Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way!

A/N: Sorry for the extended silence everyone! I have been doing a LOT of writing lately, just not for fanfics, but some recent reviews on my previous stories inspired me to return to my old stomping grounds and post something new just to say thank you for all your continued support. You know who you are ;) This truly is the best fandom out there!

Summary: Sam and Rowena make a deal to "save" Dean, and Dean ends up paying the price. Hurt!Dean and Protective!Sammy. SPOILER ALERTS for episodes S10E17-S10E19.

Sam woke to the annoying sound of his phone buzzing on the table two feet from his head. He groaned, burrowing further into his pillow, hoping whoever was calling this early in the morning would just give up and go away. Sadly, they didn't.

Eyes still sealed shut from fatigue, he reached out blindly and fumbled for his cell, knocking a few minor odds and ends onto the floor before finding the satanic piece of technology responsible for dragging him back to consciousness.

"'lo?" he grunted, already on the verge of drifting back to sleep.

"Good mornin', sunshine! Did Ah wake ya? Ruin your beauty sleep, perhaps?"

Sam's eyes flew open, instantly alert. "Rowena? How did you get this number?"

"Never mind that. Jus' thought you'd like ta know, I've cracked th' code an' translated th' spell ta get that mark off o' your brother."

"Seriously? O-okay… I'll uh, I'll be there in half an hour."

Sam sat up and reached for his jeans, holding the phone to his ear with one shoulder as he struggled to get dressed.

Rowena chuckled, immediately putting Sam on edge. "Oh, don' bother, Sam. Ah won' be there."

Sam froze. "What?"

"Did ya really think that a book powerful enough to remove th' mark o' Cain wouldn't have a simple spell to break those little charmed bracelets o' yours?"

Sam clutched the phone so hard the plastic casing cracked. "Rowena, I swear if you…"

"Calm yourself, lad. I'll still be fullfillin' my end o' the bargain. As a matter o' fact, I'm on my way to seein' your brother as we speak!"

"Wait, now?! I haven't had the chance to talk to him about all this yet! We can't just…"

"No time like th' present, Sammy. You best hurry if you don't want ta miss all th' fun!"

CLICK.

"Rowena? Rowena! Damn it…" Sam shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his gun, checking that it was loaded before setting off towards his brother's room.

Only as he made his way down the hall did he realize something felt off. He paused outside Dean's closed door and leaned in, listening intently. He heard nothing but absolute silence and his stomach turned to ice.

For the past six nights, Dean's desperate screams and pleas had jolted him out of a sound sleep, always around the same time like clockwork. But tonight? He hadn't heard a peep.

Sam's instincts were screaming at him to move, so with gun at the ready, he shoved his brother's door open and found the room completely empty; the bed still perfectly made with military precision.

Fearing the worst, Sam did a quick search of Dean's belongings to find that his favorite jacket and boots were also missing.

Not taken then. Just gone.

"Damn it, Dean…"

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean was exhausted, and not just physically from the lack of sleep. Winchesters rarely got more than four hours of shut-eye a night, even on a good day, so he was no stranger to insomnia.

But the bone-aching weariness that made even the task of breathing uncomfortable stemmed from a deep-seated mental and emotional turmoil that could only be alleviated by copious amounts of alcohol, and Dean knew just where to go for his self-prescribed medication.

He rapped his knuckles on the bar for the third time since he waltzed into the place half an hour ago and seconds later, his empty glass of whiskey was full again; best damned magic trick in the world.

Dean's phone started buzzing in his pocket. He retrieved it, saw his brother's name on the caller ID, and declined the call with a heavy sigh. He had hoped his absence would allow Sammy to actually sleep through the night for a change, but he supposed he should've known better.

Instead, his brother was going to kill him for taking off in the middle of the night without leaving a note behind. But in all fairness, it's not like Sam had been completely upfront with him lately either, sneaking off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what...

Did he really think Dean wouldn't notice how half-assed his excuses were? A French movie about a confused cockroach with miming skills? Seriously?! Or how about all the times Sam would hurriedly end a phone conversation as soon as Dean walked into the room?

His brother had been lying to him for weeks, and even worse, he had somehow convinced Castiel to do the same. If Dean hadn't been able to make Metatron talk, there was no way Hannah could've gotten the location of Cas' grace out of him.

As disturbing as it sounded, Crowley seemed to be the only one being up front with him these days. How wrong was that?

Dean emptied his glass and rapped on the counter top again, calling the young bartender back over.

"Do me a favor, Donny, and just keep 'em comin', huh?"

"Rough night?" Donny asked, concern written all over his face at Dean's haggard appearance. He filled the glass once more, then settled his forearms on the bar, ready as always to listen to his patron's problems.

The older Winchester forced a smile. "Nah. Just needed to get out for a while."

Donny's eyebrows rose skeptically. "At four o'clock in the morning?"

"It's five o'clock somewhere, right?"

Dean tilted his glass slightly towards the bartender in salute. Donny shook his head in amusement.

"Whatever you say, chief."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Sam grabbed his coat and stepped out of the bunker to find the Impala sitting right where his brother had parked her earlier. That meant Dean must've left on foot, which drastically narrowed Sam's search radius.

The nearest civilization was two and a half miles due north, and Sam would bet his computer that Dean was holed up in one of its bars. He jumped into the front seat and revved the engine to life, dialing his brother's cell for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Come on, man. Just answer your damned phone…"

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean rolled his eyes when he saw Sam's name pop up on his phone yet again. He debated on answering just to make sure everything was okay, but Dean wasn't ready to let go of his buzz just yet and Sam had a special talent for killing it. Plus, if he had wanted to talk, he wouldn't have left in the first place.

Dean shut his phone off, shoving it back into his pocket.

"Trouble at home?" Donny asked, jutting his chin towards Dean's now hidden cell.

The older Winchester let out a huff of laughter. "I guess you could say that."

"Hey, speaking of trouble… What happened with those Abercrombie punks the other night? I stepped out for a quick smoke and when I came back in, the whole place was empty."

Dean stared at the amber liquor in his glass, swirling it around to distract himself from the memories of those kids under Rowena's control. More importantly, from the memories of what he had wanted to do to them thanks to the mark of Cain.

"Must've been past their bedtime."

Donny leaned closer, keeping his voice conspiratorial. "You kicked their asses though, right?"

Dean could vividly recall standing over the leader of the frat boys, broken cue stick in hand and aimed at the kid's heart. Every muscle in his body demanded that he submit to the mark and bathe his hands in the guy's blood. And damn it, he wanted to do it. If that didn't make him as bad as the monsters he hunted, he didn't know what did.

His smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. "Who do you think is payin' for tonight's drinks?"

Donny let out a bark of laughter and clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Just for that, next round's on me."

"Oh, on th' contrary, dear," a heavily accented female voice stated from a few feet behind Dean, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Th' next one's on me."

With a flick of Rowena's wrist, Donny and the only other patron in the place- a middle-aged regular with a beer gut and no particular place to call home- slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Dean took another sip of his whiskey before setting his glass down with a resigned sigh, refusing to turn around in his stool. "Rowena," he acknowledged, sounding bored. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna show."

"You're sayin' you were expectin' me?" she asked, trying to keep the surprise out of her tone.

"I'm sayin' I know my brother, and I know that when he gets desperate, he gets reckless."

Dean finally turned to face the redheaded woman, leaning back on the counter nonchalantly.

"What ever deal you think you made? It ends here. You're gonna stay away from Sam, and you're gonna stay away from me. Cause next time I see you, I won't hesitate to slit your throat, regardless of how many innocent hostages you surround yourself with. I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Is that you talkin', or the mark?" She looked him up and down calculatingly, making Dean's skin crawl.

"You really wanna wait around to find out?"

"Well, handsome, th' thing is… I've already held up my end o' the bargain."

Dean frowned at her, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. "You sayin' you found a way to break the curse?"

Rowena smirked at him. "More or less."

"I'm guessin' it ain't out of the kindness of your heart. So what did Sammy promise you in return, huh? No, wait. Let me guess… Your son's head on a platter. Am I close?"

"Worked it out all by yourself now, did ya? And ta think, all this time, Ah thought Sam was supposed ta be the smart one!"

"He's the trusting one. Me? Not so much. Which is why I gave Crowley a head's up and told him to stay off the grid till I put you in irons you can't escape from."

Rowena shrugged, feigning indifference. "A small set back, perhaps, but it changes nothin'."

"Really? Cause there's no way Sammy's gonna get to Crowley now, so he can't hold up his end. Which means, unless you're feelin' particularly charitable…"

"Oh, Dean… Sam killin' my son would've just been a perk. Crowley's death is goin' ta happen, one way or th' other. It's only a matter o' time. But that whole bargain thing was just a distraction ta keep your brother from seein' the bigger picture."

Rowena stepped right up to Dean, a satisfied grin on her face, and Dean was suddenly finding it really hard to breathe as he looked up at her. "Which is?"

"I'll admit, Ah got a bit carried away last time we met. Ah was bein' an overprotective mother, so sue me. But Ah didn't come here ta try and kill ya again."

She leaned forward, placing her hands on Dean's knees so they were level with each other. "Th' real prize, my beautifully self-deprecatin' boy, is you."

TBC

There you have it! Chapter one! Please review!