Prologue

Sam thought carefully about the choices he had. And made his decision. Sam said, "you're pretty powerful, huh?" He forced himself to relax and lose his threatening posture.

The Trickster smirked. "No kidding. Haven't you realized yet?"

"Powerful enough to keep my brother out of Hell," Sam continued, "undo his deal completely."

The laugh was mean and low. "Nice try. No cigar."

Sam casually set down the stake, the one he had just stabbed the Trickster's Bobby with. "Yeah? Why not?"

The Trickster bristled. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Of course you don't. You're powerful, like you said." Sam paused, carefully structuring his next sentence. "You altered reality completely for the last six months, at least for me. Felt real, as far as I can tell." Sam kept his gaze level. Calm. "For all I know, you could be the source of all the trickster myths . . . Unless, well, you're just one of the trickster gods."

The god? demi-god? drew himself up proudly. "I am the true Trickster. None can compare to my power."

Sam nodded agreeably. "It must have been nice. Getting all of that worship, back in the day."

The Trickster's eyes gleamed. "Blood sacrifices were the best," he said. "You going somewhere with this?"

Sam took a small step forward. "You don't get that kind of attention, anymore. Hey, maybe a couple professors talk about you to their class. Maybe some movies base a character off of your archetype. But no real devotion. I'm one person, but I could offer that. Completely and unreservedly. And all you would have to do is keep one person out of Hell. Unless that's too hard for you?"

The Trickster scowled. "I invented reverse psychology, boy, don't mess with me."

"I'm not," Sam reassured him. "All I want is my brother's deal gone. You're my last chance."

"It would be more fun to watch him burn," the Trickster dismissed. "Forget about it."

"Would it really?" Sam took another step. "You watch people—annoying, stuck-up people—go to Hell all the time. You help them along. So, what difference does one innocent person make? Dean doesn't really deserve that. And you may love to play tricks and see people fall in pride, but that's not why Dean's going to Hell, is it?"

He got an appraising look. "You didn't go to school for pre-law for nothing, did you, Sam?"

Sam held back a shiver at the uncanniness of how much the Trickster really knew about him.

The Trickster was the one to step forward this time, and Sam refused to step back. "You really are serious, aren't you? I mean, Dean is supposed to go down. That's the way the cards are supposed to fall. You telling me you want to change that? Things could go badly, changing the future like that."

Sam shrugged. "Are you telling me you're scared to change destiny? You're the Trickster. Destiny can be made by you."

The god actually looked a little flattered. "So, what do I get out of this deal?"

"What do you want?" Sam asked cautiously.

The Trickster's eyes glittered, and he stalked forward, slowly beginning to circle Sam. To keep himself from flinching, Sam made himself to remember the numerous Tuesdays spent watching his brother die. And so many more spent completely alone.

"You are right. I do miss having the complete devotion of the masses. Granted, they were rather misinformed masses, but it was entertaining, at least. You . . . oh, we can have fun with this."

Sam had never felt more like a piece of meat as the Trickster looked him over. "I won't kill anybody," he told the Trickster haltingly. "That's my one condition."

"Ruin my fun." The Trickster didn't actually seem upset though, and he stopped in front of Sam, reaching out and tilting Sam's face back and forth. "You know you remind me of someone."

"Yeah?"

"Greek guy. Name of Heracles."

"I'm not Greek," Sam said dumbly.

The Trickster rolled his eyes. "I was about to compliment you and say you might be higher on the IQ scale than the guy, but maybe I was wrong. Ever hear of Heracles's labors?"

"Hercules?" Sam checked.

The Trickster waved a hand. "Tomato, tom-ah-to. So, that's what I want. Ten labors."

Relief was making Sam's legs weak. "So you'll do it? You'll stop Dean's deal? He won't go to Hell?"

"Unless he becomes a serial killer, I think you're set," the Trickster confirmed.

"And if I fail in the ten labors?"

"Dear old Dean goes to Hell."

Sam swallowed. "What if I die in the course of the labors?"

The Trickster shrugged. "We can call that one a win. He'll remain free if you kick it."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

A flash of anger twisted the Trickster's face before it smoothed out. "Blood pact. Strongest magic there is. You do the ten labors, and I'll keep your brother out of the pit."

In a blur of movement, the Trickster slashed his own palm before handing a pearl-handled knife to Sam. Slowly, Sam did the same, taking the god's outstretched hand in a strong grasp, feeling the sting of the cut and a strange surge of cold in his palm.

"I'll be seeing you, Sam Winchester."

Sam woke up. It was Wednesday for the second time.

And Dean was alive.

A/N: Hey guys, new series that I did for a big bang (which was strange, but fun!) I'll try and remember to update daaaily? maybe? but we'll see. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Also, art for this by amberdreams is on the masterpost at my tumblr (which is lan-ri) and it's awesome, so check it out!