sams1ra

Title: Picking Up Where We Left Off
Disclaimer: This is Kripke's sandbox, I just like playing with his toys ;)
Rating: R, for language and violence.
Category: Gen.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby, OCs, other canon characters.
Spoilers: For all episodes aired in the US. This story is mostly AU for season 3, but some characters and events will be mentioned.

Comments: Are what feeds my muse ;)

A/N: Much love and cookies to the awesomeness that is my beta tru_faith_lost , who helps making this story better. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Son of A/N: Uh, no, I didn't go there. This is not a deathfic.

Summary: Twenty five years ago, a demon killed Mary Winchester and tainted her son. Six years ago, someone drugged and abducted Dean Winchester. Nine months ago, one of a yellow eyed demon's tainted kids killed Sam Winchester. A few days later, the gates to hell opened, and all hell broke loose. And now, everything's picking up where it left off....

Chapter Nine (Part Two)

Sam paced back and forth, checking his watch for the sixth time in half as many minutes. There was a green bench right next to him, under a flickering street lamp. At first Sam thought the flickering light was a sign. Now he just found it annoying. He considered sitting down, but he just couldn’t find it in him to stay still, to not do something. Ruby had said midnight, and it was ten minutes past. He'd tried to put the doubts away, the thoughts that it had been a wild goose chase, a distraction designed to keep him away from his brother. Sam bit off what was left of his fingernails. He couldn’t think like that, not now. He had to stay positive; he had to believe –

"Hey Sam." Sam turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

"Ruby."

"You know, you could just say hi every now and then," Ruby said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Where is he?" Sam demanded. The corners of Ruby's mouth turned down and she nodded a little.

"You know, that whole lost little puppy thing you've got going on? It's kinda cute," she noted. Sam clenched his jaw and drew the Colt from the small of his back.

"Still think it's cute?" Sam challenged.

"Welcome to the big boy playground, Sammy," Ruby said. "Now put the gun down before you hurt someone."

"That's kinda the point," Sam asserted. "Where's my brother?"

"Sam."

"I'm done playing games," Sam yelled, shoving the gun in Ruby's face. "Where's my brother?" He demanded. Ruby tilted her head to the side.

"Sam, meet Fiona," she said, and Sam whirled around to see another woman, clad in red leather pants and a white shirt under a jean jacket. He took a quick step back, aiming the gun back and forth between the two women.

"Sam Winchester. It's a pleasure," Fiona smiled, reaching her hand out to shake his. Sam ignored her.

"I knew it," he muttered, "It was a trap."

Ruby took a couple of steps closer to him. "It's not a trap, Sam. You wanted more information about the demon that holds your brother, didn’t you?" She asked, jutting her head toward Fiona. Sam looked suspiciously from one woman to the other, still aiming the gun at them and slowly backing away.

"Oh, would you stop with the theatrics already?" Ruby snapped, "This is getting annoying Sam, so just sit your ass down and listen!"

Sam hesitated, jaw muscles working hard. His eyes darted around in search of other hidden threats. "Talk fast," he said through gritted teeth.

"Is that any way to talk to someone who was kind enough to…"

"I said, talk fast!" Sam yelled, cutting Ruby off. Ruby narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, huffing a little.

"Well, maybe we shouldn’t be talking to you after all," she said and started pacing, shooting angry glares Sam's way. "You know, I worked my butt off for you, Sam. You should be kissing my ass right about now."

Sam hesitated and lowered his gun a fraction, still wary.

"Well?" Ruby demanded.

Sam gave a small nod and sighed. "I'm listening," he said compliantly.

"You've run out of time," Fiona said softly, and Sam turned to look at her. "It's too late to help your brother."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded.

"It's already been seven days. Not much time before he…"

"Before he what?"

"Before they kill them all," Fiona replied coolly, and Sam swallowed hard. He could feel his heart start to race, his hands shake, and he lowered his gun.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice breaking a little.

"I mean, in a week's time, they'll all be dead," Fiona repeated. Sam shook his head and opened his mouth to protest when Fiona went on. "I work for the demon that holds your brother and the rest," she said.

"And what demon is that?"

"Her name is Dumah," Fiona said, "But she's not important right now. She's only in charge for a few more days. Until they bring Him back," she finished.

"Bring who?" Sam asked, feeling a little light-headed.

"The Master," Ruby said in a small voice, "A demon so old and powerful, even demons don’t know its true name."

Sam stared at Ruby for a moment, before tearing his eyes away from her and looking at Fiona. "And you work for him? For the Master?" He asked.

Fiona shook her head. "I work for Dumah," she repeated, "But I believed in Azazel's plan. I will follow you."

Sam rubbed at the back of his head. "Uh… Thanks. I guess," he said. "Do you know where they're holding my brother?"

Fiona smiled. "I do," she said, and held up her hand to stop Sam from asking his next question. "And no, I will not tell you."

Sam frowned. "Why the hell not?" He demanded.

"Because you would go there, and you'd die," Fiona said calmly. "The place is well guarded. There are many demons there, and many more who'd come at a moment's notice. If you go there now, like this, you will surely die."

"I don’t think so." Sam twisted the gun in his hand to make sure she saw it for what it was.

"Because of the Colt?" Fiona smiled, "You'd have to reload eventually. You'd never get the chance," she said patiently. "Trust me; you wouldn’t even make it through the front doors, Colt or no Colt."

"Then how do I get to him?"

Fiona took a few steps closer to Sam. "You need to understand, Sam," she let out a little breath, "he's from the thirteenth generation of the thirteenth generation. Dumah would never allow you to save him, save any of them."

Sam frowned. "The thirteenth generation of the thirteenth generation? What does that even mean?" He asked.

Fiona sighed. "Mind if I sit down?" She asked, gesturing at the bench. "Those heels may look awesome, but they're more torture than I'd like. Besides, I'd always rather dishing it out, if you know what I mean…" she smiled at little at her own joke as she walked over to the bench and sat down. Sam sat down next to her, while Ruby walked over to stand behind them, leaning against the backrest.

"No one really remembers how it happened, how the Old One became trapped in Hell," Ruby said. "Some demons even believe He may be Lucifer himself, but no one knows for sure."

Sam's brows shot to his hairline. "Lucifer is real?" He asked, more than a little wonder in his voice. "Then isn't he supposed to be… I dunno, like your god or something?"

"Many believe he is," Fiona supplied.

"Then why help me?" Sam questioned.

"You've never been to Hell, Sam," Ruby said dryly. "Trust me when I say it's not the best vacation spot. There's a reason we spend so much time and effort trying to claw our way out of there," she stated, and Fiona went on.

"Lucifer is believed to be the one to bring Hell to Earth, and I, for one, would rather He didn’t," she said.

Sam nodded a little, mind reeling with this new information as he tried to absorb it all and see the connection to his brother. "Okay," he said, stalling for time. He turned to Fiona. "You still haven’t answered my question. What does the thirteenth generation of the thirteenth generation mean?"

"It means those guys just spent the last six hundred and fifty years or so trying to bring their Master back," Ruby noted.

"They'd nearly succeeded six years ago," Fiona cut in before Sam had had the chance to say anything. "Would have, if it weren’t for those hunters."

"Hunters?"

"I don’t know how they'd found out, how they even made it past the doors," Fiona said, and shook her head. "Whatever it was, Dumah will not make the same mistake again."

"Are you telling me they took those people before? And then, what, took them again? The same people, for the same purpose?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Why my brother?"

"He has been marked. Since birth. I marked him myself," Fiona admitted, and Sam had to control himself or he was going to put a bullet through her head.

Fiona gave a little smile. "Wasn’t even supposed to be him," she murmured, almost to herself. "It's the first one that's important. The first of the thirteen in each generation. Their birth is foretold in signs, omens. They usually have the blood of the original thirteen in them," Fiona went on. She scratched her neck. "With the others, it's all about timing. It doesn’t really matter who we mark, just the timing. They have to be marked the day they're born; thirteen weeks, thirteen days, thirteen hours and thirteen minutes after the first one is marked," she explained.

"I was sent to mark a child. Another child. They had a child in mind when they sent me there, but when I got there and saw your brother…" A smile spread slowly on her red painted lips. "What can I say? He was just so cute," she shrugged helplessly and Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. Figures.

"I don’t get it," Sam said a moment later, "I know Dean as well as I know myself, and I don’t remember any special mark…"

"Oh, it's nothing physical," Fiona jumped in quickly, "We are not permitted to harm the infants in any way. It's a mark only we can see, and it calls to us, lets us know where the child is."

Sam considered it for a moment before asking; "So what's going to happen to them?"

"Well, usually it's not too bad," Fiona answered, "Just your basic ritual, a little bloodletting and such. But not this time. This is the thirteenth generation of the thirteenth generation. It'll be different this time. The final ritual."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, it'll be longer for starters. A day for each person; thirteen days total. And on the fourteenth day, they will all be sacrificed, their blood and souls used to bring the Master back," Fiona said coolly. Sam blanched, his mouth suddenly went dry. Fiona petted his thigh sympathetically.

"They don’t know who your brother is just yet," she said, as if it should mean something to Sam. "I mean, they know, but they don’t know, you know? They don’t know he's your brother, that he's a hunter, or a hunter's kin."

"Does that matter?" Sam asked, "I mean, if I go there and say he's my brother, would they let him go?"

Fiona blinked and stared at Sam for a moment, then drew back. "Sam, if you tell them he is in any way related to you..." She shook her head. "The sacrifice is a necessity. The blood and soul are needed, and therefore taken. But it will be quick. They will be drugged… It will be painless, unless someone rubs them the wrong way. If they knew they had your brother there…" She shook her head again. "They will torture him, hurt him so bad that by the time he dies, he will not be able to recognize himself, let alone recognize you," she finished softly and got up from the bench. Sam's heart was pounding, his blood pumping in his ears. Fiona started pacing.

"You cannot save him," she said softly, "You mustn’t, for his own good. You have to let your brother go. It's best for you to move on, get stronger. Get your revenge later."

"That's not an option," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"You need to understand, they will be on guard. They'll be sharp, prepared for anything. Even with the Colt, you cannot save him. You have to let him go, focus on yourself, on getting stronger…"

"That's not going to happen!" Sam snapped, raising his eyes to meet Fiona's, pointing the gun to her head.

"You take me to him. You get me there, and you tell me how to get him out!" He ordered.

Fiona pursed her lips. "No," she said, and Sam practically jumped to his feet.

"You take me to my brother, or I'm going to put a bullet through your head!" He threatened. Fiona glared at him for a moment, before she opened her mouth and screamed. Dark smoke came out of her mouth and nose, hovering over her for a few seconds before flying away, leaving one terrified meat suit in its wake.

Ruby sighed. "You know, getting demons to help you is hard enough without you threatening to kill the ones that do," she said. She was gone when Sam turned to look at her. He quickly turned back when Fiona's former host started screaming.

Dean's heart was well on its way to beating right out of his chest when three of the men that went out came back, half carrying, half dragging a woman.

She wasn’t one of the prisoners. She was a pale woman, with long black hair. She wore a long black dress and black heels. Her arms were bound by thick shackles with symbols on them, which probably meant they needed a little extra boot to keep that one tied up. The woman glared his way, and any sympathy Dean may have had for her flew out the window. Red, iris-less eyes tend to do that to you.

She didn’t look like the demon he'd sealed the deal with, but then again, he'd talked to the crossroads demon twice now, and it had looked different both times. Dean swallowed hard, watching as the woman was brought to her knees before their captor.

"Hello, little sister," the demon smiled. The crossroads demon glared up at her.

"Dumah," she breathed, her eyes widening with fear, but at least now Dean knew his captor's name.

"Long time," Dumah said dryly, drumming her fingers on the barrel she was leaning against. "How've you been doing?" She asked conversationally. The crossroads demon glared at her.

"I've been better," she spat. Dumah made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat.

"Nice meat-suit you're wearing," she said, "Then again, you always did have a good fashion sense." Dumah smiled. The crossroads demon narrowed her eyes.

"That's why you did this? To get this skin?" She demanded, "You know all you had to do was ask…"

"And what name did you choose to go along with it this time?" Dumah cut her off, drawing circles with her fingers on the barrel lid. The crossroads demon stared at her for a long moment before answering.

"Jezebel."

Dumah raised a brow, lips twisting in a smile. "Good choice. Seductive, mysterious. Perfect for your line of work," she complimented.

"Can we get to the point here?" Jezebel snapped and pushed to her feet.

"You've been busy," Dumah noted flatly.

"Oh, you know, quotas to reach," Jezebel shrugged. "You mind taking these off?" She asked, raising her hands and motioning at the shackles.

"Yes, I do, actually." Dumah circled the barrel and leaned against it as she watched Jezebel. "You're going to be one soul short, I'm afraid," she said, jutting her chin at Dean. "I'm going to be needing Dean's soul."

Jezebel laughed. Dumah just stared at her until she stopped laughing. "You're not serious, are you?" She asked. Dumah just kept staring listlessly.

The crossroads demon shook her head. "No. I can't," she said, "He sold his soul to me fair and square," she turned her red eyes at Dean. "Stop this, or I will consider it as trying to weasel your way out of the deal," she threatened.

Dean shook his head. "No. No, no, no, no, the deal holds. I don’t want you to break it," he said quickly.

Both Dean and Jezebel's eyes turned to Dumah at the sound of something slapping against flesh. Dumah hummed as she slipped a second glove on. They were thick, blue gloves, the kind used when working with hazardous chemicals.

"So, sister. Winchester's soul?"

"He gave it to me," the demon insisted. Dumah gave her a chilled look before sidestepping the barrel and opening it. She dipped her fingers inside, toying with the liquid it held.

"And now you will give it to me," Dumah said non-chalantly. "Consider it an early birthday present." She smiled coolly.

"I will not give up his soul," the crossroad demon insisted. "It's already spoken for."

Dumah sighed. "Oh, well," she said, and walked over to the crossroads demon, stroking her cheek gently. Jezebel screamed and flinched back. Smoke rose from her skin where Dumah had touched it. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of… an understanding," Dumah said.

"You wouldn’t!" Jezebel said, bringing her hands to her face, touching it gingerly.

"I wish you no harm. Give me his soul and I will let you free," Dumah said casually. Jezebel shook her head.

"I've already got one unsatisfied customer that lost a Winchester. I'm not going to have another. I do have a reputation to uphold," she said.

"And if I say please?" Dumah asked, dipping her hand back in the holy water.

"His soul is already spoken for. You're going to have to take it up with my boss," Jezebel said quickly when Dumah neared her again.

"I'd really rather not. She won't have him for months now, and here you are, still handling the contract," Dumah said and then grabbed Jezebel by the neck, ignoring the demon's screams. "Give his soul to me," she ordered, pushing the crossroads demon towards the barrel.

"Dean! Dean, do something!" Jezebel screamed, "Stop! Dumah, stop!"

And she did stop. When she had Jezebel's nose millimeters from the water. "Just one soul, sister. I can get you another in its place, if you want, but I rather insist on getting this one."

Jezebel was breathing hard. She fought, tried to get away from the barrel of holy water, but Dumah wouldn’t let her.

Dean watched in horrified fascination. He wondered why the crossroads demon didn’t just leave the host. He figured the symbols on the shackles might have something to do with that. He kind of wished he could get to check those shackles out and see for himself. They looked kinda cool. And thinking about them meant he didn’t have to think about Sam dropping dead, so… win-win.

"Winchester's soul, and this will all be over," Dumah said. And then she shoved Jezebel's head under, holding her under a few seconds longer, while she thrashed and the holy water sizzled. Jezebel was shaking by the time Dumah had her out, her face red and ugly.

"Are you really going to make me repeat myself?" Dumah asked coolly.

"I can't!" Jezebel breathed, and Dumah pushed her in the water again. Jezebel fought hard, but Dumah didn’t even get a splash of holy water on her. Dean's heart was beating in his chest as he watched the two of them, trying his hardest to think, to find a way to use all that holy water to his own advantage.

"Please, she'll kill me if I release him of his contract!" Jezebel begged. Dumah pulled her up by her hair.

"What makes you think I wouldn’t?" She whispered in Jezebel's ear.

"No! No, you don’t understand, I really can't," Jezebel cried. "No, please, listen," she begged. Dumah was holding Jezebel's head inches from the water.

"I'm listening," she said.

"My word is bond. I cannot just break a contract. I can't. I swear, I can't!"

"Oh, come on. Sure you can," Dumah sneered, "You have before, when he asked you." Her cold eyes went to Dean, and he could hardly breathe.

"Not this one. This one is ironclad. I can't break it!" The crossroads demon cried. "But," she gasped, and wouldn’t, couldn’t, say more, as Dumah pushed her under again. She kept her submerged for a long time before finally letting up, pulling Jezebel out and dropping her to the floor like a sack of dirt.

"But?" Dumah reiterated. Jezebel was shaking uncontrollably. Dumah cleared her throat.

"I can't break the contract," Jezebel licked her chapped lips, her voice scratchy and hoarse. "But I can undo it. Make it go away. There's a lot of paperwork, you know? I… I could make it go away," she breathed and pushed herself to her elbows on the floor. "It could be as if Dean never made the deal. His soul would be his own."

A large smile spread across Dumah's lips. "Atta girl,"

"And Sam?" Dean asked. The crossroads demon turned to look at him, still gasping for breath.

"The contract will be no more. Sam will be a nine months old corpse."

"No!" Dean thrust against the bonds holding him to the wall. "This was my deal! It's my goddamn soul! Don’t you dare break it! Don’t you dare…" he sputtered, "You kill my brother, I swear there will be no safe place for you to hide, on earth or in Hell, you bitch!"

But Dumah just crouched next to Jezebel. "Come on, you know you want to do it, sister," she taunted, her eyes on Dean as her smile grew smug.

TBC

Previously: Where it all started >> 2 >> 3 >> 4 >> 5 >> 6 >> 7 >> 8 >> 9a >> 9b >> 10 >> 11 >> 12 >> 13