Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
ONE
Walking through the hallway with his cell phone in his hand, Dean stopped when he passed his bedroom and walked in. Looking around the room, a wry smile formed on his lips. In all the years that he and Sam had been hunting and even the years before that when he was a child, all he remembered was dirty motel rooms. The last time he had an actual home or bedroom was when he was a small child, before his mother was killed.
Sighing, he turned his face towards the photo sitting on his night stand. Walking forward, he lifted it gently and stared down at the worn out photo in his hand. It was a snapshot of his mother holding him as a small child, four years of age, before everything had changed. He could never forget that night, not even after thirty years. He remembered seeing smoke and his father running towards him, pushing his baby brother Sam in his arms and shouting at him to go outside. Holding little Sammy tightly, he had ran down the stairs and out onto the yard, stopping to face his home only when he was a safe distance away. All he saw was fire.
After that night, after his mother had been killed by Yellow Eyes, his father was never the same. Gone was the gentle soul who loved his wife and kids. What remained was a broken man who only cared about one thing: vengeance. After going back in time to try and stop Anna from killing his parents, Dean had learned that his mother, although from a family of hunters, never wanted this life for her children. The irony was that in the end, it was her death that forced them into it.
Their father would drag them around from town to town, trading one motel for another, leaving Dean in charge of Sam while he disappeared on one of his hunts. With John as the only parent he had left, Dean had followed his father's orders and demands, desperately trying to please him. He never revealed how hard it was, taking care of his younger brother when he, himself, was just a little kid. He took the responsibility forced on his shoulders with a smile and did the best he can. All he wanted was for Sammy to have a normal childhood and be okay.
When compared, although Sam changed schools all the time like his older brother and lived the same empty existence, his childhood was still fairly better than Dean's. While Sam was still playing with action figures when he was seven, Dean remembers his father teaching him how to shoot a gun at that same age. Sometimes, late at night when Sam was fast asleep, leaving Dean alone to his thoughts, he resented his brother just a bit. Through the years, Sam complained about the life they led, especially when he was older and had begun helping Dean and their father on the hunts. But he never fully realized that as bad as his childhood had been, Dean's had been much worse. He'd tried giving Sam as normal a childhood as he could under the circumstances. But in comparison, Dean's own childhood had ended the night his mother died. From then on, he was no longer allowed to have his innocence.
Gazing down at the photo, he smiled warmly at the thought of his mother before placing it back down gently in its place. Turning his gaze over to his closet, he smiled at the old leather jacket peeking through. It was the jacket that had belonged to his father, one he had passed on to Dean along with the Impala when he was of age. His smile slowly faded when he thought of his father. As much as he loved and missed the man, he also hated him just the same. He hated his father for making him grow up so quickly and for opening his eyes to a world of darkness and misery when he was just a small child. But more than anything, he hated his father for sacrificing himself to save him, leaving Dean with a heavy burden of guilt that never faded away.
Thinking back to those days after John had been killed by Yellow Eyes, he remembered how lost and angry he had been. Then he turned around a year later and did the same thing for Sam. He always found it both funny and tragic. Some parents passed down holiday traditions and recipes to their children. In the Winchester family, sacrificing yourself for your loved ones was the tradition they all shared.
All of a sudden, Dean remembered that day when Jake had rammed a knife through Sam's spine. He remembered running to Sam and holding him tightly, only to watch him take his last breath and die in Dean's arms. No other moment had ever shaken him like Sam's death had. He loved his brother more than anything and never once did he regret the deal he made. Going to Hell, all those years of torture and the psychological damage he suffered once he was resurrected; it was all worth it.
His train of thought brought him back to the present and the situation he now found himself in. He hated lying to Sam but Ezekiel was healing him from the damage of the Trials and although Dean knew Sam would hate him once the truth finally emerged, at least Sammy would be alive and safe. That's all that ever matted to Dean. He had been Sam's mother, father and brother all these years and if faced with the same choices, right or wrong, he would do it all again.
Sighing softly, he left his room and made his way towards the kitchen, walking inside just as Kevin was leaving.
"Hey, where's Sam?" he asked, turning to face the young prophet.
"He went out," Kevin replied, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"Where?"
"I don't know. Have you noticed he's doing that a lot?" Kevin replied before shrugging and walking down the hall.
Before his mind could go over Kevin's words, his cell phone rang and he quickly answered it.
"Dean, I don't have a lot of time so listen," Castiel's voice sounded through the phone.
A wave of comfort moved through Dean's body at the sound of his friend's voice. Despite all the anger and pain between them, Cas had become one of the only people Dean truly trusted. After Metatron's betrayal and the fall of all the Angels from Heaven, Cas had been invited into the bunker by Sam and Dean. The Angel's grace was leaving him bit by bit every day but having him around whether as an Angel or ultimately the human he was slowly becoming brought Dean a comfort that he couldn't explain.
"The leader of the opposition is an Angel named Malachi," Cas continued.
"How do you know that?"
"He had me. I was tortured," Cas replied quietly.
"Tortured?" Dean snapped into the phone. "Cas, what happened? Are you alright?"
"I got away."
"Cas, where are you?" Dean demanded into the phone.
"It's better if I stay away. They're going to want me even more now."
"Cas, get over here right now. I don't care if the target on your back just got renewed. Get your ass back to the bunker, now."
"Dean…," Cas tried to reason.
"No buts, Cas. I mean it. Get back here now."
Sighing into the phone, the Angel quietly nodded on the other end.
"My powers were drained. It will take me a while to recharge and come back,," he explained, cutting the hunter off before he could speak. "Dean, there's more. Didn't you say that Sam was healed by an Angel named Ezekiel?"
"Yeah, why?" Dean replied with a frown, not liking the sudden change in Castiel's tone.
"Ezekiel's dead."
The words hung between them for a moment as Dean blinked through his surprise.
"What?"
"He died when the Angels fell."
Dean took another moment to let the words sink in, feeling his heartbeat quicken in his chest.
"Cas, I need you to get back here. Please."
"I will be there as soon as I can."
As they both ended the conversation, Dean stared down at the ground in confusion.
If Ezekiel was dead, who the hell was inside Sam? the question rang through his mind.
Quickly leaving the kitchen, he practically ran the rest of the way to the common room, where Kevin was resting his head on his arms, the Angel Tablet beside him.
"Kevin!" he announced, his voice causing the young prophet to jump up in his seat. "I need a spell, ASAP."
"Everyone always needs a spell and it's always ASAP."
"Listen to me. An Angel can't be expelled by another human, just by the host, right? But what if there was a way to power down the Angel so he wasn't in charge for a few minutes."
"What?" Kevin asked, his confusion evident.
"For instance, if I wanted to speak with the vessel without the Angel listening in. If I wanted to clue the human in so that he could spit the Angel out. That would be a good thing, right?"
"Yeah?" Kevin said, his answer more of a question.
"Okay, so hit the tablet. Let's go."
"Now?" Kevin groaned.
"Yesterday, Cinderella!" Dean replied before making his way back down the hall.
Stopping in Sam's bedroom, he stared around the room for a long time, unsure how many minutes had passed as he simply stood there. In trying to save his brother's life, he had inadvertently placed him in more danger. Before long, Kevin dragged him back to a storage room and both men had painted symbols on the walls. As Kevin was finishing up, Dean left for a few minutes before meeting the young prophet back in the common room.
"Alright, so this masterpiece that we just painted, it's going to work, right?" Dean asked, his voice on edge.
"The sigils are supposed to briefly hobble the possessing Angel. As soon as your blood touches the ignition sigil, the spell kicks in," Kevin explained before sighing. "Dean, what's going on?"
"I told you."
"You told me theoretically," Kevin pointed out. "Dean, we just painted sigils in the storage room. What the hell?"
"You're going to have to trust me and trust that I've told you everything that I can for now," Dean replied. "Can you do that?"
"I always trust you," Kevin said simply. "And I always end up screwed."
"Oh come on, always? Not always," Dean said with a small smile before a sound coming from the kitchen captured his attention. "Just stay here."
Leaving the young prophet, Dean made his way to the kitchen to see Sam placing the groceries into the fridge.
"Hey, can we talk?" Dean asked as Sam closed the door and turned to face him.
"Sure," he said with a nod.
"Not here. Come on."
Leading the way, Dean walked down the hall and into the storage room, waiting until Sam had followed him inside before closing the door behind them. Removing his pocket knife, he quickly made a cut on his left palm and slammed his hand against a sigil on the wall, the noise causing Sam to turn around and face him.
"What's going on? What are you doing?" Sam asked, taking a step back as Dean walked closer towards him and placed the knife back in his pocket.
"I have to tell you some stuff fast. It's going to piss you off," Dean began before taking a deep breath.
"Okay," Sam said, unsure where this was heading.
"Those trials really messed you up."
"Yes, I know that Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes.
"No you don't," Dean replied, the urgency in his voice stopping Sam. "I mean, messed you up like almost dead. No more birthdays, dust to dust. Well, that messed me up and I made a move, okay? A tough move about you without talking it over because you were in a coma."
"Wait, what? When?" Sam asked, a worried frown covering his face.
"You were in the hospital and they said you were going to die."
"Dean, what did you do?" Sam demanded.
"I let an Angel in," Dean said after a moment, the tears already threatening to form as he watched Sam take a step back.
"In what?"
"In you," he said, releasing a shaky breath. "He said he could heal you and he still is."
"He's still in me?" Sam snapped. "Wait, that's impossible Dean. That could never happen. I never invited him in."
"I tricked you into saying yes. It seemed like the only way," Dean replied, the strength in his voice returning.
Sam turned around for a moment, scoffing incredulously before facing his brother.
"So again, you thought I couldn't handle something so you took over!"
"I did what I had to do!" Dean snapped back. "You would have never agreed to it and you would have died!"
"Well, may be I would have liked the choice at least!"
"Look, we can do this later. You can kick my ass all you want but right now we got bigger problems."
"Bigger?" Sam asked with another scoff.
"The Angel lied to me, okay?" Dean explained, hating the words coming out of his mouth and hating how easily he had been betrayed. "He's not who he said he was. He said his name was Ezekiel. Cool guy, according to Cas, but it's not Ezekiel."
"Who is he?" Sam asked, the fear in his voice apparent.
"I don't know. Apparently, Ezekiel is dead. Whoever this guy is can end you in a heartbeat if he wants so you have got to dump him!"
Sam stared at the ground for a moment, his breath coming out in short pants.
"Are you listening? You have to expel him!" Dean exclaimed.
Without looking up, Sam moved past his brother and towards the door.
"Sam?" Dean asked, turning to follow him.
Catching Dean by surprise, Sam swung his left fist and punched his brother in the jaw, sending Dean to the floor in a heap. As Dean groaned from the hit, Sam turned on his heels, opened the door and jogged back to the common room, stopping when he saw Kevin standing at the table, going through his notes with the tablet a few inches away.
"Hey Sam," Kevin greeted him, glancing up at the younger Winchester as Sam closed the distance between them. "Have you noticed anything weird about Dean lately? Between you and me, I'm a little worried about him."
"Don't worry about Dean," Sam replied, his voice oddly calm.
As Dean stumbled into the room, he looked up and his eyes met Kevin's. Before either could speak, Sam reached out and placed his hand on the prophet's forehead, causing a bright light to appear behind them.
"No! Kevin!" Dean shouted as he ran forward.
Sam easily pushed his brother against the wall with a flick of his hand, holding him there frozen as he burned the life out of a screaming Kevin.
"No!" Dean cried, struggling to free himself from the invisible grip.
When Sam lowered his hand from the Prophet, Dean watched helplessly as Kevin's corpse fell to the floor with a loud thump. Staring at the body in shock, he slowly lifted his stunned gaze to his brother.
"Sam?" he cried out.
"There is no more Sam," Gadreel replied, his voice calm. "But I played him convincingly, I thought."
"How did you…?" Dean choked on the words, the invisible grip tightening around his neck.
"I heard you talking with Kevin tonight," Gadreel replied before lifting his hand to show the paint marks on his fingers. "Alter a sigil, even a little, and you alter the spell."
Dean shut his eyes tight and pressed his head against the wall, feeling the tears begin to form.
"I'm sorry about Kevin," Gadreel explained, feeling sympathy for the human before him. "But ultimately, it was for the best."
"Cas," Dean whispered, finding it harder and harder to speak. "Please, Cas."
"I did what I had to," Gadreel continued, not having heard Dean's prayer.
Leaning down, the Angel removed a small card from his pocket, the one that Metatron had given him. Revealing Kevin's name written on the card, he kneeled down and placed the card onto Kevin's dead body. Standing back up, Gadreel placed the tablet in his bag and turned his gaze towards Dean, staring at him for a moment. The hunter simply stared at Kevin's body, tears slipping down his cheeks in silence.
"I'm sorry," Gadreel repeated before waving his hand, the move causing Dean to be released from the grip.
As Dean coughed heavily on the ground, Gadreel walked past him towards the stairs.
"Kevin?" Dean choked out, staring at the dead prophet. "Kevin!"
When the young man didn't move, Dean jumped to his feet and ran after the Angel.
"Hey! Whoever the hell you are!" Dean shouted as Gadreel turned around at the end of the common room and faced him.
"I do not wish to hurt you Dean."
"There's one thing you don't know," Dean said, barely unable to contain his boiling anger.
Before Gadreel could speak, Dean cut his other palm with his pocket knife, angrily removed a frame from the wall and slammed his hand down on another sigil, causing another bright light to appear.
"I was prepared," Dean sneered as the Angel's eyes widened.
Taking a step forward, he stared at the Angel as he struggled to move from the spot he was frozen in.
"Sam?" Dean asked, the name making Gadreel whip his gaze back in the hunter's direction.
"I told you. Sam is gone."
"I don't think he is," Dean sneered at the Angel before his voice grew gentler. "Sammy, I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. We don't have too much time. I need you to be strong and I need you to push this bastard out of you!"
Gadreel breathed heavily as he stared at Dean, fear flickering in his eyes.
"Sammy, come on! You took hold of Lucifer and forced him out! Do you remember that!" Dean continued, his voice starting to crack. "This douche is nothing compared to the Devil and you forced him out! I need you to listen to my voice and do it again."
Feeling the strength of the spell slowly lessening, Gadreel moved a step back.
"Sammy, please!" Dean begged, his voice coming out in a desperate cry. "After everything we've been through and everything we've seen, don't let this bastard be the end! You're strong, Sam. You always have been. I need you to be strong again and force him out!"
When nothing happened, a small smile appeared on Gadreel's face as he slowly lifted his hand.
"I did not wish to hurt you," he began.
As Dean watched helplessly, Gadreel lifted his arm to reach his gaze. Before he could flick his hand, his head snapped back and his mouth widened. A scream echoed through the air as Gadreel was pushed out of the body, stumbling back in the same vessel that Ezekiel had been in. Dean watched in stunned silence as Sam's limp figure fell to the ground before his eyes snapped open to the scene before him.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered after a moment.
Before either could speak, Cas suddenly appeared beside Dean and moved to stand in front of the two humans. He and Gadreel shared a threatening glare before the other Angel disappeared in a flutter of wings. Staring at the place the Angel had just been, Dean slowly lowered his gaze to his brother.
"Sammy?" he tried again, reaching out to pull him to his feet.
Sam slowly nodded before anger appeared on his face.
"Don't touch me," he warned, taking a step back.
"What happened?" Cas demanded, staring between the two brothers.
Lowering his gaze, Dean suddenly remembered the dead body in the other room. Running past them, he fell to his knees beside Kevin and pulled his body into his arms. Biting his quivering lower lip, Dean shut his eyes tight to stop the tears from falling.
