Dean blinked, and found himself back at Bobby's.
One moment he, Sam, and Bobby had been staring at Cas, listening to him order them to profess their love. The next, he was standing in Bobby's living room, surrounded by the familiar smell of Old Spice and whiskey. But there was someone else in the room. He could sense it.
"Alright you three?" A familiar British accent asked from behind him.
Dean turned. Crowley was standing there. Bobby was attempting to support a slumped over Sam long enough to get him to a chair.
"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now." Dean growled at Crowley.
"How about he was doing my bidding. Not to mention he just saved your life, and that of your friend and brother," a dark voice hissed from the chair behind Bobby's desk. Death was sitting there in his typical black suit, Tessa the Reaper standing at his side. Death motioned at Bobby. Tessa went over and helped him get the unconscious Sam to the window seat. They laid Sam out, resting his head on a pillow.
"Now. Be civilized. I need to speak to you. All of you." Death looked pointedly at Crowley.
"Fine." The Demon sat in an old, rickety chair and crossed his arms.
"I hate to interrupt this little pow-wow, but you are aware the 'New God' is, at any moment, going to descend upon this house and most likely turn it and everything inside it into a pile of ash?" Dean finally spoke.
"Dean," Bobby growled, looking pointedly at Death.
"It's alright." Death sighed contemptuously. "Dean, remember what I told you in Chicago."
"You told me a lot of things in Chicago." Dean said evenly.
Death chuckled. It was a vile, cold sound. "That I did. I am referring to the piece I told you about myself and God."
Tessa's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Someday you will reap him too."
"Precisely." Death stared into Dean's soul. "And believe me, no matter how many souls he swallows, this wayward angel is no God."
"You're not going to – You can't!" Dean was shocked.
"I can. But I won't, for now." Death said. He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Tessa." Tessa stepped forward. "Bind them."
Bobby and Dean both stepped back.
"Now listen here –" Bobby began.
"All she is to do is ward you from Castiel's eyes." Death assured them.
"If it makes you feel better, he already did it to me," Crowley smirked. "Tickles."
"Then let him do it. Don't send your little bitch to do your bidding." Dean spat. Tessa's eyes narrowed. "No offense." He reassured her. Tessa glared.
Death thought for a moment. "Fine. Come here." Dean stepped forward, but Bobby paused. Death raised his eyebrow.
"Bobby," Dean jerked his head at Death. Bobby hesitantly stepped forward.
Death reached out, placing his hand over Dean's heart. A deep cold slid into his chest, wrapped itself around his heart, and squeezed. Dean gasped in pain. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't move. The cold spread from his heart with every beat. Ice ran through his veins instead of blood.
Bobby stared. Dean's veins were turning dark blue – they shone black through his skin. "Stop!" he yelled. "You're going to kill him!" he rushed forward. Tessa grabbed his arm in a vice. Try as he might, Bobby couldn't shake her off.
Moments later, the black receded from Dean's veins. It drew back into his heart, 'til the cold finally drew back into Death's hand.
Dean stood frozen, without even breathing, then suddenly moved. He placed his hand on the desk to steady himself. "What," Dean panted, "Was that?"
"You have been marked by Death." Tessa finally spoke. "You should be grateful."
"Grateful? That he didn't reap him?" Bobby asked.
Death waved Tessa down. "She means no harm." He turned back to Dean. "You now bear my mark. You are hidden from all eyes – angel, demon, human – but not mine. So don't think you can betray me."
Dean clutched at his heart through his clothes. "What is it? Some sort of angel sigil thing?"
"Not nearly. Angel sigils simply sit on your bones. My mark courses through you with every beat of your heart. Your turn." He looked at Bobby.
Bobby looked at Dean, who nodded encouragingly. He stepped forward, allowing Death to mark him as well.
"Now that that business is taken care of," Crowley piped up, "Why exactly am I still here?"
"You all need my help." Death said.
"Look, thanks for saving me and all, but I think I'll be going now." Crowley stood and tried to vanish, but Death was keeping him there.
"Demon." Death growled at him. Crowley sat back down.
"Dean. Your brother is suffering more than you could possibly imagine. You spent decades in Hell – he spent centuries. I have information that can help you. Crowley, you won't be able to hold Hell for long if Castiel manages to round up the rest of Raphael's followers. The same information can help you."
"What information?" Dean asked.
"Information about my sister – and the others' sisters." He replied.
"Your sister?" Crowley looked at Death, sizing him up. "I thought she was a metaphor. A symbol, perhaps."
"Until a few years ago you thought the same thing about me."
"True." Crowley replied. "But you can't actually expect me to believe she actually exists. I have no reason to believe you."
"Why would I lie to you?" Death pointed out. "I have nothing to gain from a lie."
"Or from the truth." Bobby added. For the first time Death looked at Bobby as if he really noticed him.
He turned his head to Dean. "She's the only one who can save your brother."
Dean's eyes lit up. "She can help Sam?"
"The only one that truly can."
Dean looked at Bobby, who nodded slightly. "What do you need from us?"
"Simply your voices. No supernatural being can summon my sister, and much as it pains me to admit, she has been ignoring my requests."
"What else?" Bobby asked. When Death looked at him, he clarified. "What else is needed for the summoning?"
"This is where Crowley comes in. We need a hellstone, and the feather of an angel. The blood of a reaper I can supply," he motioned at Tessa, "As well as the final requirement."
"A hellstone?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah." Crowley replied. "Easy enough to find, they're scattered all over the place down there. It's the angel feather that's going to be difficult. Know any angels that would be willing to give it up?" Bobby glared and started to open his mouth.
"I had hoped," Death interrupted before things could get heated between the demon and Bobby, "That you would've thought ahead and grabbed a feather from Balthazar's body before you rescued the hunters." He looked pointedly at Crowley. "But seeing as you didn't . . . "
"Hold on a moment, dead man. Who said I didn't think ahead? Maybe I did, and I'm just waiting for the right offer." Dean and Bobby started to reach for the holy water and salt placed strategically around the room.
"Give us the feather and I won't strike you down where you stand." Death's tone was even, sure.
"Right offer." Crowley procured a handful of feathers from the inner pocket of his jacket. They were small, clearly from the tips of the wing. They looked as though they were made of shadow – there one moment, gone when the light shifted. He passed them across the desk to Death, who handed them to Tessa.
"Now we just need the hellstone. How do we get a hellstone?" Dean asked.
"Hellooo!" Crowley waved, "Demon, remember? King of Hell? Can poof down there whenever I feel like it? Any of this ringing a bell in those thick hunter skulls?" Dean and Bobby looked at each other. Crowley rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."
Crowley vanished. An awkward silence descended on the room. Dean finally broke it. "So," he said, looking at Tessa, "Reaped anyone famous recently?"
"You hear about the inventor of the Segway driving off a cliff in one?"
"Yeah."
"That was a fun one." Tessa just stared blankly at Dean. There was something off about her. Dean walked over, waving his hand in front of her face. There was no reaction.
"What did you do to her?" Dean abruptly turned on Death.
"She has an irrational fear of knives. In order to take her blood, she must be cut. I thought the easiest thing to do would be to hypnotize her so she doesn't end up seriously hurting herself or whoever it is that draws the blood."
"So you mean you're just going to take it from her?" Dean exploded. "Without her consent? This is her blood, not yours! Just because you're Death doesn't mean you can take whatever you want!"
Death held up a hand, palm out. Dean stopped talking. "She told me I could take her blood. I would never take it without her permission. Plus, don't you know anything about hypnosis? If the subject isn't willing, they can't be hypnotized." Death looked at Tessa fondly. "She's quite helpful. Told me to try the pizza in Chicago. If it weren't for her that city would no longer be standing."
Dean looked from Death to Tessa. He saw the look in Death's eyes – it was all a bit suspicious. "Are you two . . . you know . . . together?" he asked. Death stared blankly at him. "I mean . . . come on . . . you may be Death but you've got to know what I'm talking about here . . . are you two . . . a thing?" Death showed no change. "Seriously? You don't know what I'm talking about?"
"The moron wants to know if you two are boinkin' each other." Bobby interrupted. Dean stared at him, flabbergasted.
Death smiled coldly. "Ah. You should have just asked me Dean. I don't bite. Unless it's your time. And to answer your question, no, we are not – how did you put it – together. From what I understand that would be frowned upon by your society."
"What? You mean the age difference? Let's face it buddy, if you're dating anyone there's going to be an age difference. Plus it's not my place to judge." Dean said quickly.
"Not the age difference." Death looked up at Dean through heavily lidded eyes. "You mean it never occurred to you? Almost every time you've seen me I've been with her."
Understanding lit in Bobby's eyes. "Oh," he said.
"What?" Dean asked, looking back and forth between the two. "What?"
Bobby turned to Dean. "Tessa is Death's daughter."
"You have a daughter?" Dean looked shocked.
"What? Just because I'm Death I can't have a family?"
"No, it's just . . . I mean you're . . . But I thought . . . So does this mean all reapers are your children?"
"Not at all. Tessa's only a reaper because that's what she wanted to be. I gave her the option of being human, but she asked if she could be a reaper instead. So I made her a reaper, and eventually she proved herself to be quite capable."
Crowley appeared in the middle of the room, his hand smoking. "Got it," he said. He walked over to Death and opened his hand. In it sat a small, jagged stone. It was red, but not the way sandstone is red. It looked like there was lava swirling at its core. Smoke rose from the stone, filling the room.
Death took it. Suddenly his bag appeared on the desk. With his free hand he reached in and took out a stone mortar and pestle set. He placed the hellstone in the mortar, and ground it into a fine fiery dust. Then he took the feathers from Tessa, setting all but one aside. The dust was still smoking when he added the feather, but the feather didn't catch fire. He reached back into his bag and withdrew a sharp flint knife, an ancient looking book, and a vial with some sort of dried leaf in it.
"Here." He passed the book to Dean. "It's the first incantation. It'll appear phonetically, so just pronounce the words and sounds as you would in English." Dean carefully opened the book to the first page. Death was right. While the words didn't make sense – they were strange series of sounds – he could easily pronounce them just by sounding them out.
Death then took the knife in one hand, Tessa's hand in the other. Carefully he cut across her palm. It was shallow, and bled very little. He caught some on the knife, and used that to spread a few drops on top of the stone and feather. Finally, he took the dried bits of leaf and sprinkled them over the whole concoction.
"What is that?" Bobby asked, his interest in summoning rituals outweighing his fear of interrupting.
"A leaf from the Tree of Life." Death replied absent-mindedly.
Dean and Bobby looked at each other in shock.
"Oh come on boys. Would you stop being surprised by every little thing?" Crowley asked, clearly annoyed by their lack of knowledge regarding the ritual. "How are we supposed to summon Life without a leaf from the Tree of Life?"
"Wait. What?" Dean asked.
At the exact same moment Bobby exclaimed, "We're summoning Life?"
"Who else would my sister be. Everyone, stand in a circle." Everyone shifted so they formed a circle with Death at its head. Death looked up from the mixture in front of him. "Dean, please read the incantation."
"First, tell me this: Will summoning your sister cause some great natural disaster or anything like that?"
"No." Death stated. "Read." He ordered.
Dean began to read from the book. As he did, Death took two candles from his bag, one black and one green. He passed his hand over the green one, lighting it. Then he touched the wick of the black candle to that of the green. It immediately caught fire. He set the black one to the left of the mortar. Reverently, he touched the green candle to the tip of the feather. Slowly, the flame crept its way from the candle's wick to the feather, up the shaft of the feather, and touched the remnants of the hellstone. The moment the flames licked the red dust, the entire mortar burst into flames. Dean's eyes widened, but he kept reading.
As the flames went higher, a wind rose in the room. It encircled them, tugging at their clothes and messing their hair, but it didn't touch any of the papers or books.
"Keep reading." Death instructed.
Dean flipped to the next page. He continued reading, and the wind continued to blow. Eventually the wind was so strong they had to fight to keep standing. The flames burnt out, and the ashes were picked up by the wind. With what felt like hurricane force, the ashes were flung through the air, getting in their eyes, coating their flesh, tingeing them red. Dean reached the end of the incantation.
The wind stopped.
The ashes disappeared.
In the middle of the circle stood a woman.
She seemed young, no more than thirty. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The tracksuit she was wearing flattered her athletic figure, and it looked like she had just been interrupted during her morning jog. Her brown eyes peered out of a round face, clearly annoyed. She crossed her arms, looking at Death.
"I hope you're happy." A soprano voice spilled from her lips.
"Not at all." Death replied.
"Well it's not my fault. She told me to come instead. She's busy."
"Busy?" Death raised an eyebrow.
"Busy. Since she found out the space program was being shut down due to budget cuts she decided now would be a good time to have some fun on Mars. Lay some red herrings for the next rover or astronauts that manage to get there."
"Ah yes, ever the trickster." Death sighed.
"Hold up." Dean interrupted. "Is this your sister?"
"No." Death replied. "This is Health, Pestilence's sister."
"Nice to meet you." She nodded at the surrounding people.
"So where the hell is your sister? She was supposed to help my brother!" Dean yelled.
"It would appear," Death remained calm on the surface, "That my sister is currently laying evidence of life on Mars. So she sent her friend in her stead."
"Well that's just peachy!" Dean exclaimed. "Your sister is busy screwing around with people while my brother lies there fighting for . . . whatever it is he's fighting for!" He pointed at Sam on the window seat. At some point his eyes had opened, but they remained blank, unseeing.
Health walked over to Sam. "What's wrong with him?"
"His soul was in the Pit." Bobby told her. "The wall Death put up to block the memories was removed, and now – looks like he's catatonic."
"Right." Health said. She was on her knees next Sam, examining him for other signs of injury.
She looked at Death. "You put up the wall?" He nodded. She stood, and looked straight at Dean. "Look, I can't heal your brother. It's his soul that's injured, not his mind or his body. Healing the soul . . . that's Life's domain. But I may be able to help until you can get a hold of her. Basically I can put a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound. It won't be pretty, but it'll be better than now."
"Will he remember anything?" Dean asked, looking at his brother with concern.
"Yes. All of it." She didn't mince words. "But he won't relive the pain every moment. There'll be bad days and worse days, but he'll live. For now."
"How much time would he have?"
"A couple months. Maybe half a year. If you're lucky. But at least you'll have time to either find Life or some other way to get him help."
"Is he going to be… Different?"
"Again, yes. Do you know what schizophrenia does to a person?"
Dean shook his head, but Bobby said, "Yes."
Health turned to address Bobby. "It'll be like that, only much, much worse. He'll see things, hear things. He'll have violent hallucinations. He'll scream in terror for hours when there's nothing to hurt him. But there will be times he seems normal. Just be aware, even in these times of normalcy he is entirely capable of snapping and hurting the nearest person."
"So it'll be like when he went through withdrawal with the demon blood." Dean said.
"No." she replied forcefully. "It will be much, much worse. And as time goes on he'll begin to feel the pain of the memories as well as just remember it. This will not be easy." Her look softened. "It might be best just to leave him there. At least he can't hurt anyone else."
"Is he in pain right now?"
"Excruciating."
"Do it." Dean waved his permission to her and turned away, unable to watch. Bobby came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. A blinding white light flared from behind them. A moment later it was gone. They turned.
Sam was blinking, a confused, pained look on his face.
"Come here." Health said in a calm, reassuring voice. Sam sat up, allowing her to place her hand on the crown of his head. His body relaxed, the pain ebbing from his face.
Dean walked over and knelt next to his brother. "Sam?" He said quietly.
"Hey Dean." Sam said. He looked ragged, like he had aged decades in the hours since the wall had come down. "What happened to m—" He stopped short. A look of absolute terror crossed his face. "Oh god. I remember. Oh god." He looked at the familiar faces of those around him, but what he saw were twisted visages of demons, black-eyed and evil, and there in the corner… but it couldn't be. He scrambled back, trying to get away, pressing his back to the glass in the window.
"No, Sam. Sam." He heard Dean's desperate voice and looked back to his brother. Dean's face had been skinned. The muscles and bones were visible, blood gushing every time he moved his mouth. He looked to Bobby. Bobby was being eaten away by acid, his flesh sizzling and dissolving into a puddle at his feet. "Sam, please, come back. It's all right. No one is here to hurt you. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real. You're hallucinating."
"No!" Sam protested, shaking his head violently. "No!"
"Sam." Bobby joined Dean next to his brother. "Sam listen to me. Where are you?"
"I'm in your house, but it's not your house." The room had shifted around him. Everything looked like it was on fire. Strange shadows flickered on the walls – shadows torturing other shadows. He looked down at his chest. There was a gaping hole above his heart. He could see it beating in his chest, and next to it his lungs were moving in and out. As he breathed, a black substance crawled along them, turning the pink flesh grey. Smoke thought Sam. "Oh god everything's on fire! We have to get out of here!" He tried to stand, but the demons claiming to be Dean and Bobby pushed him back down. "No, you don't understand!" he tried to tell them. But even as he tried to fight them off, he looked down at his chest. His heart caught on fire. Flames were licking the inside of his ribcage. He was burning from the inside out.
"Sam!" Bobby shouted. Sam looked at him, eyes full of fear. "Listen to me Sam. You said we're in my house. That's right. But the house isn't on fire. Look at that mirror." He pointed to a mirror on the wall across from them. "Look at it. Is the house on fire?"
Sam looked into the mirror. In it he saw Dean and Bobby, not demons, just themselves, looking at him with concern. The house wasn't ablaze. Crowley, Death, Tessa, and a woman he didn't know were standing off to the side.
He looked back to his surroundings. Slowly, the flames began to recede. The shadows dissolved, and the hole in his chest knit closed. When he looked back at Dean and Bobby, their faces were returning to normal. He looked at the corner, but nothing was there. He embraced his brother, sobbing into his shoulder.
"How did you know about the mirror trick?" Health asked Bobby.
"I didn't. I was just hoping it would work." He confessed.
"Don't expect it to work every time. Especially when he gets worse." Health looked on sorrowfully.
"I'm going to get worse?" Sam asked, breaking away from Dean.
"Maybe." Health lied.
"Well let's hope not." Sam said. He carefully stood, his legs wobbling a bit. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. When his eyes rested on the woman in the tracksuit, he looked puzzled.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Sam, this is Health. She's Pestilence's sister." Dean explained. "Apparently each of those assholes has a much nicer sister."
"Oh." Sam simply accepted what his brother said to be true. He was far too tired to argue.
"So now what?" Dean wheeled on Death. "If Sam has any hope of getting better we have to find your sister."
"Yes." Death said, thinking. "I think I have an idea. If we—"
Castiel appeared in their midst. Dean started to push Sam back while Crowley lunged at them. Crowley grabbed Bobby's wrist and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. They blinked out. The last thing Dean saw was Castiel's confused expression.
They reappeared in a field outside Lawrence, Kansas.
"What the hell was that?" Dean yelled at no one in particular. "I thought Cas… God… whatever he is wasn't supposed to be able to find us! Death's mark and all that?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "That spell you used back there to summon Life? Even though it didn't work quite the way we hoped it was still powerful magic. And then she healed Sam. Our location was shining like a beacon. It was only a matter of time before one of Castiel's little minions ran and told him we were there. He would've seen us himself if he weren't so busy playing God and smiting Raphael's followers in Heaven."
"Come on." Bobby growled. "We need to find shelter."
The four made a sorry sight walking towards Lawrence. At the edge of town they found an old warehouse near the abandoned railroad tracks.
"In here." Crowley ushered them in.
It was dank and dusty, but it was shelter. Sam flopped down on the floor. He was exhausted, but there was no time to sleep.
"So, fill me in." Sam told them. "Last thing I remember is Cas declaring himself the new God."
Dean and Bobby took turns filling him in while Crowley kept watch.
A couple minutes later, Death, Tessa, and Health appeared in the warehouse. The only indication there had been any sort of altercation was the blood on Health's hand. It was coated from fingertips to wrist joint, a sticky red. Death walked forward and knelt by Sam, placing his hand over Sam's heart. Dean and Bobby watched as Sam received Death's mark.
"We should move again." Death said. "I don't know if Castiel was able to track us, but Sam has been here without my mark. We must go quickly."
Crowley walked over, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder, the other on Bobby's. Dean placed his hand on his brother's head. Crowley nodded at Death. "See you there."
Again they vanished. This time they found themselves in what appeared to be an abandoned house. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the family who owned the house was on vacation. Death and Health appeared. Health's hand was no longer bloody.
"I sent Tessa on a little errand. Now, let's talk." Death said. They went into the living room. Sam, Dean, and Bobby sat down on the couch. Sam began to doze, his head lolling onto his brother's shoulder. Dean let him be. Death and Health took up two of the armchairs. Crowley chose to remain standing.
"First, what happened back there?" Dean asked.
"Castiel tried to fight us." Health explained. "He didn't seem to realize one of only two beings more powerful than himself was in the room." She looked pointedly at Death. "He decided to come after me first. I held my own. And in the process, I managed to release a few of the souls he devoured."
"How many?" Crowley interrupted.
"Not enough to make a real difference. A few hundred, perhaps. But it was enough to stun him. While he was still reeling we decided it would be wiser to leave the fight for another day. So we left him there and joined you."
Dean looked at Death. "So what was that idea you were talking about before Cas showed up?"
"My sister has a certain attachment to the idea of balance. With God nowhere to be found, it has thrown the universe off-kilter. I think she believes Castiel becoming the new God wouldn't be such a terrible thing. What if we were to in some way jeopardize his ascension? She would have no choice but to interfere or let the universe be thrown even more off balance. There are rumors of a book, a powerful grimoire written in Sumerian. Within its pages are said to be some of the most powerful exorcisms ever written. There's one in particular. It doesn't work on angels or demons, or any other parasitic entity. It is capable of exorcising a person's soul, leaving nothing but their empty body behind. I think with the right alterations this could be used to exorcise the souls from Castiel. Once they have been exorcised we can return them to purgatory. My sister will no doubt feel this sudden shift. When she appears, I can bend her to my will. She can mend Sam's soul and some of the harm Castiel has done. Then we can all go back to the way things were before this whole purgatory mess began."
Health nodded slowly. "That might actually work."
"Wait, whoa. Slow down there, pony-girl. Just where the hell have you and your hippie, flower-power buddies been this whole time? I mean we were in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse! We could've used your help." Dean fell silent, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what he had just said.
"For your information," Health rolled her eyes, "We were ordered to stay out of it."
"Stay out of it?" Crowley broke in. "Ordered? You're the sisters of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, no one orders you around."
"Except for the head sister." Health glanced at Crowley.
"Life ordered you to stay out of it?" Death asked, his brow furrowing.
"Yeah." Health said, looking back at him. Their gazes spoke volumes.
Bobby broke the uncomfortable silence. "So what do we call you four anyway?" he asked Health. "The Sisters of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is a bit of a mouthful."
Health gave a little half smile. "I'm fine with Pony-Girls. Just don't call us that in front of Life. If you haven't figured it out yet, she has a ten-foot stick up her ass."
Dean guffawed. Crowley chuckled. When they noticed each other laughing, they stopped.
"Well boys, guess this means we're on the same side now." Crowley said. "Too bad. I'd have liked to give kissing Bobby another go. The beard tickled."
Bobby flushed. "It'll be a cold day in hell when I kiss you again, demon."
"Well then, it's good to be king." Crowley smiled. Bobby just couldn't win. He wandered off, looking for a beer, muttering something about demons and idjits.
Death looked pointedly at Crowley. "I expect you to be of assistance when the Winchesters or I require it."
"Of course." Crowley bowed stiffly. "But right now I have a kingdom to get to and queues to lengthen. With your permission?" Death waved his hand dismissively, and Crowley vanished.
Bobby reentered the room. "Can you believe it? All I can find is champagne and margarita mix. What is this? A sorority house?"
"I don't know, Bobby." Dean said. Bobby sat down in a huff, disturbing Sam's sleep. He sat up, eyes unfocused. "If we're supposed to find this book we should probably get going now." Dean addressed Death. "Mind if we get out of here?" He began to stand.
"Don't you need to know where you're going first?" Death asked.
"That would probably be a good idea." Dean said, returning to his seat. "So, where are we headed?"
"Canaan, New Hampshire. Rumor has it that's where the book was last seen." Health said. "Since we're in Oregon, I'll pop you back to Bobby's place before I leave." She helped Sam up. Bobby slipped under his other arm to help support him.
"And just how are we supposed to get there? My car was demolished by that pack of demons." Dean snapped.
"Tessa should have repaired it and returned it to Bobby's by now." Death said coldly.
"Oh. Thanks." Dean sounded meek.
"One more thing." Death added as Dean went to join them. "If my sister should discover our plot, it would be quite unfortunate. Do not freely discuss our plans. I may be more powerful than my sister, but she has a nasty temper. She could cause you harm, so be careful."
"Will do." Dean nodded. Health reached out her free hand. Dean took it, and moments later Death was alone.
He sat, his vast and ancient mind mulling over the recent events. An old friend came to mind. "You're a woman, little sister," he murmured. "And God help you."
The room was empty.
Health, Bobby, Sam, and Dean appeared in Bobby's living room. It was pristine, despite the supposed battle between Cas and Health. Sam was finally awake. He still had a distant look in his eyes, but he was able to stand on his own, and he wasn't screaming.
"I think I'm going to go lay down." He said.
"Good idea." Health told him. She watched him walk up the stairs. Bobby went and grabbed three beers from the fridge. He handed one to Dean and Health, then twisted the top off his own.
"Looks like that battle went well. What did you two do, race to see who could put more books back on the shelf?" Bobby quipped. Health rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're good at that." He took a chug from his beer.
Health laughed. "I just did what I could." She looked out the window. It was dark out, and deep shadows played tricks even on her mind. She looked to Dean. "Take care of your brother. He's . . . fragile."
"You're telling me. Chick flick moments every other minute." Dean took a drink.
"You know that's not what I'm talking about." Dean wouldn't look her in the eye. "Dean, look at me. I need to know you're listening." He reluctantly looked at her. Health's eyes swam with amber concern. "You're brother is going to seem okay, at least for now. I didn't want to tell you this in front of him, but there are signs my help is already wearing off. And it's all downhill from here. He's going to have nightmares, that's a given. Like you saw earlier, they'll bleed into his everyday routine. But it will get so much worse. One day he'll open his eyes and be showering in molten rock instead of water. And it won't go away. Not with a mirror, not with a nap – all water will remain molten rock. Your body will turn itself inside out in front of him, and no matter how hard he tried he won't be able to put you right in his mind. Eventually it'll be just like he's back in the Pit, even though he's just sitting on the couch."
Tears began to fill Dean's eyes. "I – I can't watch him go through that."
"I know. Believe me, I do. But you'll have to be ready." Health reached into the pocket on her jacket and pulled out what looked like a business card. "Look, if you need me, call the number on the card. It's my direct line. Only use it if you absolutely need to."
"So you can just fix Sam anytime he starts to crumble?" Dean looked hopeful.
"No, I can't." Dean was visibly disappointed. "Unfortunately his condition is such that attempting to help every time he needed it would completely drain me. But, if for some reason you find yourself in dire need, I would be willing to spare some time."
"Yeah." Dean said dismissively.
Health looked at Bobby. "Thanks for the beer, but I should be going now." She set the full bottle down on Bobby's desk. This time, she took the front door. As she passed Bobby, she put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned down, and she whispered in his ear, "Take care of them. And yourself. But especially them." She looked back. Tears trickled down Dean's face as he stared at the floor. "They're our best hope for fixing all this." Bobby nodded.
The door opened, then slammed shut as a wind whispered outside. The light on the front porch flickered and went out.
"So," Dean said, wiping his face. "Canaan, New Hampshire. How far away is that?"
"Probably about sixteen hours from here. I'm assuming you'll take the Impala."
"That's the plan." Dean drained his beer. "Come on, let's see if we can find anything about this damn book. I'll leave at dawn."
"By yourself?" Bobby raised his eyebrow.
"Well, yeah."
"Sam won't be happy about that." Bobby pointed out.
"At least he'll be safe. Pissed off, but safe." Dean grabbed a likely book from the shelf behind him.
"Is any place safer than any other?" Bobby turned to another bookcase.
"Don't get all philosophical on me, Bobby."
"I'm not getting philosophical, I'm getting practical. Plus, we don't want to worry Sam. If you leave him here he'll start to think something's wrong."
"Something is wrong." Dean snapped the book shut, exchanging it for another on the shelf.
"And he'll need his brother to help him get through it." Bobby knew he had Dean there.
Dean refused to acknowledge his point. The two worked in silence until dawn. They found nothing solid, just hints of a powerful book, shrouded in death and mystery.
Sam woke up late, around noon. Dean loaded the Impala while Bobby filled Sam in on what they had found. They kept finding reasons to delay departure – the tires needed to be inflated, they needed to eat lunch, there was a book they forgot to check that night.
They finally left at five in the evening, and even then Dean was reluctant to leave. But Sam seemed normal enough. He hadn't had another serious episode since the previous evening, though he had had a few moments when he lost his train of thought, or glimpsed strange shadows.
Bobby waved as the boys pulled away. When they were out of sight, he went back inside and grabbed a beer. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep until he heard from Sam and Dean again. He looked at the picture of Karen on the mantel. Wish you were here he thought, knowing he was glad she wasn't. He took a swig from the cold brown bottle. It was going to be a long night.