Hey guys! Sorry for the wait on this one. I think it's finished, and it's kind of a cliffy. But I think this is the ending I want. As a small recap, Dean was in the hospital, Sam went to find Alistair. They're now in a faceoff, about to battle.

THEN:

"Fine, have it your way," Sam said, monotone.

"You're stronger, Sam," Alistair stated, beaming with pride.

Sam remained without fear, without emotion, left only with instinct – that of the hunter, his prey in his sites.

"You have no idea."

*************************************************

NOW:

A brutal jab to the right, a swift kick to his ribs, and a firm grip on Alistair's neck were the only sentiments exchanged between the two men.

Sam remained numb. They fought like men, though neither fully were fully that. Demon blood dripped, eyes locked, shouts through clenched teeth and fists blistered through bruises and back and forth physical torments.

Street brawlers. After prolonged minutes of fighting, Sam brought a tired fist up and down again onto Alistair's weakening form. Amid each punch, Sam spit raw words.

"You sick –," he shouted, "twisted" with another kick to the stomach, "piece of--"

Alistair's neck then snapped around unnaturally, to which he brought it back with an inhuman crack and a bloody grin.

"Shit!" Sam cried, while all his strength and all his power forced his fist to collide in one final blow.

Alistair's grin finally faded as the demon realized that playtime was over.

While Sam lifted Alistair up by the middle of his shirt, the demon finally spoke, raising a hand to the air in submission.

"Wait," Alistair said.

Sam's closed hand stopped mid-air, his mercenary-like trance dissolving with Alistair's uncharacteristically genuine tone.

"What?" Sam asked through heavy breaths. "Are you actually afraid?" Sam said coldly.

"I obviously cannot defeat you – as demon or as man," Alistair admitted. His words seemed honest, bordering on the realm of respectful. Was it possible that Alistair actually saw in Sam an equal?

"And you are far more powerful than I -- than Azazel ever imagined," Alistair continued. Sam's grip on Alistair's shirt loosened, the demon regaining his own footing slowly as Sam stepped back from the demon and a name that resounded in his nightmares.

"Azazel?" Sam blinked, confusion apparent.

"Yes, Sam," Alistair said, his balance regaining as the hunter completely released him. Standing fully now and straightening his sports coat, Alistair took a deep breath.

"Azazel was an associate of mine, one you and your brother destroyed amidst our," Alistair said, licking his lips, "plans."

"Fuck your plans!" Sam seethed. "I'm sick of your plans."

Taking three long steps behind him, Sam brought his hands up to the sky in frustration. "You've got a plan for the apocalypse, a plan for me, a plan for Dean." Sam's voice rose in volume. "You fucking got a plan for that tree over there, too?" Immediately, Sam raised his hand and channeled his focus on the leafy oak behind Alistair. His fingers curled as he sent a wave of energy towards the tree, and Sam watched with a satisfied grin as the tree responded back in an explosion of fire.

Narrowing his eyes at Alistair, Sam hoped to find the intimidation there. The last effort had taken much out of him, but he was determined not to let the demon see that. In the demon world, one had to know when to bluff and when to tell the truth. The important thing was to make them believe that you knew what you were doing.

"Impressive," Alistair said, his face seemed to mean it. "You've come into your own and all you needed was the trigger."

Shadows from the fire danced along Sam's face. He remained stoic, but inside he wanted to wring Alistair's neck and demand answers. However, as demons tended to do, Alistair enjoyed to relish in the dramatics and chose each word carefully. Truly, he was enjoying having Sam hang on every word.

"The trigger…yes, you know what it is." Alistair smiled, though he still struggled to breath, his human form broken.

"Trigger?" Sam's mind raced.

"Isn't it obvious, Sam? We all had it. It's what brings us over, people like you and me--"

Sam brought his hand up and psychically gripped Alistair by the neck.

"We are nothing alike," Sam said without inflection.

Alistair's eyes went wide with surprise. He hadn't expected Sam's reaction and clawed at his neck to try to rip away the invisible hands that held him there.

"Pl-please, Sam," Alistair pleaded. "I tell y-you what I know."

Sam's hold loosened, though he stood ready to take the demon out if he slipped again.

"It's what brings people like me over to serve Him," Alistair corrected himself.

"Him?" Sam questioned, disgusted at himself that he was engaging in a conversation with this beast.

"My Lord. The one that freed us. The one that gave us choice, free from tyranny, dictatorship, and forced decision. Don't you see, Sam?" Alistair asked.

"Enlighten me," Sam snapped back.

"He was the one that gave us free will. Without his guidance, his 'fall from grace,' as you people put it, we would all be slaves."

Sam scoffed, "You're kidding me, right? Are you seriously giving me that 'Satan is a hero' line? Really?"

Alistair stared, confused.

Sam continued, "Yeah, I read Paradise Lost, too, and what was it? 'Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven,'? Do I have that right?"

"It's about choice, Sam," Alistair said.

"Right, right, the choice, all lead by this trigger," Sam's eyes rolled. He was tiring of this demon's diatribe.

"It's what leads us to the dark, as you say. Some do it out of pride. Out of greed. Others out of lust. Out of envy."

Sam interrupted, "Is this going somewhere? Or can I just kill you right here."

Alistair sped his speech. "You, Sammy, you are different. Your trigger wasn't a desire for wealth or power. You never wanted either, did you now?"

Sam held his breath, unsure of what to say.

"No, what was it Sam? What brought you to me today? What made you seek me out, forced your hands into yet another battle against the things that go bump in the night?" Alistair, realizing he had Sam's full attention, ventured a few steps closer to his opponent, as he continued, "What transformed you into this cold, dark, and powerful hunter?"

Sam felt his strength subsiding, his knees weakening.

"What made you embrace your powers and turn your back on everything, perhaps even life itself?"

Sam's vision wavered as his mind wrenched backwards in time, hit by a vision of plastic snakes that spit out medicine, sleeping on starched bedsheets. The bruised body of a man, teetering on the brink of death, blinked into focus. Covered with purple marks and cuts, the aging hunter finally opened his hazel eyes.

As the memory played out in Sam's mind, every feeling that went with it rose to the surface. Anger, relief, powerlessness, and power called to him. Dean turned his head, despite the pain, his mouth struggling to find the right words as Sam towered over him with tears in his eyes.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice scratchy. His heart monitor created a metronome for his breaths. "Are you okay?"

Sam had to laugh a little, despite his tears. Even then, as Sam had waited along Dean's bedside for days on end, Dean finally awakens from a comatose, nearly dead state, to ask if, in fact, Sam was the one that was okay. Forever protective.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine," Sam said. "Welcome back."

Dean moaned something inaudible, and Sam brought his head down to hear him again.

"What was that?" Sam said.

"Get him," he muttered, slipping in and out of the realm of sleep.

"Get who?" Sam asked, holding onto Dean's hand tightly.

"Alistair. Don't kill….Alistair," Dean coughed. He couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Don't kill? He did this?!" Sam could barely control his anger.

"Bring him," Dean said. "He's mine."

With that, Sam knew what he had to do. The memory faded and the image of Alistair snapped back into focus.

"What made you do it, Sam?" Alistair was still talking. "What brought you to me?"

Sam brought his head down, mumbling Dean's name below a whisper. Alistair inched closer, always afraid of not being able to see what humans called the "windows" to their disgusting little souls.

"Hmm?" Alistair wrung his hands together. "What turned you?"

Sam took a breath and raised his head casually to lock eyes with the demon. Instantly, Sam found his trigger.

"Dean!" As quickly as he shouted Dean's name, the older hunter emerged from hiding, the fires of the dying tree behind him as he raced towards the demon, grabbed him by surprise, and placed the cold barrel of the colt against Alistair's temple.

Cocking his own trigger, Dean said into Alistair ear, "Long time no see."

Alistair's body went stiff at this surprise attack, his hands being held behind him and with the gun to his head, he had no other choice.

Alistair rocked his head back and opened his mouth wide to release himself from his captive state, the only way a demon knew how.

As soon as the black smoke touched his lips and crawled skyward, Sam lifted an open palm in his direction. Concentrating all his will, Sam bit his lip and fought the demonic essence, compelling it to crawl back into the body it inhabited. Ever so slowly, the black smoke reversed its direction and returned back into the host, much to Alistair's increasing horror.

"Not so fast," Dean said to Alistair who was now imprisoned in his body. "We have so much to talk about!"

Dean winked at his brother who still stood with his hand up, keeping the demon within his host. Dean brought his lips closer to Alistair's ear, "Bet you didn't see that one coming, now, did you?"

With a fierce shove, Dean pushed his hostage towards the Impala that was waiting in the lot behind the playground.

"You see, Al," Dean said as he walked his captive ahead of him, "Can I call you Al? Well, we sometimes have plans, too. Crazy, huh?"

Sam followed closely, making sure that Alistair didn't try anything.

Nearly throwing Alistair into the back of the Impala, Dean kept the door open briefly so he could spit a few more words to the beast before closing it. Alistair finally saw Dean for the first time. The older hunter was wearing his usual dark leather jacket, but his left wrist was in a cast, while new scars and bruises still showed themselves along his weary face.

Cleary, Dean had only partially recovered from what Alistair's minions had done to him, but the man only seemed strengthened, driven by anger, and not weakened by it all.

"You Winchesters. What do you want?" Alistair's lips curled in utter revulsion.

Dean straightened up by Sam who stood loyally next to him, both looking down at their weakened prisoner with equal malice and calmness.

Exchanging one look to each other and smiling, the brothers turned their attention back to Alistair. Before shutting the Impala's door, Dean responded, "Like I said. We have plans, too."

SHUT.

THE END.

So what did you think? I know, I know, "What are the plans, Pandora?" Basically, it involves Dean torturing Alistair and pretty much getting as much information out of the demon as possible about hell and Dean and Sam's destiny. But since I have no idea WHY Alistair did all that stuff, I'm not going to go there.

Unless, there's a huge demand for more, I think this is it. Hope you enjoyed it! :)