A/N: I met yet another straight male today who thinks that Sam and Dean are gay for each other. Not only that, but he still likes the show, regardless. Probably isn't as obsessed with it as I am, but still. He did think it was weird though. I think his exact words were, "I was watching it, and thinking, 'Aren't they supposed to be brothers?'" Hee hee hee. Anyway. New story. Whee! Enjoy. Adios!

-CatJetRat

Summary: Takes place at the end of the Season Four season finale. First part does not belong to me, but to Eric Kripke. Everything after "He's coming" is mine, though. This is basically how I would like to see the fifth season play out, but not how I think it will. Wincest, but that's a given, since, as far as I'm concerned, non-graphic Wincest is canon.

Disclaimer: This story was written for the amusement of the author, and hopefully others. I gain no monetary gratification for writing this. The only gratification I get is the love of my fans, and (hopefully) their reviews.

Chapter One

Lucifer Raised

Sam

"Sam! Sam! Sammy!" Dean's voice sounded far away, so very far away. But Sam could hear it. The first voice he ever remembered hearing smashed through a haze created in Sam's mind by demon blood and pure, unadulterated power. Sam turned away from Lilith, hardly daring to believe it.

"Dean?" he breathed. His heart pounded in his ears as his new blood rushed through out his body. Why was Dean here? Was he going to kill him? And if he was, why now, of all times, when Sam was so close to stopping Lilith?

Sam barely registered Ruby screaming at him to kill Lilith. She seemed as unimportant now as she had a year ago when Dean had first been brought back to life.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice broke through again, and despite himself, Sam felt filled with undeserved hope.

Laughter sounded from behind him, and Sam might have ignored it, if it weren't coming from the one creature he despised almost as much as he cared about Dean. Sam slowly turned his head around. Lilith was snorting with laughter, and Sam felt anger flare within him once more.

"You turned yourself into a freak—a monster, and now you're not gonna bite." She let out another derisive laugh. "I'm sorry, but that is honestly adorable."

The demon blood boiled within him. Adorable, was he? Well, see how adorable she thought he was in a few moments. This is for you, Dean, Sam thought, and felt fury erupt inside of him once more as he thought about what she'd put him through. Sam raised his hand and clenched her rotted, deranged soul. She arched up and gasped, eyes flaring. Sam's eyes felt flooded, perhaps with tears. She pulled away from him and slumped, gasping. Sam squeezed tighter, and if he'd had room for any emotion other than vengeance, he might have been surprised by how easy this was. She gasped, body going erect again, and yanked away once again, panting heavily. Sam dug his fingers into her very soul, tearing it apart like tissue. She arched one final time, and her eyes shone brighter than ever. But then her eyes shone out, and she fell to the side, blood dripping from her head.

Sam lowered his arm, and though he fought for his breath, he felt triumphant. Finally, finally she was gone. The apocalypse had been averted, and now, he and Dean could—

Wait.

What the hell was her blood doing?

Dean

Dean slammed on the door, shouting Sam's name over and over again. Sam couldn't possibly know what he was doing, could he? He couldn't, wouldn't, purposefully bring about the apocalypse, would he?

Dean thought he heard his name spoken in response, but, a few seconds later, was sure he must have imagined it. All he could hear was Ruby screaming at Sam to get on with it. That evil, sadistic bitch. No matter what happened tonight, she was going to die for what she had done to Sam.

Dean grabbed a candleholder and starting trying to break the door down with it. The first time he connected with the door, his fingers slid forward on the metal, and he was jarred to his very bones. Dean ignored it as irrelevant. All that mattered was that he slam down the door before—

The door burst open, and Dean observed three things in quick succession. Sam was lying on the ground, seemingly unhurt, though his face wore an expression of shock and horror. Ruby was kneeling between his legs, clutching at his face. And Lilith was dead. Lilith was dead. Dean's eyes shot back to Ruby, and a hatred that he had never known for anyone, not even for Yellow-Eyes, erupted within him as he jerked her knife out of his belt. She stood up to meet him

"You're too late," she said in a smug, soft voice.

"I don't care," he growled, and barely noticed as Sam stood up behind her and grabbed her arms. Dean's fist tightened on the knife and he slammed it into her belly. She gasped, jerking upward in Sam's arms, but he held on tight as Dean jerked the knife up and twisted it. He watched her face as she died, and felt an indescribable satisfaction as he was finally able to kill her, as he had wanted to from the moment he met her. And the beautiful irony of killing her with her own knife? That was not lost on Dean one bit. He yanked the knife out of her and Sam threw her carcass on the ground. Their eyes shifted about for a few seconds before finally meeting. Sam looked as if he almost expected Dean to turn the knife on him next. As if Dean ever could.

"I'm sorry," Sam choked out, and his voice was so broken and regretful that Dean couldn't bring himself to even try to be angry with him.

Light shone from the middle of the room, and Dean's heart rate, which had almost begun to near calm, sped up again, times a million.

He reached up and grabbed Sam's jacket. Didn't matter that Sam was the one who had cause it. Dean would rather go to hell a hundred times over than leave Sammy here to perish at the hands of Lucifer.

"Sammy, let's go," Dean bit out desperately.

"Dean," Sam breathed, and he grabbed Dean as well. "He's coming."

Sam

Sam wasn't sure what he saw in Dean's eyes when they finally looked at each other. Anger? Disgust? No. None of those emotions fit. What he saw was defensiveness and fear. Dean was scared of him, and was using anger as a defense. The only thing that saved Sam from falling completely under at that look in Dean's eyes, was that he knew what Dean looked like when he was scared of a monster, and what Dean looked like when he was scared of his family hurting him. There was no comparison. Dean was afraid that Sam didn't care about him

"I'm sorry," Sam gasped, and his chest felt torn apart at the very words. As if sorry could even begin to make up for anything Sam had done.

Dean's face went from defensive and scared to shocked in less than half a second, and then resolved a second later. Took him all of a second and a half to decide he'd forgiven Sam enough to worry about their issues later.

Sam froze as light emanated from the middle of the blood circle. Slowly, he and Dean turned to face it, and they both reached for each other at the same time, but for different reasons. "Sammy, let's go," Dean half-growled, half-whispered.

"Dean," Sam said desperately. His eyes shifted along the light in terror, and he wasn't sure why he was stopping Dean. "He's coming," Sam breathed.

Dean looked towards the light as it further expanded. He yanked Sam away from it but stopped trying to get Sam to leave. Dean laid a hand on Sam's chest and pushed him further away from the light and stood slightly in front of him. Sam might have been annoyed by this, or he could have been endeared, if he'd had room for any emotion other than terror and guilt.

Dean shielded Sam's eyes and then his own as the light grew too bright to bear. Moments later, the light vanished with a loud boom, and Sam and Dean were left blinking little spots away as they tried to focus on the man kneeling in the middle of the room, facing away from them. Light fell like raindrops around him. His head was bowed, and curly blond hair covered what they could see of his face. Sam was frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly raised his head. With careful, precise movements, he rose to his feet, staring at his hands. He wasn't wearing anything, and his very skin seemed to shine with the light that had come before him.

"Screw this," Dean muttered, and strode across the length of the room, stabbing the knife, still dripping with Ruby's blood, into the man's back. Or, that is to say he tried.

The knife shattered to pieces as each part of it connected with his back. Dean stared dumbly at the hilt in his hand, and the man turned around slowly to face him.

Lucifer was beautiful beyond any human, demon, or angel they had ever met. His face held an elegant grace that no human could ever hope to emulate, even if they had his exact features. It wasn't his body that made him beautiful. It was his soul. His eyes shone a clear, icy blue, and they cut through Dean's green ones like diamonds slicing through emerald.

"You are precious to one of my own," Lucifer murmured. His voice was as beautiful as the rest of him, tinkling with the music of a thousand songbirds and a million eunuchs. Lucifer's eyes moved from Dean to Sam. He sidestepped Dean and walked up to Sam. Dean turned and lunged around Lucifer, blocking Sam's body with his own.

"Don't you dare touch him, you evil sonofabitch," Dean snarled. Unlike most demons, Lucifer did not flick Dean aside as if he were a fly. Instead, he looked into Dean's eyes again, and almost seemed to want to level with him.

"I mean him no harm," Lucifer said softly. "I simply wish to thank him for freeing me. And, as he holds only you dear in this world, I mean you no harm as well."

Had it been anyone but Sam, Dean might have succumbed to that voice, those eyes, and stepped aside. But it was Sam, and no evil in this world or any other could convince him to leave Sam unguarded while he was still breathing.

Except Sam

"Dean," Sam murmured, placing his hands on Dean's shoulder's gently. "Dean, he won't hurt me. Let me talk to him."

Dean froze in uncertainty, but didn't struggle as Sam carefully pushed him to the side.

Lucifer cocked his head, looking at Sam. His eyes flickered to Ruby's dead body for a moment. His gaze softened even more, if it was possible, and he almost seemed remorseful.

"She was the last of the true believers," he sighed. "Such a pity." He looked back at Sam. "She was the best of you all, my child."

"He isn't your child!" Dean bit out. "And what do you mean by, 'the best of you all'? Who's 'you'?"

Sam shot him a warning glance, and barely bit back a groan at the look on Dean's face. Dean had surpassed fear, and now had a look on his face, a look Sam had become quite accustomed to, hunting with him. It was the look of, 'I don't care how tough you are, I'm gonna tear you apart anyway.' It was a look that usually got them into the worst trouble.

Sam grabbed his hand, and Dean looked back at him, his eyes blazing, as Sam looked at him and silently pleaded. Dean held his gaze for a few moments, and nodded, though he was quite quick to extract his hand from Sam's. Sam ignored this and turned back to Lucifer, who had watched their exchange with fascination. He continued as if there had been no interruption, however.

"You were to be their leader," Lucifer said softly. "Until I came. Now I am here, and you needn't worry about such things anymore. You needn't worry about anything. Go wherever you wish, and be with the one you care for. You will be protected wherever you go while I wipe this pitiful, mistake of a race off of the planet. Angels will live on earth again, and when our Father returns he will rejoice once more. He will finally see that keeping me imprisoned was a mistake, and he will proud again, to call me his best."

"That's your big plan?" Dean said in disgust. "To impress Daddy?

Lucifer's eyes flashed back to Dean, and Sam grabbed his hand again and squeezed. Dean ignored him.

"I can't believe this! All of this pain and suffering is happening because you want to be Daddy's favorite little boy again?" Dean's face was incredulous, while Lucifer's was impassive.

"Yes," he stated simply. "But I have wasted enough time here already. Neither of you is a concern of mine. Be happy with each other."

Lucifer vanished.

Sam stared at the space where he had been, conflicting emotions crashing about within him. Normally, at this point, Sam would be pissed as hell at Dean for antagonizing the Prince of Darkness, and also relieved that Dean hadn't gotten hurt. But…none of those emotions felt appropriate at the moment. At the moment, Sam could only feel fear, and guilt. Fear, not only for what was to come, and the people who would get hurt, but fear of looking back up into Dean's eyes, and seeing the betrayal and pain Sam had left there.

Their hands were still laced, and, before Sam knew what was happening, Dean was slowly pulling him towards the door and carefully sidestepping Lilith's blood. Sam, who only moments before had felt nearly invincible as he faced Lucifer, now felt weak, numbness slipping through his body as he followed Dean. Dean, for his part, wasn't saying anything, rather, was just staying as close to Sam as he could, and keeping a firm grip on his hand.

Sam followed Dean out to the Impala. Sam's heart leapt in his throat at the sight of the vehicle /Home/ and he allowed Dean to gently maneuver him into the passenger's side. Sam sat there, the numbness now completely taking over his senses, and by the time Dean had circled around the car to the driver's side, Sam was fast asleep.

* * *

Sam rode next to Dean in the Impala. Dean was humming under his breath and tapping the wheel. He'd left the music off because he thought Sam was asleep. Sam stared at him through lidded eyes for a few moments, trying not to look at the frown lines on Dean's forehead. He tried to imagine Dean as he'd once been, carefree and silly, full of love for his family and vengeance towards demons. He tried not to see the shadow in his brother's eyes, once so relaxed when they weren't on a job, now haunted by decades of being tortured. For Sam.

Now they were both broken and torn apart. Now, what had once seemed like a tiring, terrible life to Sam, lit only by the presence of his brother, seemed to be the most wonderful thing he could imagine. To be able to laugh and drink and hunt without question, to help people and eat crappy food and watch stupid movies…it all sounded like heaven. It had once been the life he'd longed to escape. Now he'd give anything to have it back.

"Dean?"

Dean twitched slightly, but that was the only sign that he'd been startled. "Yeah, Sam?" he said heavily, as if certain that the words about to escape his brother's lips could only mean trouble.

"Do you think we'll ever get a happy ending?"

Right again. Dean rubbed a hand across his eyes, teeth gritting. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what kind of ending could be happy for us."

Sam fell silent, though his heart began to pound fiercely with a kind of dread. "What's the most perfect life you can imagine?" he asked softly, like they were kids again imagining their futures.

Dean swallowed, and while he stared straight ahead at the road, Sam saw his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

"A life that doesn't have you in it," Dean hissed, and Sam barely had time to see as Dean shoved a hand into his belt, pulled out Ruby's knife, and plunged it into Sam's stomach.

* * *

"Sam! Sammy! Hey, Sammy, wake up!" Dean's voice sliced through Sam's conscious once more, and Sam jerked awake. He looked over at Dean, whose forehead was creased in worry. Sam grabbed his stomach before he realized what he was doing, and let out a heavy sigh as he realized that there was no stab wound there. /Just a dream/

Dean regarded him almost warily, but didn't ask about the dream. "Come on," he said instead, and opened the car door. Sam looked out the window shield. They were stopped outside of a dingy motel at a pit stop. Sam slowly got out of the Impala, his heart pounding once more, though he wasn't positive why.

Sam followed Dean to one of the rooms. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling, and the nine marking their room number 19 had fallen sideways on the door. They entered the room, and Sam sat down on one of the beds, staring at the blank television screen. He was vaguely aware of Dean moving about, laying salt down and other protection items. He was hyperaware, though, when Dean sat down on the other bed, staring at him.

Sam knew that avoiding talking to Dean about everything that had happened was the worst possible thing he could do in that moment, but that didn't mean he had to look forward to it. Sam shifted around on the bed until he had turned to face Dean. Dean's expression was no longer one of fear and anger. Instead, he looked almost like he had when Sam first starting having visions. Slightly wary, and worried.

"I'm sorry," Sam blurted out, before his mind was even aware that his mouth wanted to talk. "I'm so sorry. This…all of this is my fault. I was an idiot, and I believed her, but she lied to me the entire time we knew each other. I…I thought she cared. I thought I could trust her." Sam shook his head. "You…you're the only one I can trust. The only one who's always been there for me. And I threw it away—I threw you away, and I'm so sorry. I know you said you were done trying to save me—but please, Dean. Help me."

Dean's face had been almost impassive the entire time Sam was speaking, but as Sam finished, a small frown formed on his face. "Sam, when did I ever say I was done trying to save you?"

Sam swallowed back the tears that were coming to his eyes. "In your voicemail. You said I was a freak. You implied you were going to kill me."

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell are you talking about, Sammy? What message? The only message I left you was me saying I was sorry for calling you a monster."

"Wha—no!" Sam cried, pulling his phone out and dialing voicemail. He handed the phone over to Dean as the message replayed, and he could kind of hear the message again from the phone. Tears fell this time as Sam was powerless to stop it.

Dean, on the other hand, was looking angrier and angrier as he went through the message. When it was over, Dean stood up, and said, "That explains why I could reach you at first. The angels wanted me to call you so they could distort my message and leave you thinking I hated you. Sam, I didn't say any of that. It's all a lie."

"You didn't?" Sam hardly dared to believe his ears.

"No," Dean growled. "I told you I was angry, and sorry, and I spent that entire night trying to get back to you." Dean looked angrier than ever, his fist clenching around the phone as he had half a mind to crush it to pieces. Sam grabbed his hand to stop him, and Dean looked back down at him. Dean dropped the phone, gripping Sam's hand more tightly, and lowered himself to his knees.

"I will never be done trying to save you. Do you hear me? Never. Even if I get angry and hurt, I will always come around. I will always come back to you. Sometimes," and here Dean let out a little snort, "sometimes it's easier if I have someone remind me. But I'll never be through with you. Not ever, not really." Dean reached a hand up and gripped the side of Sam's head. "You're stuck with me, Sammy."

Sam's tears got the better of him once again, and he dissolved, for the first time in a long time, sliding off the bed and into Dean's welcoming arms.

Nothing had, and nothing would ever seem this right. Sam couldn't believe that he had ever for a second envisioned the possibility that Dean didn't know him better than anyone, that he could ever run away from Dean and be happy.

Dean

Dean closed his eyes, laying his head on top of Sam's. Hearing Sam say those things, that he thought for a moment that Dean could ever kill him—those word spoken from his little brother's lips damn near tore his soul apart, in ways that Hell had never done.

All he wanted was this. His brother was with him again, depending upon Dean to take care of him. And Dean more than happily obliged. Because as long as Dean helped control Sam's fate, and Sam helped control Dean's, there was nothing they couldn't do together.

Including stopping Lucifer.

A/N: I'm probably going to be working on this fic all summer long. I have found in the past, that when one is working on a fanfiction in anticipation of their favorite show/book coming back out, it helps make the time pass quicker. Because I'm going to desperately try to finish this fic before the next season starts. Gods, I love Supernatural. Anyway, thoughts? I'd love to get some scrumptious reviews to whet my writer's self-obsessed appetite. BTW, I'm looking for a beta, so if any of you lovely reviewers are betas or know a good beta, I would love some recommendations. Next chapter comes as soon as I can wrestle my muse into compliance. Adios!

-CatJetRat