered Lilith’s plan for you, we laid siege to Hell…” Castiel let his voice trail off.
“But you were too late,” Dean said.
“Why didn’t you just leave me there?”
“The righteous man who begins it, is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.”
Dean felt his throat tighten at Castiel’s words, his vision blurred. “I can’t do it, Cas. Find someone else, it’s not me.”
“For what it’s worth, I would do anything to not have this burden placed on you,” Castiel said, placing his hand on Dean’s arm. Both men pretended not to notice the tears trickling down Dean's bruised cheeks.
Dean preferred it that way.
“Here.” Sam startled, looking up to see Willow holding out a cup of real coffee. He took it, giving her a weary smile. She nodded back and settled into the chair next to him. The lights in the waiting room were dim, most of the hospital visitors having left once visiting hours had ended. A few nurses were gathered at the nurse’s station talking quietly. The phone rang every few minutes disrupting the flow of murmured words. Across from them, Spike and Buffy were passed out, both pale enough to blend with the walls.
“How is he?” Willow asked, drawing Sam’s attention.
“He’s doped up and looking like a horror movie mummy,” Sam said his voice soft enough not to carry. “There are two slayers outside his room at the moment,” Sam paused and took a drink of his coffee, finishing it in one go. “He was sleeping when I left.”
Willow nodded and took a sip of her own coffee. “Where are the others?”
“Bobby and Ellen went back to the hotel,” Sam replied. “Dawn went back with them.” Sam turned his head, looking over Willow’s own pale face. She had a dark bruise spreading along her temple. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore and headachy,” Willow said, shoulders sagging.
“I’m going to kill Lilith.”
Willow jumped at his words. “Sam, the angels said—“
He stood placing his cup on the coffee table before them. “I know what they’ve said.” He pulled on his jacket with short jerky movements. “But look what happened. Dean was nearly killed because of them.”
“Sam,” Willow said, standing and placing her hand on his arm. “It wasn’t their fault.”
“They know about Wolfram and Hart,” Sam snapped, jerking his arm out of her grip. “And they know about Lilith. They could stop this all, but all they do is throw more crap at Dean. Well I’m done listening to them. I’m doing things my way from now on.”
Turning, Sam stalked towards the elevator. If he hurried he might be able to catch Ruby before she took off.
A sun warmed breeze blew through the window carrying a hint of salt with it. Curtains drifted gently back and forth with the coming and going of the wind. The sun was slowly setting over the sparkling blue waters they could see outside their window. Steve was stretched out on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Carlos lounged in one of the cushioned love seats, sharpening one of his hunting knives.
A knock at the door herald the entrance of a tall blonde woman. Her long hair swayed gently as she walked. She wore a bikini top, a hibiscus print wrap around skirt, and flip flops. She held a tray with two drinks balanced on it.
“Gentlemen,” she said with a sweet smile, placing the drinks on the table. She then leaned back, holding the tray to her chest. “I’m very disappointed in you. Your bragging cost me my ritual. It would have been so much easier to just open one big seal instead of sixty six little ones.”
Carlos and Steve both stumbled from their seats, reaching for weapons as the woman’s eyes turned a brilliant white. They didn’t get very far before they were both pinned down in the seats they had tried to escape.
“I’m gonna kill you, you filthy bitch!” Carlos said trying in vain to reach the knife he’d dropped.
“Now, now,” the woman said. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
“You ain’t no lady,” Steve growled out.
“You’re right,” the woman said. She smiled again, wide and bright. Her right hand casually lifted into the air, palm facing forward. The room quickly filled with terrified screams and searing white light. “I’m not.”