Author's notes: I don't own, Yada Yada :) This is translation of one of my stories, inspired by Came Tumbling After by Melfice. Thank to AlexHamato for editing this story!

The only thing Dean Winchester knew for sure was that his brother bleeding out and his blood was dripping on the cold ground. The rain was cold too, but he didn't notice. He didn't feel the cool wetness that was soaking into his clothes. Didn't feel the icy fingers of the wind. And if his senses weren't so blurred, he would know he was kneeling in the mud, like in prayer. Hiis eyes were locked at two men in front of him, unseeing. He was frozen, his mind dark and blind and trying to fight an invisible enemy, to solve an impossible task…

The demon, who was holding his brother's limp body in his suffocating grip, pressed the knife closer to the skin of his throat until it left a thin and bloody line.

"Only a handful of dirt, Dean," he sing-songed with twisted smile, "just one and I will send Sammy to the other side."

Dean swallowed, his fingers buried deep in the wet ground tightened painfully. He had to fight with all his being against the desperate urge to dig with his bare hands. The thought of standing on top of the fresh grave while underneath his friend struggled to catch his breath was unbearable.

"Tick-tock, Dean," the demon continued with his irritating tone, "it is time for you to make a choice."

His stomach clenched painfully and made him sick. His pulse was drumming at his temples and he couldn't think.

You need to choose.

No, he didn't have to think about it. There was another way, he just coudln't see it yet. There has to be another way.

"I am wondering how much blood your brother will have to lose before he dies?"

A thousand different scenarios crossed his mind, but none of them seemed to work. His angel blade was stabbed in the throat of a demon few feet away, but he wasn't close enough to grab it before the creature could kill his brother.

"Or for how long can an angel survive without breathing?"

The demon's words burned through Dean's tortured mind. With an effort, he pressed down the spasms in his abdomen and the nausea. There was no time to be sick.

You need to choose.

He needed to choose, but how could he? Sam was bleeding out above him. Cas was suffocating below him.

"He's a fighter, I have to admit it, your angel," the demon continued to spit his venom. "He took down four of us before we could bind him."

Anger bubbled in the chest of the hunter. He wanted to bury his fists in the hideous face of that damn thing, to erase the twisted smile and hit him until it left nothing but bloody mess.

"Oh, and the look Castiel's face when he saw his name on the sigil!" Dean gritted his teeth. This bastard was truly amused with the situation. "Have you ever seen fear in the eyes of an angel?"

Sam made quiet weeping sound. The wound below his ribs hurt like hell and he could barely see the blurred outline of his brother with half-closed eyes. He felt demon's cold fingers grip his throat painfully and he couldn't breathe.

The demon held him in front of his chest, one hand in the suffocating grip, the other pressed Ruby's knife at his skin. He could feel the demon's hot breath in his ear as he spoke. A bitter metallic taste filled his mouth. The taste of his own blood, he realized. His stomach turned. He could barely hear the words.

Everything went so wrong so fast, he thought.

An hour ago they received a picture of Cas in open coffin with strange symbol branded into his bare chest and an address. It was a cemetery. Quick check and they knew it was a binding sigil that locked his Grace and prevented him from using his powers.

Of course they went right away. And of course they walked right into the trap.

Dean fought like a hurricane, his blade flying relentlessly in all directions. The demons fell and red sparks lit the morning twilight. He asked his question again and again and his wrath was growing every time he didn't get his answer. He was covered with blood and dirt. A deep wound on his shoulder soaked the sleeve of his torn jacket red. All that mattered now was to get the information he needed so desperately.

Then Sam screwed up. He got distracted for a split second and the demon stuck his knife hilt-deep in his flesh. Pain exploded in his head, the world turned, his mouth filled with blood. He felt a hand grab him by the collar and jerk him to his feet. He tried to fight, but his body did not listen to him.

The creature snapped, "How does it feel to stand on your pet's grave!? We can water it with your brother's blood, what do you say?"

Dean knelt in the mud and looked at him with absent expression.

"Choose, Dean. Your best friend or little brother?"

Sam's heart sank as he thought of what his brother was going through at the moment. Though injured, he was here before him and Dean knew exactly how much time was left to try to save him. But Cass was somewhere beneath his feet, under dozens of kilograms of earth and rocks. They had no idea when the demons buried him and hell, thought Sam, they did not even know whether this is the right grave.

Yet, without his mojo, Cas had no better chance to survive than any other person.

"I was there, you know, when they came to get you out of the Pit," the demon continued to talk, intoxicated of his own voice. "It's a shame you don't remember. Castiel, The Terror of Hades they used to call him. Look at him now, almost human, buried alive."

Dean swallowed hard. The thought of Cas imprisoned in a tight wooden box with air that was decreasing with each breath didn't helped him find a way out for the angel. He pushed the image in the back of his mind and tried to gather himself.

"He doesn't look so scary anymore, don't you think?" The bitter words of the demon also didn't help much, only fueled his anger. "Tick-tock, Dean. There is no time!"

"I'm gonna rip your heart off and I'm gonna stick it to your throat!" the hunter hissed through his clenched teeth, "What the hell do you want from me?"

You need to choose.

"I wanna see you suffer, Dean Winchester! I wanna see you squirm."

Sam felt saliva splashing at his skin while the creature growled his words with the stolen mouth of his stolen body. Sam shivered with disgust.

"I wanna watch you fall apart when you choose your brother over Castiel. Because you always will choose him." The demon's grip tightened over Sam's throat and his brother choked, trying to breath. "And most of all, I want to see you staying here on your knees while your angel is dying."

Dean bit his lower lip and tasted blood in attempt not to scream in frustration. Subconsciously, he felt the desperate urge to pray, but his conscious self knew the only one who would answer his prayer actually needed his help. However…

Please, Cas. Just hang on. I'm gonna get you out, I promise.

It is unwise to make promises you can't keep, he thought with Cas's voice in his head.

Moreover, thanks to the binding sigil Cas probably couldn't hear him.

"When I finish with you, you black-eyed son of a bitch, you're gonna beg me to kill you!"

Dean knew at the moment that his threats were nothing but empty, but his wrath was boiling in him. He wanted to rip the throat of the man in front of him, yet he knew this was some poor bastard the demon was wearing. He also knew that with every minute he kept talking the chances of getting out Castiel - alive - of this mess diminished progressively.

"If you want me dead, just kill me!"

His words were born from desperation; he tried to offer himself because he knew that there was no way to make this choice.

Liar. You know you're gonna choose Sammy. You know that if you're sitting on your ass up here while Cas dies down there, that part of you will be gone with him. You will never gonna forgive yourself for this.

"Come on!" the hunter screamed in the rain, kneeling, ready to accept his fate. "Just leave my brother and Cas alone!"

The demon smiled wilder.

"What's the fun about that?" His eyes became black. "I prefer watching you doing nothing while your angel carves into the coffin lid with his fingernails. As panic drowns him and he breathes heavily and fast, burning through his last bit of oxygen left."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart pounding madly in his chest, as if it was trying to make a hole and jump out of it.

"You're gonna die for this, slowly and painfully. Hell will seem like a walk in the park compared to what I'll do with you!"

He had been left with only words. Nothing else. There was no choice, no help.

Please. Please. Please!

He could only gaze absently at the knife, pressed to Sam's throat. Powerlessness tearing him apart from the inside. He wanted to shout but words betrayed him. Remained only was a whisper of his lips, no one heard him.

Please!

The time was priceless, but it was pouring through his fingers like sand, his pulse was ticking away seconds in his chest. One after another.

"Can you see him in your head? How he is fighting for his last breath? His fingers digging desperately in his flesh, scratching the seal, trying to carve it from his chest with his bare hands?" The demon was nearly breathless, the excitement in him grew with every word. "Can you see it? Can you? Because you will see it for the rest of your life. Every night when you close your eyes. "

"You sick son of a bitch!" Dean clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "I'm gonna make you eat your tongue for this!"

Sam could feel the grip on his throat loosen. The demon was too busy spitting venom against his brother and had forgotten that Sam was still conscious. That's what he needed - one second without its attention. He ignored his grief and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife. Pain screamed in his head at the sudden movement, but he tried to suppress it. With his peripheral vision he saw Dean started to get up to help him.

"No, Dean! I got him!" Sam tried to scream, but what came out of his mouth was a hoarse moan. "Find Cas!"

However, he had to turn back to his opponent, who used his free hand to thrust his fist into the wound of Sam's belly. Sam screamed and agony spilled waves all over of his body. He curled into himself, trying to fight the feelin and struggling not to faint. He saw his brother, half upright, hesitant.

"Dean!" the youngest Winchester croaked. His mouth was full of blood. "Go!"

The demon's hand tightened on the fabric of his jacket's collar and straightened him forcibly to his feet. Even with blurred vision, Sam saw that in the confusion the knife flew away. Too far to be reached by any of them. He clenched his fist and swung. He put all his strength into this single blow. The pain screamed again when his fingers met the jaw of the stolen body and when it fell without sound on the earth, Sam lost his balance and fell on top of it.

Hands of the creature thrashed in panic, trying to grab his throat, but the hunter pinned them above his head and pressed his knee into the demon's chest. Adrenaline screamed in his ears, he wouldn't last long in this position; his belly clenched in pain, drops of cold sweat crawled on his forehead. He hesitated only for a moment. The knife was away, there was no way to let the demon out. He glanced briefly at his brother, who had pulled a small foldable shovel from the trunk. Then he was digging.

The creature was tossing under his weight. There was only one chance.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii," his voice was hoarse and weak, but it was enough,"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica ..."

The demon convulsed beneath him. Sam took a deep breath, the world spun before his eyes, but he fought the nausea and continued.

"Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te." The demon's body trembled beneath him."Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare."

Dean heard the voice of his brother, deaf and distant, as if on the other side of a long, dark tunnel. His mind registered the fact that Sammy had pinned the demon to the ground and was trying to knock the bastard back to hell. Part of him wanted to throw the shovel and tear the demon to pieces with his own hands. His mind had nothing to do with what he was doing at the moment. His hands moved alone, eagerly dredged through the soil without the need to invest in the action of his absent thoughts.

Please, Cas. Please!

The words echoed in his head, not sure what exactly was praying for. Perhaps not to be too late? Maybe he was asking that whatever he pulled out from the grave wouldn't be the breathless, limp body of his only friend. Or he prayed the demon didn't lie and that this was the right grave? How wrong those words sounded in his mind. How wrong it sounded. How much like some crazy nightmare that he would wake upfrom any moment, shaking and sweating. Or maybe it was like one of those dreams in which, as quick you moved, it was not enough. Where everything was in slow motion. The muscles hurt almost physically from the effort, but you couldn't made even a single move.

"Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallacies, hostis humanae salutis." He still heard the distant voice of his brother. "Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt ..."

Dean continued to dig, raindrops running down his face like tears. The water came into his eyes and blurred his vision. He nervously wiped them away as he forgot that a few minutes ago his fingers were buried into the ground. His hand left mud trail down his face, but it didn't matter.

For what he was doing he didn't need his eyes. He'd done it a million times. Dean Winchester was digging graves all his conscious life.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine." Sam was talking, the demon was screaming underneath at some weird language. "Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te…"

The tip of the shovel hit something hard and hunter's heart skipped a beat. He dropped on his knees and dug the dirt with his fingers, trembling from the cold and the pressure. His hands felt boards of the wooden coffin.

"Cas?" In his hesitant tone flickered a glimmer of hope while he was cleaning the lid.

He was using the shovel as a lever and putting the full weight of his tired body down on the handle. He heard a creaking sound when steel nails were pulled from their seats.

"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, risque aeternae Perdition's venenum propionate," Sam was nearly over and the demon was screaming threats.

The smell hit him in the face and burned his nostrils. Crazy bastards, was his first thought, they buried him with fucking rotting corpse!

Because the other option... it was unthinkable, impossible, unbearable.

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus… " Sam was at the end of his strength, he could hear it in the drop out of his brother's voice.

The lid open with one long cry and Dean's breath froze in his throat.

"Sammy!" The shout merged with demon's laughter. "Don't!"

"... audi nos!" Sam finished in time.

Hear us, Lord!

The man coughed painfully. The ground beneath the demon-free body absorbed the thick black smoke with a hiss. The grass smoldered, despite the fine drops of rain. His eyes were shut; his body slumped under numbed fingers of the young Winchester. Sam rolled past the lifeless body and sat down, his eyes fixed on deadly expression of his brother's face, uncomprehending.

"It's not him, Sammy." The words barely broke off from Dean's white lips. "It's not him."