Title: Thicker Than Blood

Summary: An AU extension of Devil's Trap. The Demon decides a deal is in order: One Winchester for the others. Unabashed hurt!Dean.

A/N: I know it went the way it did for a good reason, but that doesn't mean a part of me wanted to see it go this way. :P

"But the truth is, they don't need you! Not like you need them."

Dean felt his cocky smirk slip a bit, and he could practically feel Sam's guilt from across the room. Twisted and mangled or not, the truth was the truth. Even as he cried out silent denial at the words, he felt the knife in the back of his heart slide in a little deeper.

"Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

This hit a little closer to home, and the Demon was clearly not done.

"You think John wouldn't trade your life for Sam's in a heartbeat? He knows you can't protect your brother, not like he can. You were a mistake, Dean, in every sense of the word. Daddy and mommy didn't want you, didn't plan you. Sam, they wanted him. They planned him. He's the only one John cares about now."

The pained smile that Dean had forced on his face finally fell completely, his eyes searching those sickly yellow orbs for some sign of deception, for anything that would prove it was lying. But deep inside that still-soft part of his soul, he knew it was the truth. Twisted, yes. Mangled, yes. True, yes.

"Do you get it now, Dean? Do you understand? You are never going to be anything but the consolation prize in this family. You're desperate for John's approval, aren't you? But you're weak, pathetic, only able to take orders in a last ditch effort to earn the love of a man who's always wished you dead," the Demon whispered close, its words reaching Dean's ears only.

Dean's lips trembled slightly, his eyes taking a brighter sheen than normal, and he swallowed hard as he stared at the Demon.

"You've got a point to make? Then make it," he bit out lowly, his words a bit less arrogant than usual.

That despicable grin came to the Demon's face again, and Dean found himself having a hard time separating his father's features from that of his most hated enemy's.

"I'll make you a deal, boy. Give up, fall apart. Let me slaughter you the way I've envisioned for the last twenty two years. And I'll let John and Sammy boy kill me with that pain in the ass Colt."

Dean blinked quickly, horror and fear battling against relief and desire. But distrust reigned for the moment.

"There's no promise you could make that I'd believe, you son of a bitch."

The Demon chuckled and shrugged its shoulders.

"That's true. But it's either that or I kill all of you."

There was a few moments of strained silence, and Dean finally asked, "Why?"

The disappointed look that etched over his possessed father's face was all too familiar.

"Because I'm tired of dealing with you, just like everyone else. John sees your life as a fair trade for Sam's, for your mother's. I see mine as a fair trade for your excruciating death."

Dean swallowed again, bile and fear welling in his throat. He glanced over the Demon's shoulder and took a long, hard look at Sam. His brother's face was puffed up and bruised, his right eye swollen half shut. The anger that had dominated his features since the revelation of their dad's possession was giving way to the same fear that Dean felt.

"You promise you'll let them go?" he whispered, his gaze coming back to lock with those bright yellow ones.

Grinning in triumph, the Demon nodded. "My word, boy."

The hunter jerked his chin in the Demon's direction and added, "And you do it. Leave dad. Knock him out, pin him against the wall, do whatever. But you let him go." At the Demon's small nod, Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly as he nodded.

Hearing a scream and a roar, he kept his eyes shut. He knew what he would see if he opened them: his dad's back arched, mouth wide open, black smoke pouring from his body and solidifying next to it. He'd seen enough exorcisms to know.

So when he opened his eyes again, he wasn't surprised to see his father dazed and held tight to the wall by invisible forces. He was equally unsurprised to see the black humanoid shape with those familiar yellow eyes standing in front of him, sneering. The bonds on his body fell away, and Dean had to lock his knees to keep his legs from trembling. Giving the Demon a cursory glance, the hunter stepped carefully and slowly around him, heading towards the table that held the Colt. He took it gently in his hands, his surroundings surreal. He ran his fingers over the intricate carvings on the barrel, the hunter in him appreciating the detail and precision that had gone into the weapon's crafting. Nausea grew in his stomach as he set it back down on the small table. He turned to his dad and noticed the man was just coming around, his confused eyes trying to make sense of the situation.

Dean walked up to him and gave him a barely controlled grin.

"You feeling all right, dad?" he asked softly, his mind knowing the physical wounds the man bore but his heart unsure at the emotional wounds he was carrying.

Blinking quickly at his abrupt freedom, John glanced around, taking in the Demon, Sam's immobilization, and Dean's apparent immunity. His older son could see the moment his memory returned.

"Dean, don't you do this. It's nothing but lies! It will kill all of us!" John snapped, fear and anger warring for control of his features.

Dean grinned a bit, his relief at his father's usual line of thought obvious.

"Gotta try, dad. Look after Sammy for me. Did my best, you know. Always did my best," he whispered, his deep personal well of self-loathing bleeding into his words.

The shock on his father's face nearly undid him, and he turned quickly. His eyes darted over to his brother, and the fear on Sam's face multiplied exponentially when he saw the resignation on Dean's.

"What the hell's going on, Dean? What the hell did you do?" Sam bit out, his words panicked.

The heavy sheen in Dean's eyes gave way to a silent stream of tears as he gave his brother a watered down version of his usual smile. "You take care of my baby, you understand, Sammy? Not a scratch on her or I'll come back and kick your ass."

It was Dean Winchester's version of goodbye and I love you.

He turned back to the Demon, whose eyes glowed malevolently in the dim cabin.

"Your blood vow, you fucking evil son of a bitch."

A massive blade appeared from nowhere, hanging in the air before the dark apparition. It struck quickly at the Demon's outstretched hand, black blood oozing from the shallow wound.

"My vow," the creature said, and the knife disappeared.

Blinking back tears and uncertainty, Dean nodded slightly and let his arms hang loosely at his side.

"I'm yours."

The first blow came hard and swift, an invisible fist smashing against Dean's face. Before his head had even finished its snap to the side, another punch came from the opposite direction. The force was enough to spin the hunter and drop him to his knees. He coughed lightly as blood pooled in his mouth from where he'd bit his tongue.

A sudden force pushed him hard to the floor, and his instinctive need to brace his fall put his right arm in the way. There was a loud snap as the pressure was instantly too much for his humerus, and the air in Dean's lungs left in a silent groan as the sharp pain radiated through his shoulder. The pressure released, and the hunter took the moment to roll onto his back, cradling his right arm against his chest.

Blood still ran freely from his newly split lip and nose as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the next blow. It came from nowhere, a force to his gut that felt suspiciously like a steel toed boot. It hit his side, again and again, the Dean bit his tongue hard to keep his cries inside. There was a nearly inaudible snap and crunch, and a final blow slammed him into the side of the cabin, just a few feet from where his father was pinned.

Between the shadows in his vision and the blood pounding in his ears, he could just barely make out the sight of Sam fighting against the Demon's hold on him, Dean's name on his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as a too-deep breath made his shattered ribs grind against themselves. His reprieve was short lived, and he dimly felt a force start building behind his eyes and in his chest. It grew rapidly, pressure giving way to agony, and Dean grabbed his head with his left hand and pressed his broken arm against his chest, vaguely aware he was screaming.

He could hear other voices join his, his father offering his own life for Dean's, his brother promising the depths of hell if the Demon didn't stop. The pressure in his head faded a little but the pain remained, and Dean choked on a gasp. He felt warm wetness flow from his ears and the corners of his eyes, and the smell of copper intensified as he felt blood running down his chest. He felt his body jerk upright and slam against the wall, the ever-observant part of his mind realizing that he was back where he'd started.

His head bowed, he gagged on the blood that was flowing down the back of his throat and welling up from his lungs, the crimson liquid spilling over his lips and dripping to the floor. He looked up shakily, and he saw his brother and father flinch out of the corners of his eyes. The Demon, however, just grinned, freakishly bright white teeth offset against the darkness of its being.

Above the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Dean could still hear his father's pleas, the begging words odd in his hearing. Casting blood-tinged eyes to the man, he whispered, "Dad, please."

Please, let me do this.

Please, let my sacrifice be enough.

Please, protect Sammy when I can't.

Please, love me.

John's words died away, tears pricking the edges of his eyes at his son's anguish. He seemed to hear what was said, what was unsaid, and agreed to all of it. Dean watched his throat tighten a bit, a forced but immensely proud smile brand itself over his face, and he nodded slightly.

Dean turned his attention to his brother, who was still tearing at his telekinetic bonds like a wild man. He barely paused his frenzy when Dean murmured his name.

"No, Dean! Not this way! It's not worth it! It doesn't come before you! Nothing does!" Sam shouted, tears tracking steadily down his face.

If his brother had any energy left to smile at the sentiment, he would have. But he could feel his body starting to succumb to his internal injuries, his heart beating slower and slower. He gathered the last vestiges of his usually unflagging stubbornness and pushed through it for a moment.

"You do, Sam. You always will."

There was a gnashing of teeth as the Demon abruptly slashed its arm forward, the ghostly knife it used before in its smokey palm. Dean barely felt it penetrate his skin, slicing through flesh and scratching past bone. He didn't hear the low thump as the tip of the knife embedded in the wall behind him, the blade nearly in perfect alignment with his heart. An instant later, the pain hit him, and he gave a strangled gasp as the innermost barriers of his mind were breached by the all-encompassing agony his body was encased in. Salt tears mixed with blood as they raced down his face, and he heard a dark chuckle in his ear.

"This was a fun game, Dean Winchester. I look forward to seeing you in hell."

Dean opened his eyes, unaware he'd closed them, and he fixed the creature with a gaze of real terror. After everything he'd done, all the evil he killed, all that he'd given to protect everyone, that was where he was destined to be for eternity?

But images flashed in front of his eyes – Sam learning to ride a bike, John teaching them how to fish – and he found strength in those memories.

"Race you there...bitch," he gasped, and the Demon's eyes narrowed. The creature pulled back and seemed to suddenly take in the situation anew, possibly considering something it hadn't before. Its grin grew larger, though, and it leaned back in.

"On second thought, this game has barely even started."

There was a sudden rumble and before Dean could blink, the demon had vanished into thin air. Agony of a non-physical kind flowed through the hunter. The Demon was gone, out of range of his brother's anger, his father's vengeance, and the silver bullets of the Colt. And the blazing truth that was his greatest fear, his biggest weakness, burned itself into his psyche as his mind folded in on itself.

I failed.

When unconsciousness beckoned him close, he responded without resisting.

The Impala sped along the dark deserted road, the car steady despite the shaky hands on the wheel, as though she knew the danger her loving owner was in. She tore around curves and her tires ate up the miles as though her engine was starving. Obstacles were avoided easily, and nocturnal wildlife fled from her loud purr and bright lights.

Inside the car, John kept his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes darted between the road and the rear view mirror. In the internal dome light, he could see his youngest son clutching his older son tight to himself. He could see the blood, the pale skin, the bright tears. Sam was pressing a thick towel to his brother's chest as he whispered nonsensical words of comfort into his ear. Dean's eyes were open, his green gaze locked with his father's in the mirror. John could still hear those tearful words coming from his solid-as-a-rock son's mouth.

"Dad, please."

He knew everything that his son was asking then. Just as he knew what his son was silently demanding of him as he tore through the midnight to the safety of the hospital.

Please, don't do anything stupid.

Please, let me die in peace.

Please, let the promise I exacted from the Demon come to pass.

John knew blood vows just as well as his sons did. If Dean died, the Demon would have no choice but to show up and stand still while that Colt tore a hole in its head. The sacrifice that Dean made would let John and Sam's call of revenge fall silent.

But for as stubborn as Dean was, John had made an art of it.

No, son.

With that thought, he pressed the gas to the floor, speeding towards the growing light of civilization, as he thought of all the ways to save his boy, the Demon's death be damned.

Well, my first SN fic. Planning some more of this particular story while I'm trying to appease the dust bunny muse that's got me going on another story. Kind of rushed, but I wanted to get something down and out. Let me know what you think!