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It took a while for Dean to find the proper ritual, the one he had used so long ago to summon that lying skank Ruby, and get it set up. He decided, two days after the disaster with Alastair and the Reapers, to summon his little brother. He wanted answers and since he couldn't seem to find Ruby anywhere, not that he trusted her further than she'd let him throw her, so Sam was the next best option. That was how he found himself in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of some large town drawing symbols in chalk on the floor in what looked like a dramatic pattern of artwork or something someone should get as a tattoo. It would make a kickass tattoo too.
The drawing wasn't simple. Minutes turned into hours and his muscled cramped. His neck screamed in protest every time he needed to move it, his head throbbed, and his back felt like someone had poured liquid fire through his veins. At last he was finished, muscles protesting violently when he stood. He took a moment to stretch, trying to work out the kinks out so he could move quickly if necessary. Then he scanned the symbols. Everything had to be exact because a mistake would give the summoned Sam free reign to do what he wished. Once satisfied that his work was correct, he began the summoning. The Latin was roughly and unwieldy on his tongue. It had always flowed so much easier from Sam's mouth. The thought made him falter for a moment but he forced himself to continue. After he finished spitting out the words there was a moment of complete silence. He found himself wondering if the ritual actually worked or if he'd messed something up. That was when the young man with brown hair Sam had apparently chosen as a meatsuit appeared in the center of the devil's trap.
"Really Dean," he asked, sounding exasperated. "You could have just called or something."
"I didn't think Hell had a phone service," Dean snarled and Sam, because after that comment it couldn't be anyone but Sam, blinked, obsidian eyes gleaming at him.
"It doesn't. But I'm not in Hell right now."
"No you aren't," Dean agreed with false cheerfulness. "Instead you're out and wandering around in somebody else's body like you're wearing some kind of costume. Honestly I'm surprised you haven't killed anyone else that cared about you yet."
"Anyone else that cared about me?" Sam asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.
"Yes," Dean said with a vicious grin. "Like Dad."
"Oh I killed my father," Sam drawled lazily, like admitting it was as easy as breathing. "But that isn't who you're talking about. You mean John."
"Who else?" Dean growled, trying to hide his pain behind rage.
"I had wondered why he wasn't here," Sam said, pacing toward the edge of the trap closest to Dean. "Tell me, how did he die?"
"Why don't you tell me?" Dean snapped back. "You're the one who killed him." Sam looked puzzled in response to that, as if he wasn't quite sure what Dean was talking about.
"I haven't seen John Winchester since before I went to Hell," Sam said slowly at last, as if speaking to a small child. "In fact, I don't really remember him."
"...What?" Sam shrugged, not bothered by the outburst. Dean was flabbergasted. How could Sam not remember his own flesh and blood? Granted, Sam and John hadn't always gotten along well but he would have at least thought Sam would have remembered one screaming match. Honestly, he had been suspecting that was the reason Sam had killed John in the first place. Now, finding out that Sam didn't really remember John, Dean felt lost. He accepted easily that Sam hadn't killed their father. Ruby had lied to him about everything else so why not this too?
"Hell erases you," Sam said, drawing Dean out of his shock. "It takes apart everything you were, rips up most the memories or buries them, and then makes you new; makes you better than you ever were." Sam seemed almost smug about this which was sickening when Dean really considered what he was saying. His little brother had been tortured and brainwashed and made into something new and twisted. Worse yet, Sam was proud of this fact.
"What have they done to you?" he hissed, disgusted.
"Made me new," Sam replied with a shrug. "They tried to control me too but they haven't managed that yet. I doubt Lilith is pleased."
"What does Lilith have to do with all this?" Dean demanded. "Everyone keeps throwing her name around like I ought to be impressed but they won't tell me anything."
"Lilith is the first demon ever created," Sam answered with a smirk that said Dean was being particularly idiotic. "She is breaking sixty-six of the thousands of seals that hold the Devil in his cage so she can free him. Then I'm supposed to say yes and she'll hand over my body with a smile and a wave. Next stop, the end of the world." Sam was so blithe and matter-of-fact about the whole deal that it took Dean a moment to process the horrific truth of what he had just been told.
"You're telling me that all this is gearing up towards the apocalypse."
"Give the boy a prize," Sam chirped with false enthusiasm. "And really, Lucifer should have been freed a while ago because the angel resistance here on this good old mudball is pathetic. Unfortunately for her, you and I are made of different stuff. I'm really not sure which one of us she hates more at the moment. Oh wait, that's a lie. I do know. It would be me because you at least she can kill without worrying about recrimination from daddy dearest."
"You and Lilith don't get on then?" Dean asked, knowing he would be amused by Sam's thick sarcasm if it wasn't quite so devastating to hear.
"What did you think Hell was, brother dearest? Fairyland? Everyone doesn't hold hands singing Kumbaya around the hellfire at night." He had a point there. Dean had never expected Hell to be unified but he had expected them to be more eager to have their god running about. "Besides, if Lucifer runs free then I loose my body. And do you really think he'll want demons around after he cleanses the earth of humans?" Sam was smart, Dean had always known this, but seeing his brother's smarts applied to the politics of Hell was like seeing everything Dad had confided in him about Sam and having to kill him if he couldn't save him come true.
"So why are you on earth then?" Dean asked, forcing down the horror and trying to think about his current predicament. The urge to call Bobby, force himself to apologize, and then plead for help was strong after everything first Castiel, then Anna, and now Sam were telling him. "Why not just subvert her from Hell?"
"I was going to," Sam told him seriously. "But then Meg mentioned I had a brother and I Remembered." He said remembered in such a way that Dean could hear the capital letter, as if it were the most important thing in Sam's life right now. "So I came topside. Besides, this way I can get my body back from the Queen Bitch. Now are we done here?" Sam looked ridiculously bored standing slouched in the devil's trap and Dean's head was pounding from everything he had just been told. It was as if someone had just taken the world he'd been existing in all his life and flipped it around.
"Yeah," he grounded out after a moment, knowing he needed some time to regain his equilibrium. "We're done here. For now."
"Good," Sam said with a cheerfully deadly grin. Then his little brother snapped borrowed fingers. The ground quaked, the devil's trap broke, and Sam was gone all within the space of a blink, leaving a stunned and reeling Dean Winchester behind.