CHAPTER 14

It was well after dark when Sam returned to Buffy's house, high on Ruby's blood. His veins were thrumming with energy; he felt powerful again, so powerful. Flush with vigor and vitality. Unstoppable.

Buffy and Giles were in the family room when he entered. "Where were you?" asked Buffy, unable to stop her tone from slipping towards accusatory.

"I—" Sam began, before Buffy waved him into silence.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Dean's gone. He just left and I haven't been able to reach him on his cell phone."

Sam's mouth gaped.

"You can clearly see the situation this puts us in, Sam," said Giles, imploringly. "He cannot be allowed to roam in the general populous in his condition."

"I'll call him. Maybe he's just taking a walk to blow off some steam or something. He does that. Sometimes."

It sounded to Buffy more like Sam was trying to reassure himself than either one of them.

Sam hit the speed dial for Dean's cell, not believing his brother could be so stupid, but like Buffy, only got his voice mail. Sam swore, somehow knowing that Dean had managed to get himself into the kind of trouble that he couldn't talk his way out of, something that he wasn't strong enough to get himself out of. That was okay, that was fine; Sam was strong enough now to face anything, though it would've been nice if his brother wasn't such a burden all the time. However, Sam knew he couldn't track his brother down on his own, not in the time frame needed.

Sam looked up at the Slayer. "Is it okay if I invite a friend into your house?" he asked Buffy. She cocked her head to the side in question, but acquiesced. Sam called Ruby, and got through immediately. It was nice to have someone dependable in his life.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I need your help finding Dean, Ruby. Can you come here?"

"Of course, Sammy," she replied in a honeyed voice. "I'll be right there."

Buffy fixed them some tea while they waited, which Sam accepted gratefully. Once Ruby arrived, he explained the situation with Dean, and asked for her help in finding him. "You've tracked him before, Ruby. Can you do it again?"

She smiled down at him beneficently. "Yes, but I'll need a map in order to perform the scrying spell," she said, looking up at Giles and Buffy.

"I'll print one off the computer for you," said Buffy. She returned a minute later with the map and handed it to the dark haired woman. Something seemed off about her, but Buffy couldn't tell quite what it was.

Ruby laid the map on the table and began chanting quietly. She pulled a matchbook from her back pocket, struck a match, and lit the edge of the paper on fire. The flames consumed the map, but not the table or anything else. Suddenly Ruby's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. "Out," commanded Ruby, and the fire died instantly, leaving a small unburnt section of the paper. It placed Dean only a few miles from Buffy's house.

Ruby turned to Sam, her eyes wild. "He's not alone, Sam…Nahemah," she whispered. "I can't stay, I can't…I can't," she says, fear making her voice tremble, backing away slowly before turning and bolting out the door.

Sam met the eyes of the very confused Buffy and Giles. Sam shrugged. The name sounded familiar…something he's read, maybe? "Hold, on," he said holding up a finger, suddenly having a twinge of memory. He raced over to a stack of books, looking for one particular volume. He read aloud "'The mare-witches, also known as the mara, worship the fallen angel Nahemah.'" Sam knew that Ruby was terrified of angels, so it made sense that she fled. But at least now they had Dean's location.

"So…" began Buffy. "Do we pack for angel or demon?"

Sam smiled. He really liked the Slayer.

"Both," he replied.

Giles nodded in agreement.

Buffy and Sam quickly gathered what anti-angel weaponry they could and set out to rescue Sam's brother from a goddess.

The vacant factory seemed completely uninhabited when they scouted it, windows broken and totally dark, but this was where Ruby said Dean would be, and it wasn't like her to be wrong about that kind of thing. She'd been a witch, and Sam trusted that she knew her spells. He and Buffy decided to go in carefully, each watching the other's back. It wasn't as comfortable as hunting with Dean, but it was close. Sam trusted the Slayer, trusted that she was strong enough to take care of herself and that she cared enough about him to save his ass if he needed her to. It wasn't the thirty years of reciprocal ass-saving he had with his brother, but it felt comfortable between them, and as juiced up as he felt, Sam was glad he didn't have to confront Nahemah alone.

Sam gestured toward the door at the far side of the building. Buffy nodded. That was where they would enter, and if all went well, escape with Dean. They moved silently, black clothing blending into the darkness. The building seemed equally lightless on the inside as they moved from room to room. They made their way stealthily through the factory, until they saw a dim light. It emanated what had to be a throne room, as anachronistic as it seemed. It left them nearly speechless. In the middle of a dusty, dingy, used-up building there was an oasis of opulence. An enormous golden throne dominated the room, and upon it sat a woman, beautiful and terrible at once. She had perfect milky white skin, lustrous hazelnut-brown hair, and glowing golden eyes. Her bat-like wings were the color of darkest ebony, and a matching crown of horns encircled her skull, reaching upwards two feet in length.

Sam glanced at Buffy, who was crouched low beside the entrance. They'd planned this. Sam would enter first, and Buffy would get the drop on the fallen angel while she was distracted.

Sam stood tall and walked toward the throne. "You must be Nahemah. You've taken what doesn't belong to you," Sam accused, his voice loud in the silence, confident. Anger trumped any fear he might have otherwise felt. Perhaps recklessly so, but if Dean could belong to anyone, it would be to him; Sam was wise enough to know that his brother could never be ruled. Not without Dean's permission, not permanently.

She laughed, looking like a carefree angel upon her gilded throne, relaxed and languid. "I like you, Samael," she replied, "you've got spunk. But you're wrong, of course. Your brother does belong to me…just as I belong to you."

He cocked his head in confusion. "What?" he asked.

The mara queen on her throne smiled, her lips blood red, as if they were begging to be kissed. "'Samael…the angel of darkness, the great transgressor.' I am destined to be yours, once you ascend to your Kingdom. And when I am yours, your brother will be yours as well."

"Satan. You're saying that I'm Satan," said Sam incredulously.

Nahemah laughed derisively. "Lucifer has nothing on you, Samael. You're what comes after the Devil, and leads all of Hell into a new golden age."

This was not going according to plan. "I didn't come here to debate theology. I. Want. My. Brother."

"Yes, I know just how much you want your brother," she replied slyly. "Come to me, pet," she said, beckoning to a figure in the shadows that Sam hadn't seen before, and still couldn't quite make out in the dim light.

The shadows peeled away as Dean crawled forward on hands and knees, and the amulet heated against Sam's skin. As his brother drew nearer the heat turned painful, until Sam could feel tiny rivulets of melting clay running down his chest. When Dean reached Nahemah's throne, he stood, naked beside her, allowing her to caress his muscular body.

Sam's mouth dropped open and his knees collapsed under him. From the corner of his eye, Sam could see that Buffy had lost control of her legs as well and knelt, her breaths coming hard and fast. He couldn't blame her. Dean was...magnificent, but there was no recognition in his brother's eyes. He might be little more than an animal now, reduced by raw need to his most basic instincts, but whatever Nahemah had done to his brother had rendered him frighteningly exquisite. A crown of ebony horns adorned Dean's forehead and his jet-black wings were spread wide behind him.

He (who was he? Couldn't remember, couldn't think) scented flesh. It wasn't flesh like his Lady's flesh, which was hard and magical and made him lose pieces of himself. This new scent felt familiar and welcome and home, but he didn't recognize it. He (She called him Pet, Tiger, and ordered him to lap at Her like a kitten at milk) unfurled his wings to fully take in the aroma with all of his senses. Tiger purred at the sight of the man who knelt before his Lady. He hoped She would allow him to share in the pleasure of feeding from him.

Something tugged in his chest, a wrenching soreness as if something precious had been ripped away. But that made no sense. His Lady provided all he needed. But Tiger couldn't help the diamond-like tears glittering in the corners of his eyes, any more than he could explain them. His Goddess took care of him, and he wanted for nothing. He fed only from Her, and had grown powerful. Sometimes it bothered him that he couldn't remember anything before Her, but She helped him forget. He thought he'd been content, but gazing upon Nahemah's visitor made him long for more than Her. He folded his wings about himself protectively, hoping She hadn't overheard his thoughts. His amber eyes lifted to Hers briefly, but She was intent on her guest.

"You see?" she asked, a note of cruelty in Her voice. "He is my creature now, Samael. If you would only come to me, be my husband as your destiny foretells, I would gift him to you. I would begrudge you nothing. Only come to me, rule with me. Together we can bring Hell and Earth to their knees."

"Dean! Dean! What have you done to him?" The kneeling man practically vibrated with power, but even that power was nothing compared to the force of his rage. Dean? The…name…sounded familiar. His name? But his Lady called him Tiger, and so Tiger he'd become, and Tiger he was, her adoring pet. If She wanted to give him to this giant of a man, he would obey. Gladly. His cock hardened at the thought of it.

"I turned him, took him, bent him to my will. He put up quite a fight…at first. I taught him to obey, and guess what, Samael? He likes it." She gestured him over with a look, and he took his place, kneeling at Her feet.

Sam tried a different tactic. He stood, tearing his eyes away from his brother and trying to ignore the rush of blood to his cock. At his full height he still didn't reach eye-level with the fallen angel on her throne, but he bluffed confidence really well after all these years. "Ruby told me about you, Nahemah. She said you're a pathetic excuse for a fallen angel; you couldn't rule in Hell on your own merits so you ran away with your tail between your legs the first chance you got."

The mother of the mara hissed at him though fanged teeth, eyes sparking golden embers. "And what would that witch-whore know of ruling Hell? She serves, even now. Don't ever doubt that, Samael. I would serve you, if you would but take up your rightful mantle and claim your throne."

"Why does she keep calling me that?"

"Because it's your name," explained Nahemah with infinite patience, as if speaking to a small child, but a beloved one nonetheless. "'And so it shall come to pass that Samael the boy-king shall be born, in blood and fire, and the four sisters shall be as wives to him, and they shall reign in Hell and judge the wicked forever, world without end.'

"Do I really have to keep quoting scripture to you, child? I am the second you have met, Samael. The second of four sisters, but Lilith turned against us. She waits for Lucifer's return, the foolish girl. The first demon ever made and she weakly wishes for her lover's freedom instead of embracing your rule. But the three of us, my sisters Agrat and Eisheth and I? We have been awaiting your birth for millennia."

"It's Sam," gritted out the young giant between clenched teeth. "Not Samael, not Sammy. Just Sam. I thought that whole "boy-king" bullshit was Azazel's thing, anyway?"

A flash of yellow eyes shot through Tiger's vision at the mention of that name. Sam. Had he known it before his Lady had found him? Yellow eyes…Yellow-eyes…demon. He remembered demons. He used to fight them…before. He recalled that there was a before, but nothing distinctive beyond that. He had…hunted demons. But his Goddess was not a demon.

His Lady sneered at her guest—at Sam. "Azazel was a fool. His endgame would have destroyed this world. I suppose I should thank you for eliminating him for me. A marvelous weapon, that gun." She looked pointedly at Sam. "Such a pity you lost it. I'd heard rumors that it could kill anything." She reclined on her throne, fingers winding in his hair, as if secure in the knowledge that Sam could not harm her. She was playing with him, Tiger realized. He didn't like that. He had an undeniable need to protect Sam. It made no sense to him. Nahemah was his Queen, his Goddess, his everything. When he had known nothing, She had given him light, life, and pleasure nearly unbearable. She had made him powerful and raised him up to kneel at Her side.

The big man rolled his eyes and began mumbling beneath his breath, never looking away from the Lady. Tiger caught a few words, but couldn't quite understand their context. It was obvious the man was praying, though. "Castiel…we…help…now. Nahemah's…brainwashed or something. Thanks…uh…amen, I guess." Tiger snorted. As if anyone or anything could brainwash his Goddess, even Castiel, whoever that was.

His Lady rose gracefully from Her throne, brushing him gently aside but allowing him to nuzzle at Her as She passed. She strode toward where the giant knelt and lifted him so that his feet were barely touching the ground. Tiger gaped at Her magnificence. "Do you think prayer will shield you? Foolish Samael, only I can do that. I would be your armor, your sword, whatever you need of me my love, if only you would be who you were born to be."

Something caught his attention. A blonde woman whose presence made Tiger's stomach do uncomfortable things shifted slightly in the doorway. His Lady's attention was fixed on the man, and the blonde, seeing an opening, moved to attack, a red-bladed weapon clenched in her tiny fingers. Tiger yelled out a warning just as a blast of power sent the smaller woman flying into the wall at the opposite end of the building. He wasn't quite sure in that moment which of them he had been trying to warn.

Sam's eyes followed Buffy's trajectory, making sure she was okay but wasting no more time than that before lashing out with his own power. Wonder how she'd like a taste of her own medicine, Sam thought. The power thick in his veins, as thick as Ruby's dark blood, surged from him, knocking Nahemah away from him with all the force of his will. "Buffy, get Dean!"

The Slayer took advantage of the mara-queen's dazed bewilderment and raced for the elder Winchester, hoping to quickly snatch him away from the bitch and the full scale battle that she could sense was about to ensue. He seemed to be in no condition to help them fight.

Tiger marveled at the feeling of the blonde's (Buffy's?) touch. Her skin was soft and comforting and so unlike that of his Lady, and he felt his body respond. She lifted him gently, as if he weighed nothing, and carried him to the entrance to the throne room. "Dean! You need to pray for Cas," yelled Sam as he fought to hold Nahemah in place, bright red blood running sluggishly from his left nostril. Tiger had another flash of memory: "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Cas…Castiel…an angel of the Lord. He remembered Castiel. Cas would help them. Softly, almost silently, and without knowing quite why, Tiger prayed for the angel's presence.

"Stay here," said Buffy, and he allowed himself to get lost in her green eyes. He thought he might have nodded, before watching her stride over to reclaim her weapon. She gripped the end like an axe and assaulted his Goddess. He wanted to stop her. He wanted to help her. He wanted to fuck her.

He heard a noise beside him like feathers ruffling, distracting him from the battle between the two strangers and his Lady. "Dean…what has become of you?" a voice asked. He recognized that voice. And that name again…that must have been his name, before he'd met Nahemah. Maybe…maybe he could be Dean again. "I thought I would be able to handle this alone. I'd hoped…but I see now that is no longer possible. I must call on Raphael," said Castiel quietly to himself. In the background, metal clanged against metal as the Slayer's weapon met his Goddess's black angel blade.

The noise ceased when Buffy broke off of the fight against his Lady, but Sam was pinning Her to the wall, allowing the tiny blonde to rush over to them. "You must be the angel," she said. Castiel nodded. "Good, Sam needs help. My Scythe was designed to kill Old Ones, not fallen angels."

Castiel watched as Nahemah began to rise from where Sam was pinning her, her black blade hungering to taste flesh. Blood was streaming down the man's face, and he knew the boy would not be able to hold her much longer. "Nahemah," he called, getting her attention, her golden eyes locking with his. "Stop this fool's errand, or I shall be forced to call upon my superiors. You would not enjoy your fate, suffering final destruction at the hands of an archangel. Dean is important to Heaven, we have plans for him."

"I see." She hesitated, head cocked to the side, considering. Castiel did not think she would press the issue, at least not at the present time. She was exhausted from fighting Sam's telekinesis and wounded from the Scythe. "I suppose that discretion is the better part of valor. I swear by Samael's future Kingdom that I will retreat…for now."

"Restore Dean," demanded Castiel.

She smiled beneficently. "No," she answered. "You hold no power over me, angel. He will remain as he is—my pet." The mara queen locked eyes with Sam. "You can scrub and scrub and never wash my touch from him, Samael. This is my gift to you. I have faith that one day you will return to me. In the meantime…." She shifted her gaze to Dean and gestured, smiling wide.

Dean doubled over from the tortuous need that slammed into him. He groaned and sank to his knees. Sam noticed that his amulet, already partially melted, was liquefying rapidly. He glanced over at Buffy and saw the same phenomenon occurring with hers. Not good. Nahemah must have enhanced Dean's lure to cover her escape. A flutter of wings confirmed Sam's hypothesis. Nahemah had fled.

"Get Dean to safety. I will return with Raphael, a healer, once I ensure Nahemah is truly gone,"

Sam heard the second rush of wings, but didn't look up to see Cas depart. His attention was all for his brother. The elder Winchester was kneeling, breathing heavily with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. His amber eyes were throwing out sparks, and Sam could tell that Dean's control was about to shatter. In seconds, he wouldn't be able to control his power or his hunger, and the clay that bound their protective amulets would melt away completely. They'd been a burning presence at Buffy and Sam's throats ever since Dean entered their presence, and once they were gone they would be left unprotected against the raw power of Dean's desire.