Sam was awake abruptly. What had woken him? Could he have heard a window opening? He wasn't sure, just that something had made him awaken suddenly.

He lay for a moment, his heart beating loudly in his chest and then he heard a noise. Not a loud noise. But his girlfriend Jess was asleep beside him, so there was nothing or nobody to make a noise. Or, at least, there shouldn't have been. So what had made that noise?

Carefully he crept out of the bed and tiptoed through their apartment to the main room. His heart froze as he could see a figure standing there, an intruder who had no business to be there. Sam wished he had a weapon of some sort as he sidled forward, readying himself for a fight.

The he frowned. The figure, obviously male, was just staying in the one spot and looking around. He wasn't picking up anything or putting things in his pockets. In fact as Sam watched, he almost got the impression that the figure was looking around as if confused as to where he was or how he had got there.

Sam crept closer, swearing under his breath as his long leg caught the edge of the low coffee table and caused a pile of books on it to tip slightly, enough for the top one to fall. The figure turned immediately at the noise. As Sam braced himself for an imminent attack from the intruder, his brain registered two things.

The first was that the noise of the book falling caused exactly the same sound as the noise he had heard earlier, and there was another book already on the floor to confirm his theory.

The second was that he recognised the shaded silhouette of the figure against the dim but lighter background of the wall.

Sam gasped in surprise. "Dean? What are you doing here?"

He took another couple of steps so he could see him clearly. It was definitely his brother, and even as he tried to process why his brother would be in his apartment in the middle of the night, the other man smiled. That sudden intense, brilliant smile that Sam had just missed so much over the last few years.

"Dean. What are you doing here?" But now he was stepping forward in welcome, his arms already coming up to greet his brother, his beloved big brother with a big hug.

Then he stopped. Something was wrong. Why hadn't Dean said anything? Why wasn't he moving from where he stood? Even as he watched, Dean's smile faded to a rueful expression. Then he just nodded at Sam, raised his hand as if in a farewell gesture, and vanished.

Sam blinked. He swallowed hard. What the hell? Had he just dreamt that? What the...? Then a possible answer hit him with an almost physical force that wobbled him on his legs and made his entire body begin to shake uncontrollably. No!

No, no, no!

He turned and ran back into the bedroom, turning on the light as he grabbed for his jacket to find his cell phone.

Jess came to with a lot of blinks and a loud grumble. "What are you doing? What is it?"

Sam didn't bother to respond. All his focus was on the screen on his mobile as he waited desperately for a voice to answer his call.

Nobody did.

"Baby? What is it?" Jess was kneeling on the bed beside him, anxious at the look of complete shock on his face. Desperately Sam tried another number.

"This is John, please leave a message."

"Dad. Dad!" Sam was yelling the words. Jess flinched, she had never seen him like this. "I've just seen Dean! Here in my apartment! He was a ghost, dad! A fucking ghost! Tell me he's okay! Tell me he's not dead! Tell me you haven't got my brother killed for your fucking revenge!"

His voice got even angrier. Jess stared at him in confusion and whimpered slightly at the intense look of something she had never seen in him on his face. She turned her head as she became aware of something behind her.

The furniture was moving. It was all moving! The wardrobe was vibrating on its base, the drawers of the dresser were beginning to slowly slide out along their runners, the large mirror on the top cracked right across with a snap. Jess stared in horror at the sight. And she knew, she just knew, it was something that Sam was doing somehow.

He wasn't aware of what was happening around him, or even of her, he was just frantically dialling numbers. "Come on. Come on!"

Suddenly one was answered. "This is Dean's other, other phone! Please leave a message!"

Sam nearly dropped his cell. Since when had his brother's voice got so deep? And when so gravelly? And why had he not known that? And it hurt how much he had missed it. And how much he had missed Dean's smile. He knew it had been his choice to leave, and he had convinced himself that he would never look back. But oh God, he had missed his brother so much. Please let him be safe. Please God, please let Dean be safe.

He grappled to hold on to the small cell and all but shouted into it: "Dean! Dean! Please answer this! It's Sam! I need to talk to you! It's urgent, Dean! Call me immediately! Please!" He was crying. He knew he was crying. He stared at the phone: who else could he try? Could he remember any other numbers for anyone at all?

Behind him in the room, Jess cowered in terror as the drawers in the dresser began to pull themselves out completely and tip their folded belongings all over the floor. The wardrobe doors flew open and the contents inside began to fly around the room. She stifled a scream as a book from the small bookcase in the corner hit her across the face and tried to clutch at Sam for support.

He knocked her away carelessly and just stared desperately at his phone, willing it to ring and for him to hear a now not so familiar deep voice.

It rang.

"Oh God, oh God!" Sam snatched at the buttons in his desperate haste to answer as he saw the caller id. "Dean! Thank God!"

Then his face changed. "Who is this? Why have you got my brother's phone?"

"Oh, we've met, Sam. Though you probably won't remember. You were only a baby. Six months old to be exact."

"Where's my brother?"

Behind him, Jess did scream as she saw the whole dresser jump forward a couple of foot, causing the mirror to shatter completely, sending fragments of glass around the room. The bookcase tilted backwards and forwards and finally tilted enough to fall with a loud crash against the bed where she had been sitting, scattering the contents on route. Sam wasn't even aware of her, all his focus was on that unknown being who had Dean's phone.

Azazel's yellow eyes glowed brighter as he heard Jess's terror through the receiver.

"Oh Dean? You would have been so proud of him, Sam. He fought so hard for his life. Took him nearly three hours to bleed to death." As he was speaking, he was prodding Dean's body with his foot, enjoying how the once intense green eyes were now glazing over with death. "I tore him apart from the inside out. I'll be honest: of the two, your mother probably had the more merciful death. Your poor brother really suffered. I really enjoyed it."

"I'm going to find you."

He felt so proud of the pure hatred in Sam's voice. He had always had an inkling that Sam would be strong, he could feel the power of the boy even through the phone. "I'm looking forward to it, Sam."

Noticing the still increasing pool of congealing blood, he drew a pattern in it with his shoe to amuse himself. He could hear Jess screaming as the wardrobe began to move forward and tilt precariously towards her. He could feel the intensity of Sam's anger increasing.

"You know, you should be grateful, Sam."

"Grateful?" The disbelief in the boy's voice was almost physical.

"Yes, Sam. You see, my original plan, for years, was to kill that beautiful blonde now by your side. At least that was my intention when I arranged for you two to be introduced. But, I don't know why, it occurred to me that she wouldn't matter to you as much as Dean does. Did, I should say. And I can feel, really feel, even through this contraption, that I was right."

He turned business-like and efficient. "Here, I'll send you the address. And a picture if you'd like. At least you can burn him. Just like I did your mother! Good talking to you, Sam."

Azazel disconnected the call, sent the previously taken photo at the moment of Dean's death, and texted the address from the phone before dropping it onto Dean's cooling body. He smiled down at the sight and stooped to run his fingers gently down the stiffening cheek before vanishing.

Sam sat on the bed in his apartment and stared at the phone in his hand in horror as the image came through. He wanted to throw it across the room, smash it to pieces, but knew he daren't because it was the only way of recovering what was left of his brother. He had never felt such fury in his whole life. He was going to find that yellow-eyed thing and obliterate it with extreme prejudice.

As the address came through with a beep, he finally turned to Jess.

"I've got to go. He's murdered my brother. I've got to get him back!"

He froze as he realised the state of the room and took in his girlfriend's terrified face peering at him from where she had cowered beside the bed, her expression frozen in horror apart from the uncontrollable tears that were streaming down her cheeks. In that moment she couldn't recognise him, his face was so tight with anger, his eyes so dark with pure hatred.

"Sam? What did you do...? How did you...?"

He looked at her and suddenly realised he didn't care. Not really.

"That bastard's gone after my brother!" The glass in the windows shattered and she screamed and covered her head from the pieces of flying glass. Sam watched her dispassionately.

"He's not having Dean. He's not! I'm going to find that bastard demon and destroy him. But first, I'm going to get my brother back. No matter what it takes."