Blood Is Thicker...

He was losing his grip, losing his touch. Yesterday had been the last straw with this whole Apocalypse crap. That crazy life he and his brother had was better than that little role playing office scenario. Besides, Dean hated monkey suits and he was no ass clown. Come to think of it, neither was Sammy. This hunting business, it's who they were and when he remembered the look in Sam's eyes when Dean sent him away, it was clear as crystal that he wanted it too. Even though everything was going wrong and Dean felt like he was losing his brother more every damn time that hellhound demon bitch showed up, Dean knew there had to be a way to save Sam from himself. There was nothing on this Earth that couldn't be dealt with, nothing that couldn't be fixed. And if it meant that his little pain in the ass brother was addicted to demon blood or something like that instead of heroin or cocaine, then Dean could deal with that. Ghosts and crap, he could deal with. It was people that were scary.

So, what he had to do was find an addiction that Sam would get into. Something that would draw his attention away from that Hellwhore. Something he wanted, needed and couldn't live without. And that's when it hit Dean Winchester right between the eyes. When Dean died and Sam was here without him, what was it he'd been trying to do? Find a way out of Hell for Dean and he spent every waking minute doing it. He rarely ate, didn't sleep, had that tramp to make him forget when he was too tired to do anything else. Which could only mean one thing. Sam couldn't live without Dean. That was it. That was the key, he had to scare the bejesus out of him somehow. Either that or find a way to get Sam addicted to him. Well, sex was out of the question, they were brothers. Besides, it was illegal in how many states now? And Dad would come back and kill them both so Dean knew that wasn't an option. Sure, even he knew Sammy was hot but Dean only got into chics, end of story.

Dean pulled out his cell and called the only person he knew that would have some kind of answer. Bobby Singer. And when he got off that phone, Dean was smiling from one ear to the other, his emerald eyes sparkling. Why didn't he think of it before? It was easy, almost too easy but damn it was just good enough to work. And the spell that Bobby had given him, he had it written letter for letter on the notepad. All he had to do now was get everything set up before Sammy got back to the hotel room. He spent hours standing on the bed, arm raised over his head and a can of black paint on the nightstand. Boy, the hotel staff would all have puppies by the time they left this place but Dean wasn't left with much choice. He couldn't take Sam back to Bobby's, he'd never leave this room. One look and his brother would know something was up. No, he had to paint that demon trap right here.

Small, black flecks of paint dotted his face and arms but Dean was too busy to think about that. He had the iron chains cinched tight around the posts at the headboard and the ends hopefully hidden just long enough that Sam wouldn't notice them until it was too late and he was caught. With that much demon blood in his veins, the trap should work successfully. Dean rifled through Dad's journal until he came up with the symbols he needed and when he glanced around, he wished there'd been more than four pictures on the walls but it would have to do. Taking each one down, he drew the symbol in white chalk and then covered it back up. A few things were hidden inconspicuously in his duffel, which sat on the hotel table beside the window. The salt would be the first thing he broke out, before his prized silver knife that would end up finishing the job eventually. All he had to do now was sit back and wait. That was the hardest part, Dean knew it could be hours before Sam showed up again, if it would even be that day. Dean looked around the room again, finally nodding his satisfaction at how everything was set up. This would be pulled off without a hitch, even if it might take a few days. They weren't going anywhere, this was more important than anything they could chase out there. This was his brother's life and if they were being chosen for this Apocalypse crap, he'd need Sammy right there by his side. Dean was not doing this alone. For once, he had to admit it. He could not do this without his brother beside him.

"Castiel," Dean called out as he stood looking up to the ceiling, then glanced around. "I know you're here, damn it, I need your help." That last part was a little hard to admit but it was true. If he was going to save his little brother, there was only one pers--Angel, who could step in and finish it. "Castiel!" Dean shouted this time and glared as he looked over first one shoulder, then the other.

"Dean..." came that voice from right in front of him. Dean jumped half a mile high and scowled. "Man, I hate it when you do that!" Dean yelled and Castiel tried to look somewhat apologetic. "Sorry," he murmured with that trademark frown on his face. The one that he tried to pull off as confused or something but Dean knew damn well that Castiel knew what he wanted before he ever spoke his name. "It's Sam. You gotta help me," Dean asked again as he felt his hand clench and unclench. It was his only dead giveaway that he was extremely nervous about this whole thing. "Do you realize what it is you're asking?" Castiel returned, a tilt of his head as he eyed his charge suspiciously. Dean sighed and flopped down in the rickety chair behind him, leaning forward with his face covered by both hands. "I know," he muttered and leaned back, looking up to the Angel who'd saved him from Hell in the end. Ten years a little too late but hey, who was counting? "But it's my last chance," Dean continued. Losing ten more years was nothing compared to saving his Sammy. Bobby already told Dean of the consequences involved.

Castiel noticed that the young man looking up at him now suddenly looked ten years older that day. Ten years. It would take that much from his own life just to do this. It wasn't a deal or a bargain, it was the way things were when asking for this kind of intervention. For His intervention. "For an eternity, I've seen many things happen between families in this place," Castiel began, the ocean blue eyes lowering to Dean with the sorrow that filled them at times. "I have yet to see this kind of love between brothers." Dean shrugged, playing it off as usual but there was something in his emerald, green eyes that shone through to the Angel. He recognized it and nodded his acceptance. Sacrifice.

"It's my last chance," Dean repeated, his voice sounding tired as hell already. "I have to make him believe it's real. I know you can do this, Castiel."

"Close your eyes, Dean," Castiel murmured in his soft, calm voice and Dean simply obeyed. For once.