A/N: Last chapter! Happy Halloween, everybody!

They made it through the first room without incident, for which Sam was immensely grateful. Every time he heard that stupid clown giggle behind him, he felt a chill run up his spine. He understood now why Dean had punched the worker in the first room. He knew it was fake, he knew it, but all his instincts were screaming at him that he was in danger. And outside that, he just thought it would be really cathartic to punch a clown.

Behind him, Cas was still stumbling wearily along, head down. Sam wondered briefly why none of the real workers had stopped the three of them and tried to figure out what was wrong with him. But he supposed it was dark, and the trench coat hid most of the blood. Maybe they thought he was drunk.

Sam heard another shrill laugh nearby, and there was a small whimper behind him. He turned around to find Cas doubled over in pain, shrinking away from a clown with a jagged Joker smile. Dean was shaking his head menacingly at the clown, gesturing emphatically toward Sam. Ordinarily, Sam would have been thinking about inventive ways to get back at his brother, but he was willing to do pretty much anything to keep Cas standing. Even if it meant dealing with clowns.

The next few rooms went by quickly, Sam doing his best to ignore the circus freaks and horrifying clowns dancing around him. He kept his attention on Cas, trying to keep the angel upright as he coughed blood onto the floor and stumbled along beside Dean. Finally, they made it to the last segment, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Cas had gone an unhealthy shade of grey by this point, and he seemed barely able to keep his eyes open. Sam didn't think he could stay conscious much longer.

In front of them was another line, and Sam shot a worried look at Cas, who was swaying silently in place. Sam hadn't spotted the last ghoul yet, and they were running out of time. It must be waiting for them in the final passage. Sam watched the line move. It looked like the workers were only letting a few visitors through at a time. Perfect for a trap.

The worker waved them through, and Sam and Dean pulled Cas into the next room. They took a few steps down the long freak show hallway, and Sam waited for his eyes to adjust to the murky light. He blinked, and his eyes caught movement.

"Dean," he hissed, and his brother nodded tightly.

"I see him," Dean whispered back. "I got Cas. Go."

Sam slipped his angel blade out of his pocket and approached the ghoul, his vision adjusting to the darkness. As he closed in, there was a flicker of movement next to him, and he shouted a warning cry.

"There's more than one!"

Sam's own ghoul suddenly closed the distance between them, raising a wicked-looking knife. Unlike the props in the haunted house, this one looked real. Sam caught the first strike near the hilt of his blade, then hooked the ghoul's legs out from under it. The monster slammed heavily to the floor, rolling out of the way before Sam could finish the job. It leapt to its feet, darting towards Sam, but Sam knocked the knife out of its hand and buried the blade in its skull. As the ghoul crumpled to the ground, a choked off scream rang out from behind Sam. He turned, heart leaping into his throat.

One of the ghouls had managed to back Dean and Cas up against the wall. In an attempt to separate them, probably to pick off Cas, it had seemingly hit Cas right in his wounded side. Cas was now on the ground, pale-faced and gasping for breath. He clutched at the wound desperately as more blood and blue-white light trickled through his fingers.

As Sam watched, one of the ghouls grabbed Dean's arm and snapped it in one smooth, fluid motion. Dean cried out, immediately stumbling backwards a few steps. His injured arm hung useless at his side. He had managed to somehow keep hold of his angel blade, which he held in his uninjured hand. But that hand was shaking so badly that Sam thought there was no way he could fight.

Sam threw himself forward. He managed to knock the ghoul off balance, but then the ghoul's legs were tangled in his own and they were both on the ground. Sam's head hit the cement floor of the warehouse with a sharp crack. But he was lucky, after two blinks the afterimage had mostly cleared from his eyes and he could lunge for the ghoul again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Cas trying to struggle to his feet, leaving smears of red on the wall. "Cas, no!" Sam yelled. The thought of the wounded angel trying to join the fight gave Sam the burst of energy he needed. Sam reached blindly with one hand and found the ghoul's throat. He shoved the heel of his palm into it as hard as he could, and was gratified when he heard a strangled choking sound.

Sam had dropped his angel blade, but with the ghoul pinned in place he had the few seconds he needed to fumble for it. His fingers touched metal. He snatched the angel blade up, and in the same motion he drove it into the ghoul's skull. Instantly, the ghoul went limp beneath him. Sam drew himself up to his knees, panting as he tried to clear his spinning head.

A third ghoul had tried to sneak up behind Dean. It was actually thanks to Cas that he'd been able to kill the sonofabitch without so much as a fight. He'd seen the sudden tightening of his friend's eyes, and trusting blind instinct, he'd spun around and struck out with his blade at approximately head height. To his surprise, he had buried the blade in a ghoul's skull, and it had immediately crumpled. He nodded, satisfied, as he heard Sam dispatch the third ghoul behind him.

It was a good thing this ghoul hadn't put up much of a fight. Dean was pretty sure his arm was broken. It was okay if he held it very still, tucked against his side, but if he tried to so much as wiggle his fingers it sent shockwaves of pain radiating through his whole body. His other hand was shaking, even though as far as he knew, that one hadn't been damaged.

"Is that all of them?" Dean asked, looking around. He half-expected more ghouls to start materializing out of the shadows, even though the hallway around them was silent.

"I think so," Sam said. "I hope so." Dean watched, worried, as Sam pushed himself to his feet. Thankfully, he seemed steady. Dean didn't think he would be able to support Cas on his own anymore.

Speaking of Cas...Dean turned around, pushing the pain in his arm to the back of his mind. Cas was still slumped against the wall, trying futilely to push himself upright.

"Hey, Cas, it's okay. They're dead," Dean said, putting his uninjured hand on Cas's shoulder.

Cas blinked at Dean, and after an agonizingly long few seconds, he focused on Dean's. The angel nodded and his head fell back against the wall, eyes closing to slits.

"You gotta wake up, Cas," Dean said softly. "We're gonna get you out of here, but you gotta help us out."

Sam knelt beside them, and his sharp eyes went to Dean's arm, still tucked against his body. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing what was coming.

"Dean, are you alright? That arm looks nasty."

"I'll be fine. I'm not the one bleeding out," Dean said, nodding at Cas. "Come on. You're gonna have to do the heavy lifting."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but Cas chose that moment to groan softly, his face tightened in pain. Instantly, Sam's attention switched to the angel, and he grabbed Cas underneath his shoulders and heaved him to his feet. Before he could take Cas's weight, the angel crumpled, unable to stand. Without thinking, Dean reached out his uninjured arm and caught his friend. He gasped, the movement sending a shockwave of pain through his system, but managed to keep Cas from falling.

Sam shot him a look, looping his arm around Cas's waist. Dean did the same, willing his wrist to stop throbbing.

"You sure you're okay to help?" Sam asked, the skeptical look not leaving his face.

Dean nodded, gritting his teeth. "I didn't break both arms," he pointed out.

Sam scowled, but apparently couldn't think of another way to protest. Slowly, they shuffled forward, Cas hanging limply between them. At this point, the angel wasn't even trying to walk, his feet dragging on the ground as Sam and Dean pulled him along.

"Still with us, Cas?" Dean asked, not liking how pale the angel had gotten, almost translucent.

Cas moaned slightly, probably as near to an answer as Dean could have expected. He didn't open his eyes, not even as his body shook and he began coughing again, more blood trickling down his face.

"Almost there, buddy," Dean told him, knowing that the words were mostly for his own benefit.

Everything had been reduced to a jumble of blurry, half-realized images and sounds, and Cas was having trouble forcing sense into it. He thought Dean was beside him, talking, which meant Sam must be here too. But opening his eyes would be too much work, and he couldn't get the words to make anything resembling sense. All he could really understand was the pain. And the weakness. He couldn't seem to get his legs under him, and he thought they might need to fight ghouls, and it would be very bad if they fought ghouls while he was still like this. That would put the Winchesters in danger. That would….

He realized he had one hand still pressed tight against his wound. He tried to press it tighter. That was the whole problem, things were coming out of the wound, things he needed like blood and, more importantly, his grace. He tangled his fingers in the blood-soaked bandages that Dean had put over his stomach, and tried to keep everything in place.

Cas could hear that they were still in the haunted house. The world was a swirl of sounds, and it all kind of blended together. He could hear Dean, saying things that were probably nice. He could hear kids screaming, clowns laughing. A faint buzz in the background that could be a generator or a chainsaw or a vacuum cleaner.

He realized his legs weren't working. Hadn't been for a while. He tried to push himself to his feet. What if the ghouls attacked them? That would put the Winchesters in danger. He….

He opened his eyes for a split second, just to make sure they were still in the haunted house. They were. Everything around him was too bright, so he closed them again quickly.

"Hey, Cas." Sam's voice cut through the noise. Cas forced his tired eyes open again. Sam's face loomed in front of him, blurry and pulsing faintly in and out with the beat of Cas's heart. "We're almost out. Just down this last hallway, and through that little doorway, and then we're done."

Cas tried to nod, and he may or may not have succeeded. He closed his eyes again. Sam and Dean dragged him forward. He reminded himself that they were almost done, which was a relief, because he knew he wasn't doing anything and he still wasn't sure how much longer he could keep doing it.

But the ghouls, had they...had they killed them already? Or were they still out there? Cas was exhausted, but he needed to focus. Otherwise, that...that would put the Winchesters in danger. And that….

Cas finally succumbed to the darkness.

Sam was counting the steps to the Impala by the time he felt Cas drop. Sam caught the angel without a second thought. He'd been expecting Cas to pass out a lot sooner.

Dean gasped, and Sam glanced over the back of Cas's head to find his brother pale-faced and tight-lipped. He opened his mouth to ask if Dean was okay, but one glance from Dean quelled him. Sam concentrated on moving Cas forward, promising himself that he'd look at Dean's arm once they made it to the Impala.

It was only a few more minutes before they were standing by the car, lowering Cas carefully into the backseat, but it felt like an eternity. Cas hadn't revived, and they'd had to drag his deadweight the entire rest of the way. Now, he was lying in the backseat, head pillowed on his ever-present trenchcoat, covered by a blanket Dean had dug out of the trunk. His face was bloodless and grey, but Sam thought that the dark spot of blood on the blanket had stopped growing.

"He'll be okay," Dean said, and Sam turned toward him. Dean raised his good hand, giving Sam a smile that he could see right through. "I will be too."

"Let me see," Sam told him, and before Dean could protest, he took his brother's arm as gently as he could. Dean hissed through closed teeth, and Sam breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I don't think we need to set it right now," he told Dean. "You can ice it while I drive back to the bunker."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You? Drive?"

"Yep," Sam said firmly, holding his hand out for the keys and wiggling his fingers. Dean glared at him and dropped the keys into his hand, slouching into the passenger seat. Sam dug through the cooler and tossed Dean an ice pack.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked, and Dean nodded with relief.

"Finally."

Cas woke to the sound of arguing. At first, he didn't quite know where he was. And then he felt the slight rock of motion and heard the soft growl of the Impala's engine. He was warm, and he was still in pain but he could tell as soon as he focused that the wound was finally starting to heal. Cas kept his eyes closed and let the sounds around him wash over him.

"I'm just sayin' could be easy money."

"No, we aren't opening our own haunted house, Dean."

"Come on, all we gotta do is find some spirit-infested dump, we're golden. If people wanna be scared I say we let 'em. Come on in, stay behind the salt, that'll be 50 bucks at the door, just sign this release form, standard stuff, don't sue us if your ass gets haunted."

"Dean-"

"No flaws, Sammy. This plan has no flaws."

Cas smiled softly and let the movement of the car rock him gently back to sleep. The Winchesters' words turned to nonsense in his ears, and blackness crept slowly in around the edges of his mind, but this time it was different. This time he was safe.