Stars End Bar and Grill?

A breeze, more so than the ventilation system of the bar flits across their table. Stirring the napkins at first, but then getting slowly stronger. The air temperature begins to fluctuate, first cold. So cold you can see your breath, then hot...so hot you wish you were in the deep freeze. Sparks begin to dance across metal surfaces, and lights flicker.

A voice, not unlike that of Jo whispered Dean's name. A play on his past, just something to get his attention. "Dean." The voice faint, but surely the man heard it.

The wind is getting stronger now, the spark more intense. The windows themselves are bowing inward, like the bar itself is about to implode. A table behind them turns over, and two of the server droids retreat to their place at the bar.

Dean stiffened, sitting straight up in the chair, instincts kicking in at the first sign of trouble. His first instinct was to protect Spade who sat across from him, but then he heard that voice, her voice, whispering to him, beckoning him like a ghost from beyond the veil, but it couldn't be her. That was impossible.

He flinched, tossing up an arm as the atmosphere itself inside the bar seemed to come alive with an evil presence. He stood to shield Spade from whatever it was that was coming, ducking his head against any flying debris. He knew they had to get out of there and quickly.

"Dean," The voice whispered again. "I need you, I want you." The glass shatters suddenly and the wind picks up, sending debris and other things flying, but pulling Dean out of the place, quickly, and like a thunderstorm in his home state, as quickly as it came, the storm is gone. His friend at the table, left alone.

A snap of fingers, and there's a green cooler at Dean's feet. "I believe this is what you had in the Impala" Help yourself to a beer, I never cared for them."

"Not in the mood, thanks."

A wave of hand and that cooler fades away. "So be it," he leaned back. "You Winchester boys, are a pain in our ass."

Dean flashed a sarcastic smile. "We try."

"That bitch come to you for ways to kill me" Or did you go to her for ideas and help from her kind?" He reached up and smoothed a hand through his hair.

"I don't see how it makes any difference." The .45 was still in his hand, though for now, it was resting against a leg. "You're going to lose, you know."

"Her kind cannot deal with me, Dean. They are too weak." His brows rose then and he returned that same smile to Dean. "Are you so sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Because if you touch one hair on her head, I'm gonna make it my life's work to hunt you down and kill you."

"She spreads her legs for everyone, and you worry for her safety' The noble hero protecting little more than a common whore?" He laughed outright then. "I could squash you like an insect where you are."

Okay, he'd had enough. Play time was over. Dean lifted the .45 and drew down on the demon's head. "I might not be able to kill you, but I can guarantee it's gonna hurt like hell."

He flexes his fingers, using his power to press into Dean's chest the feeling of being crushed by a falling boulder, or worse. "You see, I am trying to be civil yet you make these threats."

He squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds into the demon's face at nearly point blank range, before he winced and doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.

He laughed, though now it was gurgled with blood where the bullets ripped through his face, and out the back of his head. "You are right, that does sting. But, you just killed some poor sap that was walking outside of the bar not minutes before I brought you here."

Dean's face contorted in pain, even as he tried to bring the gun up for a third shot. "What are you talking about?" he asked, through clenched teeth. Silently he was screaming for Cas. Now would be a good time.

He eased up, allowing the man to take a breath. He wasn't ready to kill him yet, but that gun was snatched away, to keep more shots from being fired. "This suit..." He pulled out the wallet and looked at the ID with his one good eye. "Paul Dennison. I just borrowed before I brought you here."

"His unlucky day, I guess."

"Did you put the thoughts into Greg's head of killing me?" Then what was left of his brow rose. "You are a sociopath. Alastair would be proud. Killing some poor guy that was on his way home to his wife, Tammy, and their children. Shame on you, Dean." Dean took a breath, straightening a little, one arm clutching his middle. A brow arched at the demon's accusations. "I didn't kill him. You did."

The demon's face started knitting back together slowly. "No, I assure you, he is quite alive in here."

"What do you want' You wanna analyze me?"

"Why did you put the notion in my son's head to kill me?"

There was that cocky grin again. "Hm, let me think. Maybe because you're an evil son of a bitch that doesn't deserve to live. But that's just a guess. You know what?s gonna happen to you, Abby?"

Another flex of fingers. "Listen to me, boy. I'm near top of the food chain. Lucifer wants his war, Michael will kill him. My reign begins. Hell will be for the demons, no more angelic leadership. The Hell you were in will look like the Magic Kingdom."

He ignored the demon's retorts and continued. "One day Greg is gonna get some balls and when he does, you're gonna be yesterday's news."

"Oh, really' You should see what he's done with the Summer Court. Did some redecorating."

"The Summer Court isn't my concern," Dean lied. His statement was only partially true. In truth, he had bigger concerns, but that didn't mean he didn't care. He just couldn't let the demon know that. "I think we're done here." He moved to get out of the chair. "You have Daddy issues, take it up with Greg."

"He is only half blood. He will never take my place." He just smiled then as he reached for Dean's head. "I should just rip your head from your shoulders now." He was no more done with speaking than the floor above them creaked and moaned as a large chunk of it came crashing to the floor behind them and sending bits of concrete and clouds of dust their way. Greg is standing there at the top of the rubble, looking down at them both.

Dean was riveted to his chair against his will by Abaddon, and then the ceiling literally caved in. He took advantage of the moment by kicking the demon's chair out from under him.

"Dean, you shouldn't be here," Greg said. "But it is nice to see you."

Abaddon stumbles forward, landing on Dean and sending them both to the floor. Abaddon raised one arm up and brought his fist down hard into the middle of Dean's chest.

He didn't have a chance to answer Greg as he found himself on the floor, the air knocked out of him by the demon's fist. He answered the blow with one of his own, a fist flying into the side of the demon's head.

"Glad you could join us, Son," Abaddon said smiling to Greg, and Greg only started toward them both in time to see Dean's fist slamming into that meaty, bloody side of the demon's head. "Really Dean' You shot me, now you want to tickle me?" He swung back at Dean's head. He was starting to not hold back. Thinking that he would indeed try to remove the man's head.

"Enough!" Greg stepped forward, and grabbed Abaddon's arm, only to find himself flung easily over his father's head and into a concrete support.

The man's body who the demon had occupied fell senseless and dead to the floor. There was nothing Castiel could do for him, but it wasn't too late for the other two.

"Coward," he accused the fleeing demon before looking to the two who had fallen at the demon's hands. He went first to Greg, leaning down to see if the man was still breathing.

Greg wasn't moving, but breathing was barely visible. His face was swollen and from the look alone, you could tell he had numerous broken bones.

Cas hesitated a moment, knowing that Greg harbored demon blood in him, but it was not his place to judge, only to help. He reached out and pressed two fingers against Greg's forehead, willing him to heal.

Greg's eyes open up, and he's staring at the trench coat wearing man, wondering who he is.

Cas reached to help Greg to his feet. "Are you all right' We don't have much time."

"Where is he?" He stands then, looking at Cas. "I feel fine. I suppose I owe you thanks for that?"

"Gone, for now, but he'll be back." Cas looked over at Dean, a concerned frown on his face, and then started toward him.

He looks around, then at Dean. "Holy crap, Dean." He too moves a little closer but stops just looking at him. From the corner of his eye, he sees Dean's .45 and moves to get it, since he was told there wasn't much time left. He figured he would need the back up. "Is he okay?" Asking Cas, as he stepped back toward them.

Dean didn't look good. He was pale, barely breathing, clutching his chest where the knife had ripped into him, blood pooling around him. He felt like someone had tried to tear him in two. He tried to heave a breath, coughing and tasting his own blood. He knew unless Cas acted fast, he was a goner. In his delirium, he heard a voice, vaguely recognizing it but mistaking it for someone else. He looked weakly up at Greg, tears on his face. "S-Sam?"

"You don't belong here, Dean. Neither of you do," Cas said as he crouched down beside Dean's battered and bloody body.

Greg was about to answer his friend, but then hears the other.

Cas looked up at Greg, knowing there wasn't much time. "What is your choice?"

"My choice?" Greg was a little confused. "You just said I don't belong here, and that he's coming back. If he's coming back and you have a way to get us out of here, take it, and let's go."

Dean coughed again, weaker this time, and Cas turned back. "Come here," he told Greg, as he laid a hand against Dean's shoulder.

He walks over to Cas, looking at the man and his friend.

"Is he okay?"

"Cas..." Dean whispered, his voice weak and barely audible. "Take me home."

Cas nodded his head, a solemn expression on his face, and he reached for Greg's hand.

"Cas?" Greg starts thinking about all that's happened, then takes the man's hand. "As in maybe Castiel?"

"That is my name." It was the last thing Greg heard before there was another flash of blinding white light and the three of them disappeared, leaving only wreckage and the dead body of some unfortunate passerby who the demon had chosen to possess. They could have been anywhere. Rhydin, Earth. It didn't matter. What was done was done. It was time to go home.

**********

Life it seems will fade away Drifting further every day Getting lost within myself Nothing matters, no one else

I have lost the will to live Simply nothing more to give There is nothing more for me Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be Missing one inside of me Deathly lost, this can't be real Cannot stand this hell I feel

Emptiness is filling me To the point of agony Growing darkness taking dawn I was me but now he's gone

No one but me can save myself But it's too late Now I can't think Think why I should even try

Yesterday seems as though It never existed Death greets me warm Now I will just say goodbye

("Fade to Black" - Metallica)