Hello everyone! I am back yet again for a new story! This will be a pretty long, multi-chapter fanfiction. I just finished this chapter and I thought I better post it before season 9 airs (ahhh it's so close). I hope you enjoy it and I would be extremely happy it if you leave me a review! I would love to hear what you think of it :) thank you.
Warnings (sorry if I leave something out): Depression, alcoholism, major character death (probably. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it)
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Supernatural or any of the lovely characters :(
This fic will eventually have some Destiel in it.
Chapter 1
Sam was running. He didn't know what he was running from, he just knew he couldn't stop. The only thing he did know was that he was in a forest. So he dashed through the trees, branches catching at his jacket, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn't even know how he ended up in the forest. The last thing he remembered was the angels falling, then bam, here he was. He could see the sun setting on the horizon even though he could have sworn it was already night. The woods seemed to have no end. He felt as though he had been running for hours. Hell, he probably had been, but he could never escape. He wanted to stop, to rest by a tree, drink some water, anything, but he couldn't. What the hell was he running from? He wished he knew, but every time he tried to stop, it was like his legs wouldn't let him.
After what seemed like a life time, Sam reached an arm out to catch the trunk of a tree, forcing himself to pause. He was breathing heavily, sweat trickling down his neck and rolling under the collar of his shirt. Where was Dean? He knew he had been there when the angels fell. He had seen his face, etched with worry. He knew Dean was terrified that Castiel was dead.
Sam leaned against the tree, closing his eyes tightly and running a hand through his messy hair. Dean was right; he did need to cut it. Not that his hair was the biggest problem at the moment.
Sam slowly opened his eyes and nearly had a heart attack when he came face to face with someone he hoped he'd never see again. He jumped, eyes wide, and flattened himself against the tree. "No," Sam whispered, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. "You can't be here."
"Nice to see you too," Lucifer mocked, lips curving into a small, cruel smile.
"You're in the cage," Sam murmured, his brain already frying itself trying to think of a way out of this.
Lucifer sighed dramatically, stepping back to lean against the tree opposite Sam. "Unfortunately that's still true. But not for long."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded, voice rising in pitch.
"Patience, grasshopper," Lucifer grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll find out soon enough."
"How are you even here?" Sam scowled.
"Haven't you figured that out?" Lucifer made a small, disapproving noise in the back of his throat. "This isn't real, Sam. We're inside your head."
Sam narrowed his eyes, pushing himself off the tree trunk. "Where am I?" He paused before adding "in real life."
"In the hospital," Lucifer informed him, looking bored with this topic of conversation. "You've been out for three days. Big brother probably thinks you're never waking up."
"Shut up," Sam hissed, beginning to walk in the opposite direction, boots crunching on dry leaves.
Lucifer followed him, as Sam expected. "Maybe he'll make a deal," he tapped his chin with his forefinger, as if deep in thought. "That would be interesting… predictable, but interesting. How long do you think your brother will last in Hell this time? My bet is fifty years."
Sam spun on his heel, white hot anger rising in his chest. He flung his fist forward only to find he hit empty air.
"Well that was rude," Lucifer's voice sounded from behind Sam. He turned to see the Devil looking calm and casual, eyebrows raised. "Feeling violent, are we?"
Sam took a deep breath before he continued to make his way through the forest, trying to ignore Lucifer.
"Aw, come on Sam," Lucifer pouted. "Don't give me the silent treatment."
When Sam didn't respond, Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Fine. Either way, you can't escape me. You're trapped inside your own mind."
Sam pushed branches out of the way, his mouth set in a hard line. "Dean will find a way to wake me up."
"And what do you think the cost of that will be?" One side of Lucifer's mouth quirked up into a half smile.
"He won't do anything stupid," Sam insisted, even though he knew that was a lie. It scared him sometimes, how far Dean would go to save him.
Lucifer laughed, a cold, harsh sound. "We both know that's not true. We both know he would do whatever it takes."
Sam bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from yelling. He knew that's what Lucifer wanted, so he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Lucifer opened his mouth to try and push Sam past his limit, but stopped short at a small, distant voice. "Sammy! Where the hell are you, man?"
Lucifer shot Sam a smirk as if to tell him 'I told you so' before saying in a voice tinged with fake excitement "there's big brother now!"
Sam ground his teeth together, glaring at Lucifer for several seconds before speeding up his pace. "Dean!" Sam yelled in the direction of the voice. "I'm here, Dean!"
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Dean had only taken a few moments to stare at the fallen angels that were lighting up the sky before shoving Sam into the passenger's seat of Impala and sliding behind the wheel. Sam was gasping for breath, limbs flailing, and it scared the living crap out of him. He was honestly glad when Sam passed out so he could focus on the road instead of his dying brother. Yeah, again. He's dying again and it's all your fault a nasty little voice in Dean's head spat. It should have been you doing the trials. It should have been you that tried to sacrifice yourself. You should have died. It should have been you.
Dean ground his teeth together until he could taste the tang of blood, wishing his brain had an off switch.
He pulled into the nearest hospital he could find and half-dragged, half-carried Sam through the door yelling "help! My brother needs help!"
Two nurses ran over to him, each holding Sam by one of his arms while a third appeared with a gurney. "What happened?" One of them asked, laying Sam on the bed gently.
"Um… he just, uh, collapsed," Dean muttered lamely, never taking his gaze off his brother.
"Uh huh," the nurse eyed him suspiciously, but didn't ask him any more questions. "If you'll just wait in the other room…" she took him by the arm and started leading him to a waiting area, but he pulled out of her grasp, shooting her a glare.
"I'm not leaving my brother," he insisted, already following after the gurney.
"I'm sorry sir," the nurse stepped in front of him, annoyed. "You can't go back there."
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed past her. "That's my brother, lady. I'm gonna see him if I want to fucking see him."
"Sir," she hissed, grabbing his arm once again. "Do I need to call security?"
Dean narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a few seconds. When he realized there was no way she was letting go, he yanked his arm away and sat in one of the many uncomfortable, blue chairs with a sigh. "Tell me when I'm allowed to see him," he muttered.
She nodded, spinning on her heel and walking towards the room Sam was currently occupying.
It was your job to protect him. You failed. Just like you fail everyone you care about. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Lisa, Ben, Bobby, Castiel. You screw everything up.
Dean rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. "I need a drink," he murmured.
Dean didn't have to wait long to see Sam, but it felt like an eternity. When they told him he could see Sam, he nearly tripped over the nurses trying to get to the room. He almost started crying right then and there at the sight of him. His little brother had tubes protruding from basically every inch of his body, causing him to look extremely small even though Dean knew better.
He quickly dragged a chair across the floor so he could sit right next to Sam. "How is he?" he asked reluctantly, even though he knew the answer.
"We've done everything we can," one of the nurses told him sadly. "It's most likely he will not wake up. I'm sorry."
Dean bit his lip harder than necessary and nodded. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure.
"Do you want some time alone with him?" the nurse asked softly.
"Yes. Thank you," Dean replied in a small voice he barely recognized as his own.
The nurse left and shut the door with a quiet click, leaving Dean to watch his comatose brother.
Dean was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. You're gonna wake up. Whatever it takes, I'll do it. You won't die. Not on my watch."
But he will die. And it's all because of you. How can you live with yourself?
"Shut up!" Dean yelled and cringed as he realized he said that out loud. Now he was talking to himself? Perfect. Just what he needed. He was finally going insane.
Dean leaned against the back of the chair, rubbing his eyes until he saw black spots. He knew there was no way in hell he was getting any sleep, so he just stared at Sam, willing him to wake up and wondering what the hell they were going to do about the angels. And if Cas was alive or not. Oh god, Cas. You screwed that up too. You could have stopped him. You didn't. If you can't save the two people you care most about, then what the hell are you good for? Nothing. You're nothing.
Dean waited until morning before he called for help. Sam would have waited longer, but Dean was never a patient person. So he whipped out a small flip phone he had bought at a Wal-Mart and skimmed through his contact list before settling on the one he wanted. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. "Dean? What's wrong?"
"Hey Garth," Dean greeted. "I, uh... well, I need your help. Can you get your hands on some African Dream Root?"
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Two days later, Garth showed up at the hospital, African Dream Root in hand.
"Garth! Good to see you, man," Dean greeted, smiling as if his brother wasn't dying.
Garth grinned back at him, setting the African Dream Root on Sam's bedside table and pulling Dean into a hug. "You too, Dean."
Dean let Garth hug him, unsure of what to do, and brought a hand up to awkwardly pat him on the back. When Garth pulled away, Dean didn't waste any time. He plucked a hair from Sam's head and made a face at how long it was. "Dude, you really need a haircut," he murmured.
"So…" Garth began, walking up to stand beside Dean as he mixed the hair in with the Dream Root. "What's up with the angel stuff? I mean, I've heard things from the hunter grapevine, but I'm not exactly sure what happened…"
Dean sighed, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Cas wanted to close the pearly gates. Turns out the trials were actually to cast the angels out. So, yeah. He did the trials and now the angels are all on earth. That's honestly all I know. I don't even know if Cas is…" Dean trailed off, pretending to be occupied with the Dream Root.
"I'm sure he's fine," Garth told him gently, immediately picking up on the unspoken words. "You'll find him."
Dean just nodded, really not wanting to discuss this longer than he had to. Especially with Garth.
"So, do you think the angels are gonna try to find you?" Garth asked, pulling up a chair and sitting heavily.
"They might," Dean admitted. "I mean, we've fucked up their plans enough times."
Garth made a small noise of agreement.
"I think they're more likely to go after Cas," Dean muttered. "He's the one that cast them out. It wasn't his fault really, but they're gonna see it that way."
"Yeah," Garth nodded. "I guess you just have to find him first."
Dean snorted and turned, leaning back against the table. "You make it sound easy."
"It's definitely not. But it's easier than stopping the apocalypse, which you've done."
Dean rolled his eyes. "That was a while ago. Things are different now, I guess."
Garth frowned at him in confusion. "How is it different?"
We've changed. He didn't say it out loud, but he's sure his facial expression gave him away. I've changed.
He settled on muttering "this isn't a therapy session."
Garth put his hands up in an 'I surrender' gesture. "Okay, okay. Just asking."
Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed, bringing the cup of African Dream Root closer to his lips. "Hey Garth?" he asked, just as the cup touched his brother's lips. "Can you check on Kevin? He's at the bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. You know where it is. I just want to make sure he's okay since all the angels fell and he's translating the angel tablet right now…"
"Sure," Garth smiled. "I'll go over as soon as you're walkin' around in Sam's head."
"Thanks man. I owe you one."
Garth shrugs. "It's cool."
Dean's lips curved up in a small smile as he tipped the cup back and swallowed the contents.
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Dean opened his eyes to see bright green trees circling him. He stood from where he was lying face-down in a pile of leaves, doing a quick three-sixty before starting to wander through the forest. "Sam!" Dean called. "Sammy! Where the hell are you, man?"
He heard a faint voice yell "Dean! I'm here, Dean!" off to his right.
He turned and ran towards the sound of his brother's voice. It only took a few minutes before he could see the huge figure that was his brother bounding towards him. Dean smiled, closing the distance between them and pulling Sam in for a hug. "Man, am I glad to see you."
"You too." Sam pulled back and frowned, looking around as if he'd lost something.
"What are you lookin' for?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sam shook his head like he was waking up from a trance. "Nothing. I just… thought someone was here earlier."
"Who?" Dean responded, worry suddenly clawing its way up his throat.
"No one. It's not important," Sam assured him.
Dean narrowed his eyes but didn't pry. "Right. Bigger fish, I guess."
"Like figuring out how the hell to wake me up."
Dean laughed a bit. "Yeah. Like that."
They started off through the woods, not knowing where they were going, just knowing that there had to be something besides trees here.
"So, have you found out what happened to Cas yet?" Sam finally spoke.
Dean shook his head, staring down at his feet. Of course you haven't. Cas trusted you and you let him down. Again. Big surprise there. "I've been too busy with you. I'm gonna try to call him when we wake up."
Sam nodded, bringing a hand up to clap Dean on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll find him."
Dean forced himself to smile. If he's still alive. "Yeah, I know."
"Do you think…" Sam paused, reconsidering asking his question before deciding he should. "Do you think the angels will try to kill him?"
"Probably," Dean admitted, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. And you can't protect him. If you can't do your one job, then what are you? Nothing. "I think they'll blame him for casting them out. They might come after us too. I mean, we've screwed up their plans so many freaking times."
A corner of Sam's mouth lifted into a half-smile. "True."
They walked for a while longer before Sam stopped abruptly. "Dean? You didn't, uh… do anything stupid to keep me alive, did you?"
"I didn't make a deal, if that's what you mean," Dean muttered.
"Good," Sam whispered. "And, um, if you can't wake me up…"
"Sam, stop," Dean snapped. "Don't."
"Dean, don't do anything dumb. No matter what," Sam insisted.
Dean huffed out a laugh and continued walking, kicking a small rock with his boot. "Whatever."
Sam grabbed Dean's arm, spinning him around so that they were face to face. "I'm serious."
"I'm not gonna let you die," Dean hissed, pulling his arm away.
"You can't die either," Sam murmured gently, trying to keep calm instead of yelling because that never ends well.
Dean rolled his eyes, taking a few steps back. "What does it matter?"
Sam stared at Dean for a few moments, searching for a reply. "What the hell do you mean 'what does it matter'?" was all that slipped out. Yeah, the calm approach never really worked out for him.
Dean ignored Sam and turned to move through the trees again.
"Hey!" Sam snapped, yanking Dean backwards by his shoulder.
Dean glared at Sam, looking like he seriously wanted to punch him.
"Don't walk away. You always do that. Why can't you just talk about this?"
Dean laughed bitterly before saying "I don't need to talk. What I need is for you to wake up. Then I need a drink."
"You can't keep shoving everything down," Sam told him, his voice softening once again.
Dean set his jaw in a way that told Sam he wasn't going to win this argument. "Watch me."
Sam sighed and fell in step next to Dean, silent for the rest of the walk.
It wasn't until they came to a small, run-down cabin that Sam spoke again. "Hey, do you-" He immediately cut himself off when he saw that Dean wasn't next to him anymore. "Dean?!" he yelled, glancing around before realizing Dean couldn't have run away that fast. Sam would have known he was gone. He settled on the explanation that Dean woke up and he was on his own again. So he took a deep breath and opened the door to the cabin.
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Dean hit the floor with a loud crash as his chair tipped back from a hard punch to the jaw. "Damn it!" Dean swore, scrambling to get to his feet and reaching for the knife he kept in his belt.
He only took about two steps before the tip of an angel blade was pressed against his throat. "Dean Winchester," a deep voice hissed in his ear, digging the blade in harder until Dean could feel a thin trail of blood trickling down his neck.
"Sorry, do I know you?" Dean smirked, keeping his voice smooth and calm.
"No." Dean was spun around to stare at the stranger's emotionless, dark gaze. "But I sure know you."
Dean rolled his eyes and tried to step back, only causing the angel to tighten his grip on Dean's shirt. "You're not going anywhere," he growled.
Dean barked out a laugh. "Really? And who's gonna stop me? Just you? Trust me, pal, I've taken much bigger fish."
Dean gets a punch in the face for his trouble, causing his head to snap back awkwardly.
"Do not kill him, Sariel." A woman in a gray business jacket strode into the room, angel blade in hand and long blonde hair cascading down her back in small curls. "You know we cannot."
"I wasn't planning on killing him, Zophiel," Sariel responded coldly. "Although after what he's done, it's the least he deserves."
Can't argue with that Dean thought bitterly, bringing a hand up to try to pry the angel's fingers off him.
He was rewarded with another punch. It landed right on his nose, causing a sickening crack to echo around the room and Dean to clench his jaw tightly, riding out the pain.
Dean kicked Sariel's knee, causing his grip to loosen slightly which was all Dean needed. He punched the man as hard as he could, sending him stumbling backwards. He repeated the action a few more times until one of his fingers popped out of place. He felt a hand on his head, yanking him back by his hair, and he spun on his heel, grabbing Zophiel by her arm and twisting it.
Suddenly Dean felt white hot agony sear through his shoulder. He dropped Zophiel's wrist and scrunched his face up in pain, biting the inside of his lip until he could taste blood.
"Sariel!" he heard Zophiel yell, sounding like a mother scolding a disobedient child. But what would Dean know about mothers anyway?
"What?" Sariel asked nonchalantly. "I didn't kill him! I just stabbed him in the shoulder. It was necessary. He would have killed you."
Zophiel huffed in annoyance before bending to grab one of Dean's arms, motioning for Sariel to get the other. As soon as Dean's shoulder was moved, he couldn't help the small cry that escaped his lips. He felt himself being dragged across the floor as he tried to kick at the angels, even though he knew his attempts were weak. His vision was blurring slightly, but he couldn't pass out. Not when he left Sam alone in his mind again. Fucking angels.
He was hauled to his feet before being pushed roughly into a chair. "Where's Castiel?" Sariel demanded.
Dean raised an eyebrow incredulously, clutching at the stab wound in his shoulder. "Seriously? That's what you want?"
Sariel slapped him across the face. Hard. Inhumanly hard.
Dean spoke after a giving himself a few seconds to recover. "Wait, so you guys still have your mojo? You're not human, just cast out. Like Lucifer, right?"
Dean didn't get an answer to his question. Just Zophiel hissing "we don't have all day, Winchester. Just tell us where Castiel is."
"I don't know," Dean answered, and for once he was being honest.
Dean could swear he felt at least a couple teeth loosen when he was met with a punch to the mouth. He turned and spit a gob of blood onto the cheap tile floor before smiling at the angels. "I was in Hell for forty years, asshats. You're gonna have to get a lot more creative than that to make me talk."
Sariel's expression would have been funny had it not been directed at Dean. "I think you'll find I can be very creative," he snapped.
Dean laughed at that, a harsh, cruel sound. "Give it your best shot."
Sariel picked up his angel blade and stood in front of Dean, eyes blazing. Dean plastered on a smirk to cover up the fact that he was actually pretty freaking scared at the moment. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain that was sure to come, but it didn't. "Sariel, don't," he heard a strong, male voice hiss.
Dean opened his eyes to see a man in a dark blue suit standing in the corner, who he could only assume was another freaking angel.
"Barachiel," Zophiel breathed, looking stunned and utterly terrified at the same time.
"Leave. Both of you. Before you get hurt." Barachiel walked forward slowly, hands stuck in his pockets.
Zophiel vanished from the room instantly. Sariel glanced back at Dean to shoot him a 'we're not done here' face before disappearing as well.
Barachiel stood in front of Dean, gazing at him calmly.
"So what now?" Dean finally asked, the blood pouring from his shoulder finally leaking through his fingers. "Why'd you save my ass?"
"We have larger concerns than finding Castiel. Zophiel and Sariel… couldn't see the bigger picture. They were angry about being cast out. They only care about revenge. I on the other hand, care about your destiny."
Dean let out a loud groan. "Oh god, more crap about my destiny. What is it this time?"
"The same as it has always been." Barachiel sat on the edge of Sam's bed, careful not to touch him. "You are still Michael's vessel. That is still your destiny."
"Buddy, I don't think you got the memo. Michael and Lucifer are in the Cage."
Barachiel shot him an 'I'm not stupid' look. "I understand. But that does not change your destiny."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean snapped, wincing when he shifted his shoulder too much.
"You will see," Barachiel said simply, rising from the bed.
He placed two fingers on Dean's forehead and immediately the pain was gone. Dean glanced at his shoulder, watching the flesh close up before opening his mouth to say something. But when he turned back to Barachiel, the angel was already gone.
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Sam entered the cabin, gaze flicking around the small room. It was empty except for a few chairs scattered around the area and a fire place that was crackling loudly, filling the silence. His eyes settled on a skinny, familiar figure standing in the middle of the room. "Hello Sam," the shadow's voice sounded, calm but strong. "I've been waiting for you."
"Death?" Sam asked quietly, taking a few steps forward.
Death turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Expecting someone else?"
"No, I just…" Sam had no idea what to say. I mean, what do you say to someone who could kill you with a thought? Well, technically Sam was already dying, but still. "So what? You're here to take my soul?"
"That is generally how it works, yes," Death agreed, face emotionless. "But I have decided not to."
"What?" Sam wasn't sure what he expected, but that definitely wasn't it.
"You heard me," Death said in his usual no-nonsense tone. "You have a destiny, Sam. Believe me, I could not care less about that, but I had an agreement."
"An agreement?" Sam felt his heart clench painfully. "Did Dean make a deal with you?"
"No," Death answered, amused.
"Then who?" Sam asked, sounding utterly confused.
"Michael and Lucifer." Death looked vaguely bored at this point.
"But, they're in the Cage." Sam was getting really scared really fast.
"Do you think I am not powerful enough to get in and out of the cage whenever I wish?" Death shot him an offended expression.
"Wait, if you can get in and out of the Cage, then can't you get them out?" Sam furrowed his brow.
"I could," Death answered. "But Michael and Lucifer are stuck on that whole destiny thing. They have a plan that does not involve me releasing them. Honestly, I could not care less about that, but they insisted."
"So what was the agreement?"
"Don't worry, it doesn't involve you or Dean or that angel your brother is so fond of. It is my business."
Sam nodded, relaxing a bit. "Does this mean you're gonna help me wake up or what?"
"Unfortunately, it does," Death stepped forward until he was standing uncomfortably close to Sam. "Tell your brother I said hello. I'm sure I'll be seeing him soon."
Sam narrowed his eyes at that, but only said "yeah okay."
Death placed two bony fingers on Sam's forehead. "Oh, and Sam? I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon as well."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but his vision was fading fast. It only took a few seconds for Sam to collapse on the cabin floor.
Then his eyes snapped open and he was in a hospital bed, his big brother shooting up from his seat and yelling "Sam!"