Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: So… Season 9. I love it already. *g*

I know there's a bunch of reviews I've not replied to – I'll get on that ASAP. RL's been busy, and I wanted to get this up before the second episode aired. (I'm hoping this year I'll actually manage one tag per episode, but we'll have to see.)

Many thanks to SandyDee84, who always has an answer when I ask her for tag ideas, and to Cheryl for the incredibly quick beta job.

Summary: Dean hears a noise in the night, and Sam wakes him up in the morning.

The Egyptian System

Dean wakes up to the sound of movement in the library.

He sits bolt upright in bed, glancing at his cell phone to confirm that, yes, it's two in the morning. If Sam's being an insomniac instead of doing what he was told, which was to get some rest so his body can recover – so Dean can tell him the truth and he can expel Ezekiel and it can be them against the world again – Dean's going to kick his ass.

He slides his feet into his fluffy grey slippers – Dean loves them, and Sam can roll his eyes all he likes, the little bitch – and pads out of his room.

A glance into Sam's room across the hall confirms that, yes, it's empty.

Dean pauses for a moment, eyes flitting from the bare walls to the stack of books – grimoires and bestiaries and codices – on the otherwise empty desk. He suppresses a sigh. Sam likes the bunker fine, but… Maybe Sam didn't bother decorating because, at some level, knew the trials were meant to kill. He certainly didn't sound surprised when Dean told him in that church.

The memory makes Dean wince. It wasn't just momentary frustration caused by the trials, either. That little scene he saw in Sam's head proved it. Sam… Sam was willing to die.

Sam was willing to die after making Death promise that Dean wouldn't be able to bring him back.

And the worst of it is that Dean can't call him on it. Sam doesn't remember, and Dean can't tell him, because then Sam'll want to know how he's alive and then…

Dean's under no illusions. Once Sam's asked the question, he'll figure out the answer. The kid's too smart not to. All Dean can do is hope like hell that Sam doesn't ask until he's strong enough to live without Ezekiel inside him.

Of course, none of that answers the question of what the hell Sam's doing now.

Dean makes his way to the library.

The lights are on. Sam's on a stepladder, rearranging some books on one of the higher shelves.

After pausing to note the fact that the Men of Letters were so awesome that their bookshelves are higher than Sammy can reach, Dean says, "Hey."

Sam ducks his head. "Hello, Dean."

There's something wrong with his voice, something not Sammy.

Dean groans. "Where's Sam?"

"Asleep. He is tired."

"And what the hell are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be fixing him? Get fixing! Man, we're going to have a hard enough time keeping this secret long enough for you to heal Sam without you stopping for book-rearranging breaks instead of doing what you're supposed to be doing!"

"Sam is healing, Dean."

"Not fast enough!"

"Dean –"

"He's my brother! Do you understand that? My brother. And I don't mean that the way you do in Heaven. I mean it for real. And what the hell are you doing on that stepladder? You're an Angel. You don't know anything about stepladders. What if you fall? Get down before you hurt Sam."

Ezekiel sighs, climbing down carefully. "I would have done it the normal way, but I need all my Angelic strength for your brother. Dean, I trust you remember what I said. I cannot promise that I can cure him. I cannot promise that he will live. I do not even understand some of what is happening to him. I will do what I can, but… Some injuries defy even Angelic healing."

"You said he's healing."

"Yes. Slowly. I do not know if it will be enough." He looks around, and there's something wrong about that impersonal, indifferent gaze from Sam's hazel eyes. "Sam is asleep, and I was eager to have something to do. You have a nice library."

"Don't mess up the books. Sammy'll think I've done it and it'll piss him off."

"I am organizing the books. I simply cannot understand how they have been arranged." Ezekiel pulls a book off the nearest shelf and frowns over it. "There's a sticker on the book, and there appears to be some sort of number. I have been organizing your library according to the traditional system."

"The traditional system?"

"Yes." Ezekiel looks like he thinks that should be enough of an explanation. When it clearly isn't, he adds, "The Egyptian system. You must have heard of it. They used it in Alexandria for generations."

"In… in Alexandria?"

"Yes."

"Like Cleopatra's Alexandria."

"Precisely. Though the system I am using was devised under the reign of the… the second Ptolemy, I think. Possibly the third."

"Come on, man! How am I going to explain this to Sam?"

"Tell him you did it," Ezekiel suggests.

Dean sighs.

X

"Dean!"

Dean groans and rolls over.

"Dean! Wake up!" Something smacks his arm. "Wake up!"

It's Sam's voice, and Dean's first horrible thought is that it isn't working, Sam's feeling sick, Sam's going to die –

He opens his eyes and grabs at Sam's shirt.

"What is it? You OK?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

And Sam is fine, or as fine as he can be in the circumstances.

Dean releases his brother's shirt and glares at him. "Then how about not scaring the crap out of me next time?"

"What, waking you up is scary now?"

"Never mind." Dean pushes Sam away and sits up. "What is it?"

"Someone's been here! In the library! Dean! It wasn't Kevin, I asked, and anyway he couldn't have come in without triggering the alarm. Someone's been messing up the books! And I checked Charlie's GPS and she's in California and – Dean? Why don't you care about this? Someone invaded the bunker."

"Um." Dean fights to keep a straight face. "Oh. Yeah. No. That was… that was me."

"You… you've been in the library?" Sam asks doubtfully.

"Hey! I read."

"Yes, but… Why did you mess up the books?"

There's nothing for it. Dean doesn't have a better answer to that question than the one Ezekiel suggested. "I didn't mess up the books, Samantha. I reorganized them."

"Reorganized them how?"

"According to the Egyptian system."

"The… what?"

"The Egyptian system. You know, like Cleopatra used."

"Cleopatra."

"Yeah."

"Cleopatra?"

"Yes, Sam. In Alexandria."

"But… but why would Cleopatra have put the Grolier Codex next to the Aberdeen Bestiary?"

"Damned if I know. We'll just have to ask Cleopatra, won't we? I just do what I'm told."

"But who's telling you?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you say 'but' a whole lot too much, Sammy?"

"But –"

"Look, I asked Cas, OK?" Dean makes a mental note to give Cas a head's-up later. "I just… I thought you'd like it."

Sam's eyes widen and soften in that way he has, and Dean groans. Awesome, now he's let himself in for a chick-flick moment. Not that he minds, not when he considers that the alternative is to let Sam find out the truth and expel Ezekiel and die, but…

"Dean." Sam's voice is soft. "You… Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I wouldn't have done anything if I'd known it would turn into an interrogation. See if I try to do anything nice for you again."

"I'm not… Thank you, Dean, really, it's great that you want to help with the library, though maybe you should explain it to me later because I really don't get it. But it's not that. It's just… Are you sure… This isn't about the church, is it? And what happened there? Because… Dean, you know… I'm not…"

"You don't want to die?" Dean asks, and he tries to ask it lightly but he can't keep a quaver from his voice.

"No, Dean. We're fine."

Dean doubts that – he heard enough of Sam's conversation with Death to know that whatever Sam is, fine isn't it – but this isn't the time. He can't bring it up without explaining, and…

"Make sure it stays that way," he says.

Sam grins. "So you're OK?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

That isn't a lie. Sammy's alive, and a few days ago he was dying and the son of a bitch doctor was telling Dean it was in God's hands, like God's done anything to help them lately. Sammy's alive, so Dean's OK.

"You've seemed a little… worried."

Dean shrugs. "Well, the world's full of Angels running loose."

"Yeah, I guess." Sam turns to go. "You want coffee?"

"Real coffee?" Dean asks. "Grown-up coffee?"

"Yes, Dean. No sugar, no cream."

"Yeah, I could go for some coffee." Sam's almost out the door when Dean says suddenly, "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"You should still take it a bit easy. I spoke to… Cas… and he said even if you feel fine, it'll be a while before your body fully heals."

"Um… Sure. I feel fine, but sure."

Dean hesitates, wants to ask how Sam feels about Angelic possession – in general, hypothetically – but he doesn't dare. If Sam says he doesn't want to be possessed, even hypothetically, it might count as withdrawing consent.

"Sammy?"

"What, Dean?"

"You know… you know, if it had come to that, I would've done anything to save your life, right?" Dean pauses, and then adds emphatically, "Anything."

Sam's eyes soften again. "Yeah, Dean, I know. Good thing it didn't come to that."

He walks off in the direction of the kitchen, and Dean tries not to think about everything that could go wrong.