I'm real sorry about not updating and the crappy condition and length of the first two chapters. I'm trying to work on it, but I don't have much time nowadays.

Two Months Later:

"Sam, watch out!" Sam whirled around with breathtaking gracefulness, one hand shooting out to grab the demon by the neck. He grinned maliciously, his eyes a deep obsidian.

The demon choked, writhing in his grasp. "Too slow," Sam hissed. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica, Ergo draco maledicte et sectio Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolicaUt Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos," he rattled off, watching in sick pleasure as the black smoke drained through the floorboards.

Dean came up behind him, panting. "You okay?" Sam cocked his head and blinked, his eyes returning to their normal hazel.

"I'm fine. We should go."

Over the months, Sam had grown steadily stronger, and was now definitely more powerful than the average demon. As far as his dual personalities went, they agreed to work hand in hand to help protect Dean and kill whoever was behind his deal.

Dean nodded, leading the way out of the rusted warehouse and down the gravel road to where the Impala sat, gleaming under the light of the moon. Sam suddenly stiffened, his eyes flashing black again. "Sam?"

Sam's upper lip raised in a snarl. He turned and a man stood there, arms crossed, and wearing the most punch worthy smirk Dean had ever seen. With light blonde hair and dark blue eyes, he just seemed like a stereotypical jerk. "Hey, Sam," he sneered. "Finally crawled your way out of that blood pit, did you?"

Dean watched as Sam's snarl twisted into a terrifyingly cruel grin. "Fredrick. Finally grew a spine for that scum soul of yours in your time in the flames? Oh that's right, you never could stomach it."

Fredrick scowled. "Everything's gone to hell down there. After you killed Azazel and helped shut the gate, you start hunting with your human brother. Way to dig yourself a hole."

Sam folded his arms across his chest, his face betraying nothing. "I have my reasons."

Dean held his hands up. "Okay, whoa, what the hell? Who are you? And what sorry soul would name you Fredrick, for God's sake?"

Fredrick deadpanned. "I don't remember including you in the conversation, Winchester." Dean shrugged. "If Sam's involved, so am I." Sam frowned. "Dean." Dean looked back at Sam, who shook his head slightly.

"You didn't come here just to goad me; what do you want?"

The demon nodded. "True. I've been sent with news from Lilith: she's coming for your head."

Dean blinked a few times. "Excuse me? What the hell did he ever do to her? And who is Lilith?" he bit out through gritted teeth. Fredrick ignored him, his midnight eyes continually trained on Sam. "Why does she want my head? I've never dealt with her."

His brother threw up his hands. "Whatever. Just frickin' ignore me, see if I friggin' care," he muttered angrily.

The blonde demon rolled his eyes. "You haven't heard, have you? When Azazel kicked the bucket, the throne to hell fell on your lap." Both brothers froze in their tracks, Dean's green eyes flickering over to Sam to take in his reaction.

Sam swallowed visibly. "Why'd they give it to me?"

Fredrick laughed. "Are you kidding me? You're were Azazel's prized possession. His best creation. Of course it went to you. Some of Azazel's followers have come to your aid, and that's the only reason Lilith doesn't already rule Hell."

He blinked. "In my opinion, you should get down there and sit your ass in that chair before you do anymore damage."

Sam scowled. "I don't want it," he argued, hands curling into fists.

Fredrick shook his head, smiling in amusement. "You don't really have a choice, Sammy." Sam took a step forward, towering over him threateningly. His hazel eyes were swallowed by black and anger took over his features.

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

Dean couldn't help but take a step back. Sam had never liked demons calling him that, but he'd never seen him so livid. Fredrick raised his hands in mock surrender.

Sam exhaled and the black receded to show his hazel irises.

"Whatever. But whether you like it or not, Sam, you're in this war. Either you take the throne, or she does."

Fredrick reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a manilla envelope. He tossed it to Sam, who caught it with one hand and frowned questioningly. "And if you don't step up, she'll kill everyone."

His vessel opened his mouth and screamed, loud and long as black smoke streamed out of his mouth and into the air, swirling off into the night. Dean swallowed nervously and approached his brother, eyes flickering from Sam's face to the envelope in his hand.

Dean looked at him questioningly, and Sam shrugged before tearing the envelope open and pulling out a wet piece of black cloth. Sam's face darkened when a familiar scent wafted up his nose.

"Smells of hellfire," he muttered darkly. Dean didn't like the way Sam said that, and he sniffed quietly in an attempt to try and smell anything but the moisture in the night air.

As Sam held the cloth in between his fingers, a red substance seeped from it, trailing down his hand, and dripped onto the ground. Dean knelt down and pressed a finger to the liquid so he could inspect it closer.

"Is this...blood?"

Sam brought the cloth up to his face and breathed in. He inhaled sharply, his eyes momentarily flashing midnight. "Yeah. It's Lilith's," he growled.

Dean could see that Sam was angry, but he didn't know why. "Sammy, does this mean something?"

"It's a...declaration of sorts," Sam replied, stuffing the cloth back into the envelope and wiping the blood off on his pants. He began walking away, but Dean, being unsatisfied with his answer, grabbed his shoulder to turn him around.

"Don't touch me!" Sam snarled, and Dean drew back, mentally chiding himself. It was one of the things Sam couldn't stand anymore. Physical contact without warning was a huge no-no.

It was possible to touch him without Sam freaking out, but it only worked with Dean, and it had to be done slowly, gently, and in Sam's line of sight. Another thing Sam had problems with was heat.

While understandable, it was also pretty inconvenient. On days where it was too hot outside for Sam's liking, he preferred to stay inside.

Dean stook a step back. "Sorry," he said. Sam took a deep breath. "Let's go," was all he said. Dean slipped his hands into his pockets and followed after him. Sam wasn't nearly the person he used to be.

He was now, though didn't like to say it like that, a demon. Barely any compassion and an unparalleled rage. The only thing separating Sam from the others was the very thin layer of humanity his little brother still clung to.

And by God, Dean would keep it that way if it was the last thing he did. But Bobby had once pointed out that when Dean was gone, there was nothing to stop Sam from going off the tracks, and Dean knew it, he knew that's exactly what would happen.

Which meant that sooner or later, Sam would be exorcised by a hunter he couldn't beat, and the two brothers would be bunking down in hell.

Dean couldn't bring himself to regret the deal, but he couldn't find much hope for Sam living hell-free for long after Dean was gone.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?