This is my very first Fanfiction story. This story takes place after the last episode Season 8 episode 16 Remember the Titans. I do not fear constructive criticism so don't be afraid to hold back.

I'm trying to get back into the groove since it's been so long since I've written. This story has been tweaked and for those who have been waiting for the denouement of the story, my apologies - here it is, completed.

It's obvious I don't own anything otherwise I wouldn't be on this site. Hope you enjoy.

The Way Out is Through

Sam was losing his appetite. Food just didn't seem to be a priority anymore and with the persistent coughing of blood and chest pain it was gradually becoming difficult not to show his discomfort.

The bunker was wonderfully spacious; but ever since the first trial, it gave the illusion to have shrunken in size as Dean had become increasingly aware of his pretense to hiding his discomfort – this new level of Dean's observations towards Sam was denting his pride. Dean watched his every move and for a while, Sam was doing a great job of assuring Dean (even himself) that everything was alright. But with the stress his body was having on his mental state, Sam was much meaner than usual, snappier and he couldn't seem to focus much on anything other than getting his breathing under control and not stir up his new shadow in the shape of his brother.

Trying to act normal for Dean was frustratingly hard and tiresome work.

Sam's morning routine would be to cough himself awake. Then he'd wash himself up sneaking a few more coughs in the safety of the sound of the shower, get dressed and head straight for the library. He'd chose a book (or books) to read for the day, settle down at the desk and stare at a page unseeingly for 10 minutes until Dean appeared from the kitchen offering breakfast and fresh coffee, snapping him out of the stupor.

Afterwards, Dean would wolf down his meal while watching Sam take one bite in the space of 20 minutes, absentmindedly moving food around the plate then eventually giving up the facade. Pushing the plate aside he'd pull his book closer almost as if to shield himself from Dean's watchful gaze.

Sam would hear a deep sigh and he'd peek through his bangs. The look on Dean's face spoke volumes, but Dean would nod to himself and purse his lips, not allowing himself to indulge in his feelings of pent up rage and genuine worry knowing if he did, it would most likely turn into an unhealthy argument full of wrathful words and flying fists.

Although seemingly, today was a different ball game because Dean had had enough of keeping the peace. It was painfully obvious it was getting them no where.

"Hey, er, Sam? You're doing ok. Right?" Dean stared at Sam's head.

"Mmm." Sam continued reading, not bothering to move his eyes from the page.

Dean cleared his throat a little miffed by Sam's rudeness. Dean moved from the wall his back was resting on and placed his mug of coffee beside the book Sam was reading, trying to get his brother's attention or at least some reaction.

"What is it you want Dean? I'm not in the mood to play games."

Dean snorted aloud.

"Really, you not in the mood?" Dean was going to take advantage of this. This was good. This was progress.

"Yes."

"Well, you never seem to be in the mood for anything these past couple of weeks. Why is that?"

Finally Sam looked up from his book but faced the bookshelves, wanting to avoid Dean's gaze. He felt uncomfortable.

"Stop trying to think of a lie Sam. I know something is going on with you that you're obviously doing a crap job of trying to hide from me. I've got ears Sam and I'm sure as shit ain't blind." Dean's eyebrows rose, eyes burning a hole where Sam's face should be. 'I dare you to lie to me, I dare you' he thought. "Talk!" He demanded.

Sam appeared to be on the verge of spilling the truth but then his face changed and Dean watched as several walls slammed shut before him. A sickly sinking feeling pulled in his gut as his brother slowly got up from the desk to leave.

Dean moved swiftly in front of his brother, blocking his path.

"We're talking Sam whether you like it or not. I deserve to know what's going on."

"Oh, so you're telling me that Mr. 'no chick-flick moments' finally wants to talk about feelings. How comforting." Sam sneered and moved away from his brother. Dean stepped right back in front of him.

"Don't patronize me, Sam."

Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Look, I know you're worried about me and I get it. I do. But… you don't need to be so leave it alone alright?"

"No. You're not fine like you've told me I don't know how many times already. I know you and if I'm right, all this," Dean moved his arms out around Sam, "has something to do with the trials."

Sam ran his hands through his hair and breathed through his nose, keeping his anger in check. 'God,whydoes he have to be so fucking persistent?'

"Leave. It. Alone."

"Or what?" Dean challenged. He's ready to punch it out of his brother if he has to.

Suddenly Sam doubles over and begins coughing hard. Dean's eyes are like saucers, unsure of how to handle the sudden turn of events. Sam moaned in pain as the coughs continued on harshly. Blood freckled the floor. Dean lightly gripped onto his brother's shoulders trying to at least be of some assistance.

The coughing stops. The silence is deafening as they stare at each other unsure what to say to one another. Dean looks at the blood on the floor. He is so, so mad right now.

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" he replied incredulously. Sam rubbed at his aching chest looking away again.

"This is bad. Like… hospital bad!" he rubs a hand down his face. "After everything you told me about you wanting to live and that you can see the light and all that bull-"

"Dean."

"No Sam! I mean when were you going to tell me about this, huh?"

"Dean?"

"Just don't Sam. No more lying!"

"Dean just shut up for a sec! I think your phone's ringing." Dean turned his head in the direction of the sound, his jacket resting on the back of a seat, listening to his phone calling for him from his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the caller ID and pressed the green button sending Sam a warning look of 'this isn't over'.

"Hey Kevin." Sam looked up at Dean sharply. He could hear Kevin's enthusiastic voice on the other side as Dean nodded apprehensively, agreeing here and there to whatever he was saying.

"Sure Kevin, we'll be there as soon as we can." The call ended. For a split second fear passed Dean's features.

"What's up."

"Kevin wants us to meet him. He's worked out the second trial."

…

The drive to Kevin's was quiet. Painfully so.

Neither brother was prepared to break the ice or at least try to understand each other and at this point, Sam wasn't surprised. Dean always found difficulty trying to comprehend Sam's actions. Deciding to take advantage of the trip, Sam napped.

As they gradually drove closer to their destination the more Dean grew nervous. His eyes would flit over towards Sam and then back at the road, hands squeezing the wheel until his knuckles turned white. For some reason Dean knew this new trial was going to be hard on Sam. With the way he's been acting lately like he could sleep for eternity and then the coughing up blood, Dean was mentally prepared to call the whole thing off and find another solution.

Finally arriving, Dean parked the car a ways back from the dock as to not call attention to Kevin's rusty boat hideout. He shook Sam awake.

"We're here."

Sam rubbed exhaustion from his face, coughed and then got out the car. Dean followed suit and took the lead, Sam trailing behind. It seemed Dean needed to feel in control of the situation at the moment and Sam was going to at least give him that solace.

…

As the brothers walked into the room, they were hit with the smell of old coffee - almost a dozen dirty mugs were placed around the room unwashed. Paper littered the table and surrounded Kevin as he sat in his seat jotting something down. Dean could tell just by looking at him that he hadn't been taking good care of himself.

Dean walked over greeting him.

Kevin jerkily moved towards them with a lopsided sided grin. "Hey guys, what's up?"

Face pulled in confusion, Dean shook one of his Kevin's pill containers. There was no sound and he nodded his head. Kevin was high.

"You called us remember?" Kevin looked between the two brothers, lost. Dean watched him expectantly waiting for the penny to drop… and then it did.

"Oh yeah!" Kevin yelled breathily, "Wow sorry, didn't mean to shout. It just sorta—yeah. I finally worked out the next trial. Gosh it took some figuring out."

Sam moved closer to Kevin listening intently.

"What is it?"

"Well…" Kevin ruffled through some sheets of paper on his desk. Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes.

"Got it! Um, it says you would need to save a soul from Hell." The paper held in Kevin's hands vibrated as he shook. "This soul would have to be undeserving of such a place and you would need to have a bond with this soul, whether it be- blood or love. That kinda thing." Sam nodded. Dean crossed his arms.

"What do I have to do?"

"The point of this task is to somehow convince this soul to want into Heaven." Kevin gathered a few notes and handed them over to Sam. He took them reading with his brows close.

"Thanks Kevin." Sam replied and pointed at the notes he was handed. "What, are these incantations?"

"Yeah, they're for entering and leaving Hell, there are other incantations also, everything you need to know is there."

Sam nodded approvingly and breathed deeply.

"So, do you know anyone down there who wasn't supposed to be there?" Kevin asked sheepishly. Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Dean felt sick to his stomach remembering the time he made the deal with Death, having to choose which brother to save. He'd never been able to forgive himself, even though he knew he had no choice. Kevin noticed how they didn't want to share much else so he continued.

"Sam, I don't know any other way to say this to you—but you would need to torture a Demons soul."

"What?" Dean boomed.

"The host would have to be dead so only the Demon resides. It says that the torturing only stops when the Demon prays for God or is open to God."

"That sounds impossible! I mean getting a Demon to pray for God. What the hell?" Dean looked at Sam exasperated. Kevin took a few steps back.

"Look guys, I don't make the rules, I'm only the translator. Anyway when you've completed that you'd need a willing psychic to take your mind to Hell and pull the soul out and into the body of the host." Kevin turned and walked around his desk to sit down. "All you need to do is touch the soul, so the psychic is only there for connection into the other realm. When you've done that you have to try and achieve the even further impossible which is to convince this damaged soul to go to Heaven."

Sam snorted. "I'm not sure any psychic is going to just willingly do something like that. They'd have to be crazy." Dean eyebrows furrowed together.

"That would make us crazy, Sam."

"My point exactly."

Kevin burst out laughing.

"Ha, well I'm just as crazy as you guys!" Kevin's breathing sped up. "I mean, I've been working non-stop on this tablet which meant I had to do a lot of pill popping and Coffee drinking, I- I feel my body literally vibrating – all this discomfort is for you two and the Man upstairs. So at some point I've got to be honest with myself and admit that I must be nuts!"

"Yeah and you've had enough pills to put down an elephant. Go rest." Dean commanded, staring at Kevin pointedly.

"Rest. Mmm, that sounds good."

- So, what do you think? Please leave a review. Thanks.