A/N: I'm sure there's been quite a few of these, but here's my tag to The Song Remains The Same.
A/N #2: Mild cursing. Brother fluff, cause I needed more. And a little Sam angst to boot, cause I love it.
A/N #3: The title of this story comes from the song "Fade Away" by Breaking Benjamin.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own the boys... or Castiel... or the angels depicted on Supernatural.
"He's back home – safe and sound." - Michael, The Song Remains The Same.
He woke up cold and shivering.
Sam peeled open bleary eyes. he found himself lying on plain grey carpet, his eyes shifting over to glance at the orange orangutan walls.
He was back in the motel room.
"God…." Sam rolled onto his back and sucked in a pained breath, feeling the taste of thick copper lining his throat as he inhaled. A deep breath set off harsh coughing which triggered a sharp pain in his chest, blood spraying onto the carpet as he curled into himself, trying to ride out the pain.
It was then that he remembered why he was in pain in the first place.
He put himself in front of his mother while Anna advanced towards them, shielding her and at the same time, shielding his unborn brother. He glanced down by the impassive angel's foot and saw the knife, eyes locking onto the angel's once more before he bolted, going for the knife while the angel reached for her own weapon.
Sam was fast.
Anna was faster.
His hand had just reached the knife when he felt something sharp being driven into his chest and he gasped, feeling the crude weapon twisted and then broken off. Sam stumbled back a few steps until his back hit the wall, groaning. The pain was blinding, and breathing was sharp and inconsistent as one lung filled with blood and the rest spilled between his fingers. Overwhelmed, Sam sought out his brother, blood already coating his teeth, bubbling over his lips.
"Sammy!" Dean gritted out between pursed lips, Uriel's hand wrapped tightly around his throat.
A part of Sam, the child-like part of him, even with everything that has happened between the two of them, still believed that Dean could do anything.
That he could still save him.
He tried to call out to his brother but all that came out was a pained grunt. Sam's vision greyed and his legs couldn't hold him anymore – like they'd forgotten their job.
Sam slid down the wall with a jarring thud. His head rolled on his shoulders – the walls blended together now, a mixture of black and grey and there's pressure in his chest now and he can't breathe. He can just see Anna's indifferent look as she watches his blood spill onto his shirt, droplets hitting the dusty floor silently as Sam followed them down, slumping onto his right side, eyes sliding shut of their own accord.
He faintly heard a distant "Sam!" before his heart gave an irregular lurch, and then another.
Then he didn't hear anything anymore.
There was a sudden crash somewhere off to his left, but Sam was too busy concentrating on breathing. One hand clutched his chest like a heart attack patient, feeling the small organ pounding heavily against his ribs as he sucked in heavy breaths.
There was a brush of fingers on his jacket and then a strong grip around his bicep. "Sam." He could feel his brother kneel beside him. "You okay?"
Sam leaned his head back against the floor, eyes scrunched closed as he tried to find some semblance of control. "M'okay."
Dean sighed, whether from exasperation or relief, Sam wasn't sure. "Okay, let's sit you up, okay?" With one hand behind Sam's shoulders and the other on his arm, he gently levered Sam to a sitting position.
Sam barely made it to a sitting position before he felt his face bleach of color and an incessant ringing in his ears echoed and ricocheted in his head to an ear splitting crescendo.
Dean watched the color drain from his younger siblings face and felt his brother's heavy frame lean more heavily into Dean. "Damnit, Sam. Hold on." He shifted his brother so that his back slumped against the wall.
Sam's shifted forward, his face falling onto Dean's shoulder, chin scrapping against the worn jacket as he breathed deeply and tried not to puke.
Dean grunted from the extra weight leaning on him, his legs burning with exertion with holding the both of them up. "I guess he didn't quite top you up when he brought you back."
Sam groaned, whether from the joke or the lack of blood to his brain, Dean wasn't quite sure. "Shut up or I'll puke."
Dean canted his head in acknowledgement. "Duly noted."
They stayed that way for several minutes; Sam's breathing had finally reached a semblance of normal and Dean's feet had gone completely numb. "Sam?" A brush of skin against his shoulder and Dean knew Sam was listening. "I'm going to lean you back against the wall, okay? I want to check the… wound."
His brother pulled his head up and way from Dean's shoulder as Dean gently leaned the broad shoulders back against the wall.
Sam kept his eyes closed as the room did a lazy waltz, feeling his shirt being pulled up to just under his arms. Warm fingers brushed sensitive skin and Sam flinched.
"Sorry." Dean said contritely, fingers moving to the shirt and pulling it back down again. "The skin's intact, just bruised. Thank God."
Sam opened one eye and glanced at his brother.
Dean looked back, for once not hiding anything. "You scared me Sammy. I thought…." He licked dry lips and looked away.
"Dean…." Sam didn't know what to say. On one hand, that squirrel of doubt he'd had that his brother might be… okay, or even relieved if Sam was gone. If Dean's look was anything to go by, Sam could maybe finally let that insecurity go. He knew his brother loved him but… with the things he'd done, the fractured relationship between them and the phone message they never talked about… Sam had had doubts.
But the obvious relief at Sam being alright and not dead, kind of put things in perspective for him. "I'm okay."
Dean swallowed, even smiled a little. "Damn rights you're okay. Cause I would have dropped kicked that douche bag of an angel if you hadn't been."
Sam was a little fuzzy on the details. "Angel? Who?"
Dean rubbed the back of his head agitatedly. "Michael. The Arch Angel Michael, apparently." At Sam's confused look, Dean just shook his head. "It's a long story. All you need to know is that he swooped in and killed Anna after she… stabbed you," They both swallowed at the memory, "and then pulled a chatty cathy like some bar hopper looking for a hook up. Then he healed you and sent us back home."
Sam just kind of gaped at him, the skin around his eyes pinched and tired. "Did he…?"
Dean just shook his head. "He made a whiny proposition of which I don't intend to listen to." He held out his hand to his brother. "Think you can stand? You should probably get washed up."
Sam looked down at his shirt – it was true. Even his jeans down his right hip were soaked red.
Glancing at his brother, maybe Sam getting a change of clothes was more for Dean's peace of mind than Sam's.
He swallowed, grabbing Dean's arm above his wrist. "Yeah just – need some help."
Dean pulled him up to his feet, grabbing Sam's shoulders as he swayed. "Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Dean asked sardonically.
Sam groaned, one hand going to his forehead as the head rush slowly disappeared. "I was thinking the floor was really comfortable."
Dean snorted, amused. "Smart ass." He took a hold of Sam's elbow and gently guided his sibling to the bathroom. At the door, he left his brother there and promised to bring new clothes for him.
A few minutes later the shower started.
Dean dug through Sam's bag until he found clean clothes and opened the bathroom door just wide enough to slip the clothes on the counter and quietly closed the door. "Don't stay in there too long. I don't want you passing out and me having to come in there. I'm scarred enough already."
Sam succinctly told him what he thought of that.
Dean grinned to himself. Kid's got a way with words. Sighing to himself, Dean plopped down on the nearest bed, head leaning against the headboard and closed his eyes.
And tried not to think about Michael's words.
It wasn't long after Sam came out of the bathroom, finally clean and dry before Dean wanted to celebrate with some alcohol. Castiel appeared out of nowhere and promptly passed out between them, before they dumped the unconscious angel on the bed.
Sam hadn't pressed for more details about what happened while he was… not aware, but Dean had given a few more details up – about how Michael had told him free will was an illusion, and that Dean would say yes to Michael.
Sam could see the affect the angel had on his brother. His eyes were tighter, more pinched, and his mouth was drawn in a grim line.
And when Sam dangled the same carrot that had had their father say yes to the angel, the promise to be able to save their Mom, Sam could see conflict in Dean's eyes.
Now you see why I'm afraid. Sam drank to 'Team Free Will' but was starting to believe that perhaps Michael was right. That everything that they had gone through – everything they were still going through – was going to lead them down the same path – leaving both himself and his brother possessed by feuding angels, hell bent on a rematch that would torch half the word and leave one of them dead.
Leaving the other with the blood of his brother and the world on his hands.
It was a thought that haunted Sam at night – and one he figured terrorized his brother too.
Dean cleared his throat, raising his second glass. "To free will."
For better or for worse, that's all they could hold on to. "Free will." Sam echoed hollowly, draining the glass.
Sam wouldn't say yes to Lucifer. He wouldn't.
In a small corner of Sam's mind, where self doubt and helplessness reigned, he just hoped destiny wouldn't make a liar out of him.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed.