Hey all! First off, I hope everyone in the States had a good Thanksgiving! And now that you're all happy with holiday feels it's time for some angst LOL.

This story was inspired by a conversation I had with Sammysmissingshoe who asked if I'd done a fic with Alastair and kidnapped Sam, which instantly gave me a plot bunny, so-here you go, I've written it now :P

This story is set right after "Death Takes a Holiday" and is an AU of "On the Head of a Pin"

On the Edge of a Knife

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

Sam gazed out the window of the Impala as they drove down the dark highway. They'd just given Pamela a hunter's funeral and the smell of smoke still lingered in his and Dean's clothes, making his chest tight at the stark memory of her death, and the warning she had given him about his powers just before she had died.

He glanced over at Dean sitting silently in the driver's seat. He knew his brother was just as torn up about Pamela's death as he was. She'd had every right to blame them. They'd continued to drag her into things and it was only a matter of time before she got caught in the crossfire. That's what happened to everyone they cared about, after all.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache pounding behind his eyelids. He was feeling wrung out after the astral projection adventure, and just wanted to sleep.

Thankfully, Dean seemed to be thinking the same and turned off the highway after a while, and pulled into the nearest motel. He got out to book a room without saying a word and Sam sighed heavily. He hoped that a good night's sleep might help both of them.

Yeah, right, like they could ever sleep.

He startled as Dean came back, and opened the car door to grab his bag. "Got a room," he said. "23."

Sam got out and straightened his stiff muscles, before grabbing his own stuff. "Dean…" he tried but his brother just shook his head, cutting him off.

"Not tonight," Dean said shortly. "Just get some rest."

Sam bit his lip but nodded. He knew Dean wasn't going to want to talk about it now. He was even more pissed off about the whole thing because, according to Castiel, this had been a win. They had stopped the Seal from being broken, but it hardly mattered. Not when they'd lost a friend. Pamela hadn't deserved to die like that. Not for them.

And there was also the haunted look in Dean's eyes, which Sam knew was from seeing Alastair again. Dean hadn't talked about Hell since confessing to Sam that he had tortured souls, but Sam could tell that Alastair scared the crap out of his brother, and he only wished he'd had the chance to take the demon down before he could get anywhere near Dean again.

But Sam could feel the demon blood running thin. He felt wrung out, needed more, but at the same time the thought of that turned his stomach. He clenched his jaw, again remembering Pamela's last words. Maybe he would try to shake it, at least for a while. Maybe then Dean would stop looking at him like he was keeping a secret.

Of course, his brother only did that because it was true. Sam was keeping a secret.

Dean instantly went for the shower and Sam waited his turn, sitting on the bed and scanning the TV stations for any weird news. He stopped after a while, though, too tired to care and simply took his shower and crawled right into bed, casting one last glance at Dean lying in the other bed, back turned to him.

Sam crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.

He hadn't really expected to sleep, but somehow he drifted off. Perhaps his body still needed to recover after the astral projection or something, but one second he was listening to his brother's shallow breathing, and then he was standing in the middle of a forest.

It was peaceful, no foreboding, and Sam took a cautious breath of the crisp air as he looked around, wondering how he had managed to score a dream without nightmares.

"Hello, Sam."

He turned around with a start and saw Castiel standing there behind him, hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

Sam frowned. "What—what are you doing in my dream? Are you really here, or…"

Castiel took a step forward. "I apologize for intruding, but this is the only way I could talk to you without the risk of Dean overhearing."

Sam cast a wary glance at the angel. "Why do you not want Dean to hear this?"

Castiel glanced down, looking torn, and then looked back up to meet Sam's eyes with his piercing blue gaze. "We've tracked down Alastair, found where he's hiding out, but we need help taking him down."

Sam furrowed his brow. "And you want me?" He asked skeptically. It wasn't like the angels had come to him for help before. He thought he was an 'abomination'.

"Your…powers," Castiel said, a bite in his voice showing some disgust as he said it, making Sam flinch. "They may mark you as an abomination, but they can also be useful. Like in this instance. I think we both know that Dean cannot face Alastair. They have…history."

Sam swallowed hard, his throat aching suddenly at the memory of Dean's pain, his obvious inner turmoil, as he confessed to Sam what had happened in Hell. Sam's hands clenched into fists at his sides. If he could repay Alastair even a little of the pain his brother had suffered at the demon's hands, then he would take that opportunity gladly.

"What do you need me to do?"

Something like a pleased expression passed over Castiel's face and Sam frowned slightly, thinking it strangely out of character for the angel to show such an expression, but then, he didn't know him that well either. "I need you to meet me here." He handed Sam a piece of paper and then disappeared.

Sam looked around the woods and then looked at the paper in his hand, seeing an address written there.

He woke with a start, sitting upright as a groan pierced the silence in the room. He glanced over at Dean and saw him thrashing in the bed, head tossing from side to side.

"No, please," he whispered hoarsely before a whimper escaped him. "Stop! Alastair…don't…"

Sam's chest panged and he swiftly swung his legs over the side of the bed and crossed to his brother.

"Dean, you're okay," he said softly, seeing the pain written across his brother's face even in the darkness. "It's okay. You're safe."

He reached out the gently touch Dean's shoulder. His brother started under his hand, gasping a breath, but then stilled, seeming to settle a little.

Sam stayed there for a few seconds, waiting to make sure Dean would stay asleep, before he moved quietly over to his bag, grabbing his clothes and getting into them as quietly as possible. Then he grabbed the demon knife and slipped it into the back of his belt. He didn't know if he had enough juice to use his powers against Alastair, so having a back up wasn't a bad idea.

He almost took the keys for the Impala, but stopped at the last second. Dean would already be pissed enough at him for leaving, he didn't need to make him any angrier by 'stealing' his car.

So he simply hot-wired a car he found down the street and then started off to the address Cas had given him.

He parked a couple blocks away from the address and sat in the car for a moment, suddenly undecided. He knew he wanted Alastair dead—that was certainty—but at the same time…running off and not telling Dean, especially after everything that had just happened, just didn't settle well in his stomach.

Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number, hoping for voicemail so he wouldn't have to talk to Dean right now, but there would be something for him to know Sam was alright if he woke up and found him missing. Dean would still be pissed, sure, but Sam would rather have his brother be that than worried.

As he suspected, the voicemail picked up. Sam figured that Dean had turned his volume off for the night.

"Hey, Dean, it's me, um…look, Cas got in contact with me, and…he needed my help with something. Don't be pissed, okay? I'll be back by morning."

He heaved a breath as he ended the message and slid the phone back into his pocket, getting out of the car before he could change his mind.

He looked around at the place. It was an old abandoned factory of some kind, and the area was pretty deserted. There were just a few streetlights on, illuminating the area dimly. As Sam walked over to stand under one of the light posts, wondering where Castiel might be, the light flickered and crackled slightly, making him reach for his demon knife.

"Castiel?" he called, eyes flicking through the shadows. "Is that you?"

"Castiel isn't here."

Sam spun around as a big figure materialized out of the darkness, an unpleasant smirk on his face. Sam's features hardened as he faced the new arrival.

"Uriel, I didn't know you were coming," he said, giving the angel just as much courtesy as he usually got from him. "Where's Cas?" He looked around, suddenly wary. He had never liked Uriel, didn't like the way the angel looked at him like he was something that he scraped off the bottom of his shoes. Of course, he tended to look at all humans that way. It just seemed to be directed at Sam in particular—undoubtedly due to the demon blood. He was an abomination, after all.

"Castiel, isn't coming," the angel confirmed with some dark satisfaction in his voice. "He has stood in the way of what needs to be done for long enough."

Dread began to fill Sam's stomach. He took a step backwards, hand going toward his demon knife, tucked into his belt, even though he knew it didn't work on angels.

"Is Alastair even here or is this just some plot to get me here alone and take me out yourself?" Sam demanded, steeling his voice to hide his unease.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Sammy boy," a sibilant voice hissed from the shadows behind Sam and the hunter spun around, seeing the demon in the tall, thin, meatsuit break free from the darkness clinging to him and stride forward. Alastair's eyes rolled up into his head, his demon eyes pale in their sockets, as a chilling grin spread over his thin lips. "I'm here, sure enough."

Sam's breath caught in his throat and he snatched the demon knife from his belt, holding it ready. His other hand came up instinctively to try and use his psychic abilities, but Alastair just laughed derisively at him, his eyes mockingly turning back to normal.

"That won't work on me this time, sunshine. You don't have the juice."

"Oh yeah?" Sam demanded, moving his feet into a ready fighting stance, his hand tightening on his knife as he readied for Alastair to make his move.

"He's right," Uriel's voice came from behind Sam, a dark streak of pleasure tinting it. "I can smell it. You're still tainted, but the filthy stench is not as strong. I'm guessing your demon whore hasn't been around to see you lately."

"Then do something! Help me!" Sam hissed at Uriel. "You're the one who called me here!"

Alastair chuckled, causing Sam's blood to freeze at the sound like metal on glass. "Oh, poor little Sammy; you haven't figured it out yet? And we all thought you were the smart one. The halo isn't going to help you. As dirty as it feels to admit it, we had a deal, kiddo, him and I."

Sam whipped around to look at the angel once again. "What? You sold me out?"

"Face it, Winchester, you're no help in this fight. You'd sooner help the demons than the angels."

"Apparently so would you!" Sam snapped, eyes darting everywhere for some way to escape, but there was no clear exit that wasn't guarded by extremely powerful supernatural beings. He was so screwed.

"You watch your tongue, boy," Uriel growled. "I am looking to free my brother."

Sam didn't think it was possible for his blood to freeze even more but it did. "Lucifer?" he breathed. "You're trying to free Lucifer?"

Uriel inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. He is the perfect one to bring us to new power. I have always found his stance…refreshing."

"Meaning the destruction of humanity as a whole," Sam said blandly, the taste of bile in his throat.

"Precisely," Uriel shrugged.

"Isn't that treason?" Sam asked.

Uriel speared him with a sharp look. "It's not treason when there's no one to commit treason against."

Sam swallowed hard, not understanding exactly what Uriel was getting at, but knowing he was in trouble, pure and simple, and he was going to have to think fast if he was going to get out of there alive.

He was really regretting not telling Dean in person what he planned to do now. Of course if he had, Dean would likely be there with him and then they would both be in trouble.

So with only an instant to think, he spun back toward Alastair and swung the blade right at his chest. But the demon only casually snapped a hand up and caught his wrist and spun Sam around, flinging him into a pile of old, broken pallets that were stacked against a wall. Sam hit hard, tumbling among the splintery wood, but somehow he'd managed to keep ahold of his knife in the fall and he scrambled up, hand raised, calling up his powers to fling Alastair aside like he had before in the graveyard. He didn't care what the demon and Uriel said; he knew he could do this.

But as he tried to fling the demon aside, the only thing he got was a sudden, sharp headache. He cried out and slumped, the pain in his head blinding him as he clapped a hand to his forehead and tried again. Alastair just smiled and advanced on him, the hunter's powers having no effect but to ruffle the demon's hair and clothes as if in a light breeze. Sam stumbled backwards until he found himself against the wall and then Alastair simply slapped his out-stretched hand aside with utter indifference, and clamped his cold fingers around Sam's throat, raising the hunter several inches, forcing him to brace himself on his toes, gasping for breath.

"What's the matter, Sam? Can't get it up?" Alastair cooed, obviously enjoying Sam's helplessness. He rolled his eyes. "You and your brother both."

Sam snarled and clawed at Alastair's hand, but the demon simply dropped him and Sam fell in a heap at the demon's feet. He looked up, drawing in a sharp breath, and saw Alastair staring down at him.

"I've gotta say, kid, as sorry as your brother was, I expected more from Azazel's chosen one. I have to wonder what he saw in you."

Sam tried to get to his feet, but Alastair, flicked a hand lazily and Sam was slammed back against the ground with the demon's mojo, unable to move more than an inch.

Alastair looked over at Uriel then. "Well? What do you want me to do with him?"

"Just like we talked about," Uriel said. "Do what you want with him, just don't kill him yet. We want it to look good for Dean—make sure he understands the…importance of fighting this war."

And then Sam understood more fully. They wanted to incite Dean to rage, so that he would fight, and they were planning on doing that by killing Sam.

"That won't work," he tried to tell them. "Dean will kill all of you."

"Will he?" Alastair asked sibilantly. "Are you willing to bet on that, Sammy?"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Sam said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "He'll be here before you can do much of anything."

"That's what we're counting on," Uriel said with a cold satisfaction, then turned to Alastair, disgust on his face, but tempered with resigned necessity. "Do what you want with the mud monkey. We can always put him back together again later if we find we have need of him."

The two shared a glance full of meaning and Sam's stomach flipped, suddenly registering exactly what was going to happen to him. He was going to be Alastair's captive. Alastair, the demon who had tortured his brother in Hell. The one who had broken Dean, who had made him give up, get off the rack, and start torturing souls in return.

If even Dean, Sam's stubborn as hell older brother, could be broken by this demon, then what chance did he have? He may have thought he was stronger than Dean now after his brother got back, but before Hell? No.

Uriel disappeared with a loud flap of wings and then it was just Alastair and Sam there. Alastair let up on his mojo and Sam scrambled halfway up, half thinking of trying to flee, even though he was pretty sure that would do no good. Then he realized the demon knife was only inches from his right hand and he went to make a grab for it, only to have Alastair's foot casually crush his hand. Sam winced and grit his teeth.

"Come on, kid, you know how this is gonna go. May as well resign yourself."

Sam growled and scrambled to his feet again, forgetting the knife, and made one last attempt to bolt.

Of course, Alastair simply rolled his eyes and flicked a hand. Sam felt the invisible shove at his back and sprawled on the ground with a helpless shout. Alastair strode over and kicked him onto his back.

"Where do you think you're going, Sammy?" Alastair asked, a cruel, yet delighted smile spreading over his face, putting a manic gleam in his eye. "The fun is just about to start."

And with that, he reached down to Sam who was feeling nothing but terror, and grabbed him by the front of his coat. Before Sam could even cry out, he was whisked away into the void and everything was suddenly darkness.

Dean jerked awake, chest heaving, a scream dying in his throat, and sweat plastering his shirt and hair to his skin. He surged upright, throwing the tangled blankets from off of himself. His hands were trembling as he lowered his head into them, trying to calm his breathing. He quickly got up and fumbled for the bottle of whisky in his bag and uncapped it, taking a deep, bracing gulp. The burn of the liquor and the dull buzz that came a few more gulps later started to ease the sheer, stark terror of his nightmare.

He'd been under Alastair's knife again, as usual. And then, of course, he'd inevitably picked it up. But it wasn't some random soul this time. No, it was Sammy.

Dean shuddered again and took another long pull from the bottle before he wiped his mouth, taking a bracing breath.

Something was wrong.

He spun around and realized that it was because Sam's bed was empty. He turned the lamp on just to make sure he wasn't seeing anything, but no, his brother was not there.

His sheets were mussed, Dean remembered him going to sleep, but where was Sam now? He wasn't in the bathroom, because the door was wide open and it was dark in there.

Dean hurried to the door, flinging it open and stepping outside. The Impala was still there—which was honestly a surprise. Sam also wasn't in the car. He wasn't in the motel lobby, or anywhere within the vicinity.

Dread began to fill Dean. What if something had happened to Sam? Had he gone out to get some fresh air and been nabbed by something? But surely Dean would have woken up for that.

Unless Sam hadn't had time to fight back or even call for help.

Dean swallowed down bile at the thought of all the possibilities as he hurried back inside to put his boots on. That was when he saw his phone lying on the table where he had tossed it with his keys upon entering the room.

A dark look crossed his face. Maybe there was another explanation to Sam's disappearance after all. Like him running off with Ruby again. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time.

He grabbed his phone, meaning to dial Sam's number and rip the idiot and new one, when he saw a voicemail from his wayward brother.

Frowning, Dean pressed the button to listen to it and his frown and annoyance and fear only increased when he heard what Sam had to say.

"Hey, Dean, it's me, um…look, Cas got in contact with me, and…he needed my help with something. Don't be pissed, okay? I'll be back by morning."

"Oh, like hell you will," Dean muttered. What the hell was Cas doing calling on Sam anyway? He usually went to Dean. He didn't think the angels even liked Sam because of the demon blood.

"That son of a bitch," Dean cursed and looked around the room, half expecting Castiel to pop up out the nowhere like he tended to do. "Castiel, you bastard! If you can hear me, we need to talk. Now!"

He looked around, waiting for the puff of wind that heralded the angel's appearance but there was nothing.

"Cas!" Dean cried again. "Come on, man, I know you can hear me with that angel radio crap. Get your ass down here now, I need to talk to you!"

Dean still waited, to no avail. He finally sighed in frustration, and called Sam. The phone rang and rang, and finally went to voicemail. Dean cursed, clenching his hands into fists. He called again, and this time left "Sam, call me now!" as a voicemail.

He stood there in the middle of the room, looking around helplessly. What the hell was he going to do? Where had Sam gone and why?

And then, he thought that perhaps Cas hadn't called Sam at all. That maybe Sam had just used that as an excuse to go see Ruby.

Dean looked through his contacts and found the demon's number. He had stolen it from Sam's phone a while back for situations just like this one. He hated himself a little bit for stooping to such measures, but he had to find out if Sam was just off screwing his demonic girlfriend and keeping secrets from his older brother, or if he was actually in legitimate danger.

Ruby at least picked up on the third ring. "What?"

"Well hello to you too," Dean grumbled. "I want to talk to my brother."

Ruby scoffed. "Why do you think he's with me?"

"I don't know, because usually when I can't find him, I find out later that he was running off with you exorcising demons with his mind."

"Well, he's not here, goodbye…"

"Ruby don't hang up," Dean growled. "Seriously, I just want to know if he's alright. If he's there, just put him on the phone, dammit!"

"He's not here, Dean, that's the truth. Now do not call me again." The call ended and Dean threw his phone down on the bed in frustration.

But now his worry was starting to win out over his anger. Because if he couldn't get a hold of Sam, or Cas, and his brother wasn't hanging out with Ruby, then where the hell was he, and more importantly, what the hell had happened to him?