AN: I think I've come to the conclusion that I hate my computer. I spend hours of my life working and...well... wasting time on it, forgetting what a spiteful little bitch she is. Wrote a lovely rant that was completely deleted, but one I will try to recreate nevertheless. Because I'm stubborn that way. :D

But! Anyway. I think the reason SoullessSam was good for Dean was because most of Dean's issues come from his brother, right? So Sam being soulless helped Dean-on-TV to realize just exactly how much worse life could look. Then I started thinking: What if Dean-on-paper had no such experience? It seems RoboSam somehow pounded through just how bad the consequences of his actions (diving into hell) were. So it's resonable to assume that without that year and a half Dean wouldn't have seen the gesture for quite what it was worth. Would've made him less inclined to let go of the whimpy teenage girl emotions that seemed right at home in most of his monologues during the 4'th season and more inclined to take his brother for granted. Not literally or callously so of course, because Dean is awesome :) But yeah. Agree, disagree? Comments, questions?

Chapter 4: Sunlight

Later in the day Dean was ready to leave. He wanted Sam and himself as far away from these freaks as possible. He was considering jumping ship and searching out the hunters. Maybe they'd have a slightly more liberal view of things? He glanced down at Sam, still resting and doubted it. But when someone knocked on the door he realized he was ready to take that chance.

"Dean? Can I come in?" It was Soledad on the other side.

Dean stared at it before growling in response.

She entered with her hands in her pockets. "How's he doing?"

"Still sleeping."

"Everybody's talking outside."

"Yeah, what're they saying?" Dean didn't really care, but even that conversation was better than the no conversation coming from his brother.

"They're worried." She looked long and hard at him. "They want answers, but Denna's keeping tight about it.

"Denna's the bitch that did this, right?" He gestured offhandedly to Sam.

"She was the one who ordered it yes. I'm not sure who has that particular power, though." She drew a deep breath. "Are you leaving?"

Dean stared at his brother's limp form. "Yes."

She nodded with her eyes downcast. "When?"

"As soon as he's ready."

She nodded again and waited silently for half a minute. When she realized he was done talking she left. Dean stayed on the bed, not out of some twisted sense of devotion, no. There was just nothing better to do. No company, a tiny bowl of boring oatmeal that was now cold, no entertainment. Just the sound of people walking by outside his door occasionally and the tense feeling that any minute someone would break in and take his brother from him all over again. It was killing him quicker than cholesterol ever would.

Later that evening Sam woke up, feeling weak, but ready to leave. He agreed with Dean that it was too risky to stay if there was a chance the psychics could discover who they really were. They left through the front door at night. It was two nights past a full moon, but the sky was clear so even with a city wide blackout the streets were visible.

Jason and his soldiers watched them leave, but didn't try to stop them. No one did.

The road stretched out in front of them like a river. Dean suddenly got an eerie flashback to his trip through heaven. The sun had come up about half an hour earlier. He frowned into the already bright dawn. Sam was keeping up, but looking washed out amd they both stopped automatically when a flutter of air brushed by.

"Sam,"

Sam looked up.

A few feet in front of them Castiel was standing, watching them both while a smile slowly split his face. "Dean. Sam." He wasn't in his usual trench coat, but in a black suit like his dick-brothers all wore. Set Dean's teeth on edge. "It's good to see you, my friends." He placed one hand on each of their shoulders.

"Cass?" Sam patted his arm back and smiled. Washed out and weak looking.

Dean wasn't as forgiving. "Took you long enough."

Cass released them and looked down. "I realize. It's becoming increasingly difficult for us to come to earth."

"Why?" Sam asked concerned.

"We believe the psychics have a way of sensing our presence. Whenever one of us descends, the psychics come."

Dean looked around on instinct. He remembered more than people gave him credit for. Like the fact that some demons scared the angels. Like the fact that all demons were once human. The most inner private, little theory in the very back of his mind said that maybe angels could learn to fear humans as well. Maybe there was a really good reason why Sam was no one's favorite angel-pet. Maybe his powers being evil was never the problem. Maybe it was just that his powers existed at all.

Sam frowned, completely engrossed. "But why not just let them see you?"

"If we did they would kill us." Castiel's voice dipped.

"What, why? How?" Sam asked softly in disbelief.

"The world has changed since you left it." Which was predictably vague.

Maybe this Castiel had a rule about sharing too much info with people outside his own time zone as well? "Speaking of that-" Dean interrupted. "If I left three hundred years ago and technically hasn't returned yet, does that mean this hasn't happened at all?"

"You are asking if you changed history?" Castiel frowned. "No the past has already happened. In the past you and Sam are returned and continue on as promised," He looked like he tried to smile. "But as for the present, we still need to make sure that happens."

"Which, according to you, it will, right?" Dean asked. He didn't know why, but this Cass made him nervous. And speaking from experience he knew the future could change. Had made it change himself. So either this was different because Cass was on their side and the reason they'd been brought here, or he was lying. The latter didn't really take hold consciously, but festered somewhere in his subconscious and joined the pre-existing anger.

"But why do things look like this if we returned?" Sam interrupted.

"Because you were never meant to ensure everlasting peace," the angel answered as if reading off a grocery list.

They all tensed. Dean knew it wasn't what his brother had hoped to hear, but knew it was a probable answer and possibly also the cause of Cass' unusual behavior. Sam was too caught up in the grand scheme of things, because it wasn't that far-fetched to believe they could do it, given the right tools. They had stopped several apocalypses so far, right? Why not ensure everlasting peace on earth?

But declaring the moment passed and over, Dean continued. "Well alright then," He clapped his hands. "Don't know about you guys, but I feel a little lighter already." He slapped his brother's shoulder. "Now. About this book?"

"Of course. I don't have much time. They already know I'm here."

"How can you tell?"

"I can feel them coming. The book was last seen in the library."

Dean tried with all his might not to sigh. "Right. Which one?"

"Either one." Castiel looked straight at him. He was more distanced than the Cass he knew. "On the Day of Destruction most libraries were burnt down. Collectors of the Winchester Chronicles were assassinated and their books were burned."

"Why?"

"We do not know."

"And you think one of these books is still in the library?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Yes, but I doubt it's safe for you to go there. The only library in the vicinity is across the river."

"In Canada?" Sam asked.

Immediately Dean's smile returned. "I always wanted to go to Canada."

Sam huffed at him.

"The library is in the sealed zone."

Dean's grin melted off. "And what exactly is sealed inside the sealed zone?"

"Croatoans." Castiel answered, his eyes continuously looking over their surroundings.

"Look, are you sure a copy of the book is there?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"And there's nowhere else nearby it could be?"

"I don't believe so. I've looked very thoroughly-" He stopped short when something the brothers couldn't hear caught his attention.

"Cass, what is it?" Dean asked, looking around again.

"They're coming. I must go." His voice suddenly got urgent. "There is an old museum two blocks west. Go there for the weapons you need."

"No offense, but I don't think a museum's gonna have what we need." Dean said.

"In the section dedicated to you, they will." Castiel said before again placing one hand on each their shoulders and vanishing.

Sam and Dean flinched when distant voices reached their ears. "Don't know about you, but I doubt they'll be very understanding of us consorting with supernatural creatures."

"Yeah," Sam agreed and led them into an alley. "You don't think they can sense us, do you?"

The brothers stared at each other until a shout sounded much closer. "Don't know, but I'm not waiting around to find out." He pulled Sam with him and made his way towards the museum.

"Detroit Wax Museum," Dean read aloud with a grimace. "Seriously?"

Sam pushed them inside before he could change his mind.

"What the hell is a wax museum doing with a gun exhibit?" Inside everything was a mess. Completely quiet as well.

"Maybe Cass got it wrong and they're fakes?" Sam wondered and earned a scowl from his brother.

"The Winchester Exhibit? This way," Dean pointed, still a little sour. Not having had anything but freeze-dried oatmeal since yesterday morning was starting to wear on him. Sam had eaten little else as well, but was faring much better which just irked the older brother more.

They entered a large hall and stopped in awe. Dust covered everything, but it was still abundantly clear that they had been the ones celebrated. There was even a black Chevy Impala placed on a podium. Dean walked over to it with an inconsolable longing and read the little plaque. "This is the car which once belonged to the infamous Winchester brothers. This car is a copy of the vehicle in which they traveled the country to hunt demons, ghosts and monsters."

"It does not say 'infamous'." Sam mocked.

"Dude, I swear," Dean turned with a grin. "And they even got all the details on it too," he noted with a touch of sadness. "I guess the stuff Chuck put in the books. Right down to that little army-man you crammed into the backseat ashtray."

Sam smiled and moved through the room. The car had stopped Lucifer, but it wasn't the car, nor was the car more important than his brother or the future of the entire human race. He was cogent enough to put things into perspective despite the constant fear that had been creeping ever closer since his resurrection.

Dean stopped in front of figures of him and Sam. "They still think you look like Fabio," he grumbled.

"I think I found it." Sam called and moved to the locked weapons cabinet.

"Bingo." Dean came over and stared at his very own arsenal. "Time to see if it's real." He looked around and found a fire extinguisher to smash the old locks with. The locks broke and the Plexiglas cabinet door slid open to reveal items in mint condition. "Oh this is definitely better than last time," he remarked absently as he plucked down a .45. "Wanna see if it works?" He took a clip and aligned for a shot into the far wall. He pulled the trigger and felt the recoil jerk his entire arm. It felt good. Familiar.

"Huh," Sam said pleasantly and took the Taurus. "You think these are actually our weapons?"

Dean looked at the display. "Don't know. The colt ain't here,"

"Yeah I noticed." Sam slid a clip into the Taurus and checked the sights. "Whatta ya think we'll need?"

Dean glanced up before returning attention to the gun. "Everything."

They grabbed as much as they could carry. His brother favored the knife section, über-geek that he was, while Dean grabbed a little from everywhere. Paperclips, knuckles, switchblades, a kick-ass hunting knife, boot knife. Sam found a display of mini-knives to be used for throwing no doubt. His brother was such a block-head sometimes, it was ridiculous. They both found iron knives and silver plated knives. Dean frowned when something innocuous looking caught his attention. Another weapon as the sign declared. This one was locked away in a separate display case.

"Dude," He tapped Sam's shoulder and grabbed the lock-picking set from the wall.

"What is it?"

"Looks like a can opener." Dean smirked and pulled it from the wall. He grabbed it. "Shit, Sam. It's plastic." He snorted and waved it at his brother.

Sam frowned uneasily at it and drew back. "Maybe you shouldn't play with it, man?"

Dean was swinging it around his index finger through a little hole at the tip. "C'mon, it's like a toy." He said mockingly, but changed his tone to pure curiosity in a second. "Whatta ya think we used it for?"

"Well, what does it say?" Sam gestured to the plaque over its cage.

Dean wheezed in amusement. "The Predator!" He held it up proudly. "Created to inflict damage to the body's chakra points." He was holding it loosely in one hand. It was shaped like a hand without fingers with a slightly curved handle. "One hundred percent biodegradable, this weapon is completely environmentally friendly and was introduced to the Winchester arsenal in the mid 21'st century." He snorted. At the edge where the index- and middle finger should've sat it was ribbed. Where the ring- and pinky finger should've been there was a tiny, elongated blade, barely broad enough for cutting paper. "Says here it was designed to be used in a special U.S. Armed Forces branch so we probably got it from one of dad's army buddies."

"Say which branch?" Sam asked absently while picking out his favorites among the large knife selection.

"No." Where the thumb should've been it went into a little tip, like tip of a drop. A few seconds passed while Sam was suiting up for war until Dean tore himself away from the plaque. "Says here you just tap the little tip-thingy right above the collarbone or in the center of the forehead." He turned the Predator in his hand and studied the drip-shaped weapon. He then tapped the little device against Sam's forehead without any real gusto.

Sam flinched back violently and stumbled down in an explosion of flailing arms and curses. "Jesus!" He huffed indignantly as he rose to his feet.

Granted, it was probably Dean's low blood sugar that made him a little more sadistic than usual, but he really did intend to apologize. "Shit, I'm sorry!" Though he didn't really look sorry. He was smiling. Gleefully. "Said you could deck a man with just one tap." He looked at the little plastic thingy. "Maybe I didn't hit hard enough?"

Sam scrambled back as he advanced again. "Dude, don't!" He held up his hand.

"C'mon, suck it up." he teased.

"Do you have any idea how much that hurt?" Sam rubbed his forehead with a scowl.

"I promise I won't do it again." Dean stepped back and allowed his brother to finish getting his weapons. The second Sam let his guard down Dean turned in a whirl and slipped one of Sam's fingers through the small hole in the device and flipped him around.

Sam landed on his back, panting. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" he shouted when he managed to get to his feet.

Dean was all teeth. "Dude, this is fucking awesome! I hardly moved at all!" His voice shrilled on the last sentence.

Sam grumbled and dusted himself off before starting for the door. "You're insane, ya know that."

"You're surprised?" Dean just grabbed a spare clip and the Predator before following his brother out. Fuckin' AWESOME! He pumped a fist in the air.

Unfortunately for both of them Dean's lightheartedness didn't last for long. Just inside the main entrance they heard the commotion of people, trying to get in. They turned back and headed out the back entrance. "Guess we figured out whether or not they knew where we were," he grumbled as they fled down an alley.

They reached the old Ambassador Bridge in a full out run when it dawned on them exactly how difficult this job was going to be. "It's gone," Sam sighed with a sinking feeling as he took in the suspension bridge which looked like a giant had taken a bite out of it in the middle. About half a mile out the wires had been ripped out of their sockets when the lane had collapsed, probably an attempt to contain the Croatian infection on the Canadian side.

"Wonder how tall this thing is," Dean wondered aloud as they trotted closer to the gaping hole.

They stopped a safe distance away and looked down into the foaming masses of the Detroit River.

"It's 152 ft. tall and 7.500 ft. long." Sam fired off without even having to think about it.

"You think explosives did this?" Dean noted that it looked like missiles had been dropped, which wasn't at all comforting, exposing the middle part of the bridge. Leaving no way to go but down. He sighed and came to a complete stop with his brother next to him, just seven feet from the edge. "We're gonna have to cross it." he said when shouts echoed among the abandoned streets behind them. It wouldn't be long until they'd be able to see the psychics storming the bridge.

"How? Fly?" Sam mouthed off. He was huffing and puffing. "A fall of about 150 feet is survivable, but not really something I'm anxious to try."

"Yeah," Dean was looking down with an intense expression. "I bet my burger they won't follow, though." He got a look in his eye that could only be described as mild insanity and passion, if one was being generous one might say he looked just crazy enough.

The psychics appeared around a building in the distance. Still about half a mile out, but gaining. Not running anymore now that they had their prey cornered.

Sam was starting to doubt his brother's objectivism, favoring a starvation induced sugar imbalance as a possibility for his outrageous suggestion, but began considering it when he heard them yelling their names. With a curse, he started thinking of ways to jump without breaking both legs on impact. Or their necks.

Dean lunged, but Sam grabbed his jacket with a burst of panic. "We can't just dive off, we won't survive!"

The older brother frowned in the direction they'd come at the group of about fifty or sixty psychics, striding down the bridge. Apparently they weren't expecting them to jump either if their leisurely tempo was any suggestion, and the inference just pissed Dean off. "So what do we do. How do we get outta this?" He was beginning to panic.

Sam looked around. Where the roads in the city were empty the bridge was littered with busted cars. Weird looking cars, but still. Metallic hulks, some of them leaning over the edge like they were balancing on an inch. "We break the water."

"What?"

He moved over to one of the teetering cars and walked around it. "We break the surface right before we hit it."

"Sam, it's water." Dean sounded convinced his brother had finally gone off the deep end. He winced at the thought and looked down.

"Yeah but the surface of water is harder on impact than earth-" he glanced back when someone yelled. He thought it might be Jason. "If you hit the water wrong it's like diving into a concrete wall." He moved around to the car and tried to nudge it. It bobbed willingly and looked just about to fall. "Basically we'd explode." He looked up at his brother who was quickly losing his zeal to make the Fugitive swan dive he'd envisioned before.

"But you can survive it, right?" His eyes were fixed on the advancing psychics. They were trotting now and halfway to their position. Big-ass, tactical assault rifles slung over their arms.

"In theory you can if you break the surface just before you hit and if you hit the water just right."

"How?" Dean was beginning to feel the panic rip him two ways. One side of his brain really wanted out of there while the other was contemplating the odds of going up against several dozen psychics.

"I think a sailor's dive." Sam looked up at caught his brother's eye.

"Great. What's that?"

"You basically roll into a ball and make sure to hit the water with your shoulders. Tuck your head in."

"A cannonball?" He pitched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Sam shrugged. "If you roll you shouldn't get the same shock as you would from just hitting the water feet or head first." He glanced over the edge. "Besides our heads would probably be pressed into our chest cavity at this height."

Dean swallowed and took a few steps closer to the car. "So roll into a ball, make sure I hit the water with my shoulders and keep rolling as I do?"

"And take a deep breath before impact, yeah."

"Great." He sighed, beginning to accept that this was actually happening. He'd liked it better when the plan had been to just jump off and hope for the best. Swallowing again and breathing a deep sigh, he moved over opposite his brother behind the car. "So we push in the car and follow it down."

"Wait a second or two before we jump, and it should work." Sam looked like he was about to shit himself.

Dean could relate. "And we won't hit the car in the water?"

"Uh,"

His incredulous expression actually made Sam wince. "Uh? You don't know!"

"Dean, this isn't an exact science-"

"Unless you're a stuntman-"

"Which I'm not so this is a badass gamble no matter how you spin it!"

Dean looked over the edge and back at the psychics who were now so close that he could make out individual faces. Soledad and Jason were among them, he noted. "How tall you say this thing was?"

"152 feet."

"And an average human can survive a fall of up to one-fifty?"

His hands were shaking. "Yeah." He was staring fixatedly at his brother while Dean looked at the advancing people.

"Wanna try?"

All the air left his lungs in great big whoosh. "Alright." Sam grabbed the chassis and waited for his brother to do the same before he pushed.

"They won't jump," Jason said with a note of worry as he led his guys closer to the two strangers. A car tipped over the edge.

"They won't."

Dean watched the car sail over the bridge in a graceful swan dive and heard his brother shout, "Now!" before he followed him over the edge in a perfect rendition of Harrison Ford.

"Holy shit!" Jason cried and began running with his men behind him. As one the entirety of the group inhaled in shock as their two targets dove off the Ambassador and into Detroit River.

TBC