Honestly this story probably sucks but I couldn't get anything done till I typed it. Please feel free to tell me what you think about this cause I've got no idea what I'm doing. Hopefully now I'll actually be able get stuff done.
Also I don't own Supernatural, I don't have the kind of brainpower for that.
Half a Second Late
Outside the church, Sam could hear the raised voice of his brother and the quiet timber that was Castiel. Finishing the last knot on the chair, he glanced at Crowley, sitting with contempt written on every plane of his face, and decided he was secure. Rising from his crouch, he left to go to his brother and friend. Since starting the trials, Castiel's voice wasn't the voice he had grown to recognize. What Sam heard contained little of his actual vessel's voice in the sound and the more he continued with the trials the more he seemed able to hear the difference between the two. He wondered how he'd never heard the voice under the other; the blazing, penetrating, commanding voice of an angel, buried simply because Cas willed it. And that wasn't all that was different. Ever since the second trial was completed, whenever he looked around his surroundings were like a kaleidoscope of images flickering in layers on top of each other. It was mildly disconcerting at first but he was able to adjust with only the occasional case of bumping into furniture, thankfully without his brother ever noticing.
Opening the doors, the indistinct sounds started to come together and for half a second, Sam wished he had just stayed inside. "-you're asking me to leave Sam and we've got Crowley in there tied and trussed. Now, if anybody need a chaperone while doing the heavy lifting, its Sam." And that was just like Dean, wasn't it? Abrupt and sharp, worried but he was never good at showing it so instead he was harsh. Shifting his feet in the mud, his brother seemed to finally take notice of his presence and opened his mouth, to explain or defend himself, but before he could get a word out, Sam just spoke over him. "You should go. Seriously."
"And what? Leave you here with the king of hell? C'mon." And there was his brother. Brash and angry and afraid of the unknown. And as much as Sam thought he wouldn't make it out of this alive, no matter what he originally thought, he couldn't let Dean know it. Not when they were so close.
"I got this."
Looking beyond his brother, he regarded at this angel that had become like a brother to him. Cas was staring at him with an inscrutable expression, eyes watching him with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable, seeming to look beyond his face. Possibly looking at his changing molecules, he didn't particularly care. Not when there was so much more going on. But looking at his friend, he found he couldn't leave him, not forever, not yet. Call him selfish but he wasn't ready to say goodbye to him. Regardless of what had happened in their past, from his wall breaking down to the opening the door to the panic room, they had both screwed up so much in their lives when all they wanted was to do the right thing.
"Cas, can you promise me something?" At this, Dean closed his mouth and stared at him, eyes boring into his but he refused to acknowledge him. "Promise me you won't complete the trials. Not yet. Wait for Kevin to finish decoding the Tablet, complete the second trial, do something, but don't complete the third. I want to at least get to say goodbye before you're locked up." And boy did that sound cheesy. Like some stupid soap opera that Dean tries to convince him that he doesn't watch. But he meant it. "If the angels are locked, up that'd be a good day. But everything seems quiet for now, do you think you can hold off the family reunion for eight more hours?"
Dean looked like he wanted to puke at the chick-flic moment but Cas just wore that troubled face that seemed to be his default expression. He looked to be debating within himself but he finally nodded and Sam exhaled a breath he didn't know that he had been holding. Sharing one last glance with his brother and friend, Cas' arm fell onto Dean's shoulder and they disappeared into the rain, taking Dean's parting words with them.
If I'm not back in eight hours finish it. No questions. No hesitation.
Now here he was almost eight hours later, with a mostly human demon, a new hole in the window, and a dull ring that was quickly growing into a cacophony in his brain. Preparing to administer the last dose of blood, he had no way of knowing that Naomi was telling Dean and Castiel of what she had extracted from Metatron's head, that Kevin was packing his things in a ratty backpack to leave, or that hundreds of miles away, a forgotten prophet stood in an abandoned hotel, gazing at wing marks that had once belonged to a being of amber eyes and golden grace.
Sam knew none of these things, all he saw was a demon crying, a storm brewing, and a golden light dancing (burning, searing) in his arms. Picking up the needle, he approached Crowley with slow steps, the world tilting around its axis as he made his way over. Baring his neck, the king of hell was a far cry from six hours ago when he was spitting insults and baring his teeth. Smiling internally, Sam injected the blood and threw the needle to the ground ignoring Crowley's grimace. Drawing his knife, Sam drew a cut on his hand while reciting the Latin that he had memorized. Speaking became yelling when he could no longer hear over the dull roaring in his ears and he slammed his hand over Crowley's mouth and instantly Crowley's eyes lit up white and he started to scream.
As soon as the light died down, Crowley's head dropped to his chest and Sam swayed on his feet but then started patting his pockets looking for the Enochian words to complete the trial. Finding the crumpled paper in his back pocket, he forced his eyes to focus and tried to dull the roaring in his ears that had increased to a hurricane. He felt more than heard his lips forming the ancient letters and when he finally reached the end of the page, everything stopped.
His mind was finally blissfully quiet and the world seemed to stand still. Each raindrop outside was highlighted in a surreal quality and the old church was lit up in too many colors some that he hadn't known even existed. A muffled sob drew his attention to Crowley who was hunched over with tears silently falling form his face and lit by some internal light that resembled a candle. But then the church door burst open with all the grace of a gunshot and his new found tranquility was shattered. Standing in the doorway, panic running rampart on his face, was Dean.
Where Crowley had flickered, Dean blazed.
His light reminded Sam of cities burning, with disaster written in every line but still holding a certain beauty to it. Each flicker seeming to have a life of its own, constantly changing and shifting but never dying out. Right now it was everywhere, relentlessly shifting and turning around restlessly with a life of its own, matching Dean in his panic.
Half a step behind him was Castiel and what he saw took his breath away. A being of grace as blue and varied as the ocean. His eyes traced the way the angle seemed to fold into his vessel, wave upon wave gathered into the recognizable form that barely seemed to contain him. And in that form, faces kept shifting—human, animal, and some for which Sam had no name. A part of him, the nerd part as Dean called it, was exhilarated to see something completely new and unheard of while while the majority of him wanted to shrink under the watch of the fearsome faces. With a start he realized that he was seeing Cas, actually seeing him, in his true-form.
All this he took in what seemed for a lifetime but only a second had passed. As his eyes met his brother's, he smiled, but it was no more than a faint upturn of his lips when his world flashed white and agony beyond anything he had ever experienced burned through every cell. A pain so penetrating and prolonged that every part of him seemed to cry out in torment. He dimly felt his knees hit the ground and someone screaming though who it was or where it came from was beyond him. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think but now in front of the pain, a darkness grew with a swiftness that seemed impossible to fight.
The darkness spread until it seemed to block out all else and helpless to stop its call, Sam fell headlong into the oblivion and knew no more.
In the corner, unnoticed by the those gathered in the church, Death stood with both hands resting on his cane. When the skies flashed a blinding, brilliant red signifying the closing of the gates of hell, a microscopic smile played around the edges of his worn face.
Well played my boy.