Thank you Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading.


Chapter Two

Dean felt his head break the water, and he drew in a deep breath of foul-smelling air. His vision was obscured by the bright light that was rushing past his eyes, and his head swam as the high-pitched whine filled his ears. He didn't understand what was happening at first. It wasn't until he brought up a hand to cover his eyes and saw it move that he realized it was really him in control of his body again.

He blinked, trying to see through the glare. "Sammy?"

He heard a soft laugh in return.

The light withdrew from him and funneled through a broken window, and Dean was able to see Sam scrambling to his feet. Before Dean could even draw a full breath, Sam was dragging him into a tight hug that knocked the little air in him out. Dean gripped him in return, cupping the back of Sam's head feeling the strong comforting weight of his brother.

After Michael took over, Dean had been shoved underwater, and he'd had no idea what was happening to the world around him. He didn't even know if Sam and the rest of his family were alive or dead. But Sam was here now, in his arms, and Dean had his body back.

He pulled free of Sam's tight hold and looked him in the eyes. "How did you do this? What did it cost?"

Sam waved away his questions as if they were nothing. "It's okay."

Dean shook his shoulder. "Dammit, Sam, what did you do?"

"A spell," Sam said. "Rowena did a spell. It wasn't any kind of deal. We're all okay."

Dean stared into his eyes, searching for a lie, and saw none. He held Sam away from him and examined him. His hands and the front of his shirt were bloody and there was a ragged hole in the cloth over his stomach.

"Sam!" he gasped. "You're bleeding. Oh, god, what did I do?"

"Not you, Michael," Sam said, pushing away Dean's hands as they reached to lift his shirt. "And the grace will heal it. Look, my hands are healed already. Yours is now, too."

Dean looked at Sam's upraised hands and saw they were bloody but there was no wound. He looked down at his own left palm and saw it was bloody but clear of wounds, too. The stain in Sam's shirt was bigger though, and he panicked. Against Sam's resistance, he lifted his shirt to see the wound. It looked deep, and the sight of it made Dean feel sick.

"You need a doctor. Where are we? Where's the nearest hospital? I know you checked." That was the kind of thing Sam always checked.

"We're in Duluth, Minnesota, and I don't need a doctor," Sam said. "It's hardly bleeding any more. Let's just get out of here. The Impala is outside, and our spare duffels are in the trunk. I need to get out of these bloody clothes, and you need out of that suit."

Dean looked down and noticed his clothes for the first time. Michael had dressed him in a suit and coat with a hideous tie that seemed to be constricting his throat. He tugged it off and shrugged off the coat then threw them both away from him onto the floor.

"Better," Sam said. "But the whole outfit has to go. Come on."

He picked up the archangel blade and strode away to the door, and Dean followed him into the fresh, cool air. The Impala was parked at an angle as if Sam had skidded to a halt without care. Sam threw him the keys and Dean caught them then Dean got in behind the wheel and said, "So, where is the hospital."

Sam rolled his eyes as he slid in beside him. "I'm not going to a hospital. I'm fine. The grace will fix it. It just needs a little time. It hardly hurts at all."

Dean turned in his seat to look at him. "What grace? Do you mean Cas?"

"In a way."

"Sam" Dean said in a warning tone.

"I needed grace for the spell," Sam explained. "It healed my hands and it will heal the rest in time. It's obviously not working full power in me."

"We'll get you to Cas," Dean said. "He can take care of it. Where is he anyway?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Where do you think we got the grace from, Dean? Cas is running on empty right now. He can't heal anything. And where he is I don't know. They probably got free by now."

"Got free?"

Sam grinned. "I handcuffed Mom to the map table, Cas, too, and knocked Bobby out." He rushed on in response to Dean's incredulous look. "I couldn't let them come. They could have got hurt."

"Like you did!"

Sam shook his head. "I knew Michael wouldn't kill me. You wouldn't have let him."

Dean turned away. Sam's absolute faith in him was misplaced. He hadn't known what was happening when Michael was in control. If Michael had aimed for the heart, Sam would have been killed and Dean wouldn't have been able to do a thing to stop it. He wouldn't have even known. It looked like Michael had stabbed Sam, and yet he believed Michael couldn't have killed him. He was wrong.

Sam took a pack of towelettes from the glovebox and cleaned up his hands. He tossed them to Dean and Dean wiped the blood from his hands then started the engine and reversed around to face the road.

"Take a right and get onto Route 35," Sam said. "There's a motel about two miles down. We should call Mom too. She needs to know you're back."

Dean patted his pockets, finding them empty. "Michael must have dumped my cell."

Sam pulled out his own and dialed a number then put it on speaker and held it up between them. Dean took them right and followed the road toward Route 35 as it rang. When it connected, there was the sound of an engine in the background and Mary's voice was terse. "Sam! Are you okay? Did you find him?"

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, and Dean cleared his throat and said, "He found me, Mom."

"Dean! Oh, thank god. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean said, though he didn't think he would feel fine for a long time after everything that had happened.

"Is Sam?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean said, "He got a little banged up by Michael, but he says he's okay."

"I am okay!" Sam said, holding the phone closer to his mouth.

"Do you believe him?" Mary asked.

"Trying to," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll be fine, Mom. The grace is fixing it. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to you with Cas," she said. "We're about an hour out."

"Meet us at the Voyager Inn," Sam said. "It's on Route 35."

"I'll find it," she said. "You two take care of each other. I'll see you soon."

"Okay, Mom," Sam said.

"I love you boys," she said.

"We love you, too, Mom," Dean said.

They exchanged goodbyes and Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He relaxed back in his seat and said, "The motel is up ahead."

Dean spotted the lit sign advertising free cable, and he turned on the blinker then pulled them into the parking lot and then a spot. Sam handed him his wallet and said, "You better check us in. I look a little too macabre to go unnoticed."

The easy way he said it, as if the fact his shirt was coated with his own blood from the damage Dean had done to him was nothing, made Dean scowl.

He got out of the car and walked to the office. There was no one at the desk, and he rang an old-fashioned bell. There was grumbling and then an overweight man appeared through a door behind the desk. He approached the desk and leaned against it.

"Welcome to the Voyager Inn," he said in a bored tone. "How may I help you?"

"I need a twin and a double," Dean said. "One night."

He nodded and drew a clipboard towards him. He pushed it over the desk and said, "Fill that out."

Dean took the pen and began to fill in fictional details for them. When each box was filled, he handed over the credit card from Sam's wallet and waited as the man run it through the system. "It'll be $100 even for the night," he said. "You've got thirteen and fourteen. They'd on the end. Thirteen's the double."

"Yeah, fine," Dean said distractedly. "Thanks."

He signed and took his credit card back and the two room cards. He was turning to leave when the man said. "Is that blood on your jacket?"

Dean looked down and saw a patch of dark red on his jacket. It must have transferred from Sam when he'd hugged him.

"I spilled my drink," Dean said.

"Looks like blood to me."

"It isn't. Thanks for your help."

He rushed out of the office and back to the car where Sam was sitting with his head tilted back and a hand on the bloodiest part of his shirt. Dean yanked open the door. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, straightening up. "You know grace feels weird. It's healing slowly so it feels weird for longer. I'm fine."

"Fine?" Dean growled. "That word is losing all meaning coming from you."

"What would you prefer?"

"I would prefer that you go to a hospital," Dean said. "But if you're going to keep being a stubborn ass about that, I'm checking your wound as soon as we get in our room."

"Sure, fine," Sam said lazily.

Sam climbed out and went to the trunk. Dean unlocked it and took out their bags and the med kit they kept there. Sam reached for the bag and wavered.

"Seriously, Sam!" Dean said, steadying him with a hand on his back. "You need a doctor."

"I need you to stop stressing," Sam said. "It's just the blood I lost. You know grace can't fix that. Get me juice and a cookie and it'll be good."

Sighing, Dean shouldered his bag and handed Sam the keycard. "We've got thirteen. Get your ass in there."

Sam walked away, his footsteps slow, and Dean went to the vending machines outside the office. He got two cans of soda and some candy bars. Sam was joking about needing juice and a cookie, but Dean was going to get some sugar into him.

He went to the room and followed Sam inside before letting the door swing closed behind him. "Okay," he said. "Sit your ass down and let me look at what I did to you."

"Michael did it," Sam said firmly.

He took off his shirt though and sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Dean with an air of obvious impatience.

Dean went into the bathroom and soaked the edge of a thin towel in cool water then carried it back to the room and pushed Sam so he was leaning back on his elbows. He wiped at the drying blood around the wound and then wiped it clean with an alcohol wipe. Sam didn't even flinch as he touched the wound.

"It is healing," Dean conceded. "I don't think you're going to need stitches anyway."

"Told ya."

Dean dried the area and covered it with a dressing. "I still think you should have got it checked out. It looks like it went deep."

Sam sat up. "Dean, I know it's probably easier for you to displace onto me instead of talking about what happened to you, but I'm fine."

"Who's displacing?" Dean asked, a bite to his tone.

"You are. And I get it, but you can stop now. I'm fine."

Dean picked up a can of soda from the table and said, "Shut up and drink this."

Sam grinned as he popped the top and took a swig. Dean was surprised at his easy acceptance, and then he realized Sam had gotten exactly what he'd wanted. Dean had dropped the subject of getting him checked out and was now distracted by avoiding the topic Sam knew he would hate to discuss.

"Bitch," he muttered.

Sam laughed. "Jerk." He took another swig of his soda. "It's not that late. Want to go get a drink? Mom and Cas won't be here for a while."

"No, I want you to lie down and rest your penetrating gut wound."

"Probably a good idea," Sam said taking another drink.

Dean sat on a chair opposite him and watched Sam as he set down his soda then rooted in his duffel and took out a clean t-shirt. He pulled it on, concealing the dressing on his stomach, and Dean surveyed him. He was a little pale, but he had lost blood so that was explained. His hands were steady though and his eyes alert and bright. Dean thought he probably was okay.

"So, what happened while I was gone?" he asked.

Sam considered a moment. "A lot of craziness to be honest. Nick is alive."

Dean gaped. "Lucifer's vessel Nick?"

"Yeah. We were in the church, just after Michael took off, and he woke up in a hell of a lot of pain. I thought it was Lucifer at first, and I wasn't sure whether to start stabbing or running, but Jack could see that it wasn't an angel. It looks like the archangel blade kills the angel but not the vessel. He was banged up, but he's healing well."

"Where is he?"

"In the dungeon. He's not chained up, but we all felt better with him somewhere we could lock him down if we needed to. We should probably get back there actually. No one else seems ready to go near him yet. They still see Lucifer."

"And you don't?" Dean was surprised Sam was able to be around him after everything Lucifer had put him through. He would have expected Sam to be the last person to want to face him.

Sam shrugged. "Someone had to help him. And it wasn't Nick's fault what happened. He says he was desperate when Lucifer came to him, his family had been murdered. He was in a bad place and made a mistake. We've both been there."

Dean understood what he was referring to, Ruby and Cain, and neither of them needed to say more.

"What about Bobby? How's he doing? And Charlie."

"Rowena and Charlie's road trip was cut short by the Michael problem, so Charlie took off on her own while Rowena came back to help. Bobby is pretty much sticking with Mom. They were both working on the Michael problem with me. He takes care of the rest of his people, too. They're all set up in the Rodeway in town. Bobby says some of them about talking about starting to hunt. They seem to want to do something more than just sit around Lebanon."

"You think that's a good idea?" Dean asked. "Just because they lived in crazy town, doesn't mean they're cut out for hunting."

"They've lived through a war, Dean. They're more prepared for it than anyone I know starting out. I don't think they can just step back and build a regular life. They need to keep fighting." Sam yawned widely then touched a hand to his stomach and winced.

"Sam Dean started.

"It's nothing," Sam said. "Just the grace." He yawned again.

Dean stood up and plucked the can out of Sam's hand. "Okay, you're sleeping now."

"You seriously expect me to be able to sleep? Dean, I just got you back. We need to talk."

Dean saw his genuine fear, and he thought he understood. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," he said. "I'll be here in the morning, and we can talk all you like then. Right now, you're going to sleep and heal."

Sam looked defiant for a moment, and then he sighed and swung his legs up on the bed and settled on his side, facing away from Dean. Dean tugged the blankets out from under him with effort and threw them over him.

"Sleep," he said. "I'm sure Mom will wake you up when she gets here. She's going to be pissed that you handcuffed her to a table."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah. Maybe tell her to let me sleep. She can haul me over the coals tomorrow."

"Coward."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I am."

Dean patted his back and said, "You're really not, Sam. It took guts to do what you did, coming after Michael like that. He could have killed you."

"You did it for me when Lucifer had me," Sam said. "And I trusted you. He couldn't have killed me."

Dean closed his eyes, glad Sam couldn't see his pained face. He thought they'd got off lucky with Sam's wound. If he didn't have the grace in him, Sam would be dead. As it was, Dean was going to have nightmares about what could have happened—more nightmares to add to the many he already had.

"I'm going to get some air," he told Sam.

Sam didn't respond, and Dean leaned over him to see he was already asleep.

"Told ya," Dean murmured, turning on the dim lamp beside the bed and flipping off the overhead light.

He quickly changed out of Michael's suit and into his own jeans and shirt, pausing when he saw the scar on his upper arm. He hadn't had it when Michael had taken him over, so that meant it was Michael's injury. He knew he needed to find out what had happened, so they could make a plan for what happened next. If Michael could be injured with a weapon other than the archangel blade it was going to be vital to stopping him.

He slipped out into the cool night air, shivering. He didn't have a jacket, but he didn't care. The fact he could even feel the cold felt good. It was infinitely better than the icy water that had drowned him while Michael had been in charge.

He looked up at the sky, seeing the few stars that were creeping through the cloudy sky. He'd thought he would never see stars again, or his brother and family. He had been more scared of that than the water that constantly drowned him. It felt like a miracle that he was back, but he hated that it had almost come at the cost of Sam's life. If Michael had aimed different, if he'd gone for the quick kill instead of the hurt, Dean would have stayed trapped and Sam would have died.

Sam had saved him, and they were together and almost okay—Sam just needed time to heal. It was how close it had come to ending differently that scared Dean. Luck had got them both out of it alive, but there would come a time when their luck would run out.


So… Dean is back properly and Sam is healing. If only it was really that easy, right? Unless this is the first time you're reading one of my stories, you know better. If you are a first timer… good luck and welcome.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx