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Dean's body ached from the inside out, every last part of it wound so tight it was a wonder he had any strength left for walking, but walk Dean did. His feet had carried him to every part of the island at least twice, and now they'd brought him to the tree Sam had taken from the jungle and planted the last time Dean disappeared.

What, you made me into Arbor Day?

Sam hadn't smiled then, and Dean didn't smile now. Between Sam's screaming absence and Castiel's news, Dean wasn't sure he'd ever smile again. Not once, back home, not once had he taken Sam for granted, and on the island it'd taken all of a year to relax his guard, let himself reach for things that made him happy, and now his little brother was gone. Back to the worst of all possible futures, and Dean was as powerless to save him as a child.

He pushed his fingers over his eyes, holding back the panic as best he could. Sam was out there, fighting Lilith with only Ruby at his side, and Dean was in fucking Margaritaville. With a grunt of dissent, Dean walked forward, head shaking angrily from side to side. They hadn't been through all of this to be separated now.

The fistful of leaves tore easily away from the branch. Dean stalked north with his prize, to the place where the path split four ways. In times past, a left would have taken them to the baseball field where the both of them had played in a way they'd never been able to as children.

He punched rather than dug the hole in the ground.

When the last leaf was buried in the ground, Dean sat back on his haunches and waited. He didn't have anything left to barter with, even if a demon did come, but he had to know.

He had to know if this was truly done.

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Like a town crier was the sound of Dean returning. Every sound had Roger on edge, and when he looked out of his open door this time and saw the outline of his best friend, he tore off in that direction, guitar discarded onto his bed.

"Dean!" He called, unable to keep some of the relief from his voice. He was ripping into the sand in a way that was eerie, like bare hands into flesh, and Roger's brows met in the center of his forehead. "Dean, what are you doing?" His determination was the scrabble of the damned, and his mind went back to the conversation about being hellbound, ticking clocks. Robert Johnson. He still didn't piece it together.

"Hey!" He bellowed in a ditch effort to grab his attention.

Angua didn't know if she should give Dean space, or not. He'd certainly been opposed to every bit of comfort anyone had tried to give him over the past few days, he would hardly even look at her, and part of her wanted to distance herself in some form of self preservation. It would hurt less if it was her choice, right?

Except she couldn't, he was too important, and too much of her wanted to reach out, even if he refused it.

She'd let him leave when they got back, but she was scared and so she followed him. He was easy to find.

"Dean? What are you doing?" she asked, voice hushed.

Dean glanced up, too weary to register the shock of Roger's sudden presence. For a moment, he just looked at him, but Roger's eyes were the same blue they'd always been, and while his face wasn't unwelcome, it wasn't the one Dean had been hoping for.

He blinked at Roger slowly. "We didn't find him."

O-Ren had woven her existence in the search for Sam in and out, knowing she was faster, better on her own. She'd return only to the group of them when she needed reassurance that they were still there.

...no, maybe it was the presence of that kind of grief that would scatter her back into the trees. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, and she held onto her sense of order and sanity as tightly as she could. Maybe she'd go find Sweets, she thought. The last thing anyone needed was for her to have an attack.

But there was no denying the haunted look in Dean's eyes, so she turned into his shadow as best she could as he did-- something with the leaves.

Instead of sagging with sympathy, Roger's shoulders tightened another notch, but he didn't move to touch the other man. He knew how he would feel, how he had felt when people he loved disappeared, abd a reassuring touch on the fucking shoulder just didn't quite cut it.

"Im sorry," he said, stupid as it sounded. "What are you doing, though?" The hole was too small to be some kind of memorial or something.

Dean smoothed the sand over the hole and checked over his shoulder, but the path remained empty.

"This is how I got him back," he said, tilting his head back to watch Roger take that in. "The last time."

"The fuck are you doin'?" I mutter. No accusation, no worry or anger or anything else in my voice. Just exhaustion, but nowhere near as much exhaustion as I can see in the set of his shoulders. I've been banging around the island for two days... with him, with Bobby and Ellen, with whoever the hell else I felt like I could be of help to at the time.

I'm tired. I wanna go home. I can't. Not yet.

"Digging a hole," he answered quietly, and it wasn't the smartass reply it sounded like. Dean was digging a hole - for himself, for the happiness he'd gathered and was now threatening to smash, for the hope that when he turned around, Sam would be there again. All nearly lost and soon to be buried.

"He'd do it for me."

"He's out there, and he might come back. It's happened, you'll be together again," Angua said, throat tightening enough to choke the words as they came out. She knew they were useless in the face of Sam being gone now, but what else could be said? She believed that the lives they lived here were separate from the ones back home, not just some forgotten blip in their timeline. Still, it didn't mean that Sam was gone forever.

At his most alert Dean only found O-Ren when she wanted to be found. Even now, when he was actively looking for someone, it took him a moment to see her standing there and watching him.

"O-Ren," he said. She didn't look much worse for the wear, but he knew she had to be tired. "You should get some rest."

"He's gonna get hurt," Dean ground out, terror he was trying to hard to hold at bay giving the words a rougher edge. "Things are - god." He pushed his hands through his hair, pulling them back when they trembled more than gave relief.

"More fucked than usual back home."

"Last thing I can do," Dean replied. There were plenty of others who could've asked the same question and gotten popped in the mouth for it, but Dean looked after Neil with nearly the same intensity as he did Sam.

Or had. God.

He looked up. Dean didn't think a demon was on its way, but if it was the last thing he wanted it to find was something important to Dean. Something that could be sacrificed.

"You should get out of here."

"Fuck no," I answer simply, and just to prove he's not gonna change my mind, I drop into a crouch across from him. Fuckin' digging my heels in. Just try and make me go.

"What are you expectin' to happen?" I ask, arching a brow. Whatever it is, maybe I'm too stupid and too damn stubborn to be worried. Maybe I just can't leave him like this.

"What?" This was news to Angua. She edged closer, crouching down next to Dean. She took one of his hands in hers, squeezing as though to stop it from shaking. "How do you know?"

Dean's hand hung limply in hers. He felt like he was going to come apart at the seams. If he squeezed hers in return, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep it gentle.

"Cas told me. He's - he's seen a lot more than I have." More than Dean wanted to recount to Angua, that was for damn sure.

"So should you," she replied quietly, without much feeling. It was easier to let just a little bit of the numbness settle on top of everything else. Just don't get lost in it. "I'll sleep if you do."

"Look around you, Neil." He didn't want to admit to it, as much for the folly of it as for the shame, but Dean knew Neil would work it out on his own.

"This is a crossroads. If there's a way to get him back, this is it."

"But he hasn't seen the end of everything," Angua said, trying to keep her voice steady and sure. "You can't control what happens in the other universe, and you can't worry yourself sick over the possibilities."

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, only realizing how filthy they were when the dirt scraped against his cheek.

"Maybe in a little while," he said, and then, because she was just a kid, whatever else she was also, Dean said, "Thank you. For looking with us."

"It isn't possibility," Dean muttered bitterly. "In Sam's world, he watches me die. And he gets sent off to fight a powerful demon, and I don't get to help him."

It doesn't take long to figure it out. When I do, my jaw clinches and I just look at him for a moment or two, until I can keep myself from saying something stupid. Something I'll regret.

Eventually, though, I can't keep quiet. "What the fuck are you plannin' on trading?"

Angua looked down, eyes on the dirt without seeing it. Her hand was bruisingly tight around Dean's, but she didn't register that, either.

He wants a Sam. Says so. Sometimes a Bobby. Sometimes a dad.

"So you are dead, back there," she said, voice dull and chest tight. She already knew, had known for a long time. But it hurt to hear him confirm it.

"Got him back?" Roger echoed, and he rose to his full height, looking right and then left to see if Angua was on his tail or there was someone else seeing this incoherence. He looked both ways once again and realized how the paths met, how they were standing in the middle of what could only be described as a crossroads.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Roger's voice came demanding as he knelt above the shallow hole and pawed the raw leaves back up and tossed them away, very quickly to face Dean again. "You can't do that!"

"I don't know," said Dean honestly. They'd taken the terms right out of his hands the last time, he suspected it'd be exactly the same today if anyone turned up.

"Thought I'd see what was on the table and go from there."

"Sort of." Dean sank his free hand into the dirt, down deep where it was cool. The thought still scared the shit out of him, even knowing it was temporary, and he knew it didn't sit so well on Angua, either.

"I die, Sam watches, and sometime later Castiel pulls me out." He shook his head. "I'm still not clear on what happens after that, but it's not good."

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