Chapter Four
When Dean next woke, he was alone in his bedroom, both his brother and Cas nowhere to be seen. Scrubbing at his eyes, he groaned as he skirted himself to the edge of the bed, dropping his legs over the side to push himself into a seated position. It hadn't taken as much effort out of him as he'd expected. And as he rose to his feet he quickly realised the stiffness he was feeling was from lying in the same stretched out position for however long he'd been out, and not from the pain that had flooded his body when he had first awoken from the spell.
Crossing to his door, a yawn slipped past his lips as he stepped out into the hall. Rubbing a hand over what was no doubt a bad case of bed hair, Dean headed left, traversing several hallways before reaching Sam's room. The door stood ajar. Placing a hand against it, he pushed it open and found the room empty. Glancing around, he spotted a pile of discarded clothing on the floor beside the bed. He recognised it as what Sam had been wearing earlier, making him wonder just how long the kid had been up and if Sammy was actually fully awake yet. Sam was usually anal about dumping his clothing in the laundry hamper by the side of the door rather than leaving it on the floor like this.
Shaking his head, Dean let it go and decided to heed the call of his bladder, making his next stop the bathroom to take a leak. With his bodily function appeased, Dean stripped out of his grimy clothing - the same clothing he'd had on for god knows how many days now – and pointedly ignored looking at his inner right arm. Because looking down meant he might find out that everything that had happened in the past however many hours was nothing more than a dream.
So he stepped into the third of the five shower cubicles - the one he'd designated as his own when they'd first moved in – without looking, without touching, and twisted the faucet dial to switch the shower on. Closing his eyes, he raised his face to the water flooding out of the metal showerhead and savoured the feeling of the hot water cascading over his body; relished the feeling of the soapy suds scrubbing away the days of built up grime from his hair and skin. It was a good twenty minutes before he felt any semblance of cleanliness again.
Shutting the shower off, he threw open the curtain and grabbed hold of the towel hanging from the hook on the tiled end of the dividing wall separating his shower from the next. Wrapping the thick dark blue towel around his waist, Dean dropped down to sit on the end of the nearest bench. He had to check; had to see. He couldn't face his brother and Cas while his mind was buzzing through a maelstrom of disbelief, thinking it could all have been a wishful dream. That would bring on his brother's dejected face – the one that came with tears – and Cas' blue eyes full of pity. Right now, Dean just didn't have the strength to be dealing with either, especially the former; Sammy's earlier sobs had almost gutted him.
So while Dean fixed his eyes on a dark stain on the cream shower curtain before him, he reached over with his left hand and found that spot on his inner right arm with shaking fingers. A gush of air released from him the moment those fingers came in contact with smooth skin rather than the ridged lines he'd come to expect from the Mark. Drawing in a deep lungful of air, he finally lowered his eyes to the area as he slowly breathed out.
It hadn't all been a dream.
This was real. The Mark was really gone.
It was a little odd not to see the reddened brand glaring up at him after all this time. Or to feel that darkness pushing at him to murder; to satiate the Mark's voracity with blood. He felt free; that murky thunder cloud no longer holding his heart and soul in its vice grip. But he didn't feel lightened in all entirety. He didn't believe he ever would. His soul may not be bound any longer, but it would always hold that small residue of the Mark because of what he had done whilst it had been on his arm.
From the minute Sam had found the spell, the kid had continued to grasp onto the belief that it was the answer; that it would work. Dean hadn't had that belief in the slightest way – in his brother or the spell - and in the past few weeks it had taken all the control he could muster just to fight the increasingly growing influence of the Mark enough to flee the bunker before he got his hands around his baby brother's throat and… he swallowed against the rising bile, determined to keep himself from throwing up.
It had only fuelled his rage when Sam started cowering behind Cas like a terrified puppy. Except that was what his Mark-coated eyes had seen. Now he could rationalise it without any influence and he understood Cas had deliberately stepped in front of Sam every time, willing to protect the kid and stop Dean from making the fatal mistake that would ruin him. And he could also see the fierce hold Sam had had on Cas' trench coat was not a cowering move, but actually Dean's little brother trying to shove Cas out of the way (and failing, because Cas is pretty unmovable when he wants to be). Both hunter and angel realising Dean would've been more than willing to go through Cas to get to his little brother, and both trying to protect the other.
Dean stood, turned and bolted for the closest toilet cubicle, yanking open the door and leaning over just in time. His empty stomach vomited nothing but water and bile, his abdomen cramping against the force of his retching. Eyes watering, Dean slumped down to the floor a minute later, his back hitting a wall of the small cubicle, just giving himself a moment to breath. When he felt under control, Dean swiped the back of his wrist over his mouth and pushed up from the floor, adjusting the towel around his waist to keep it in place as he flushed the toilet. Stepping out of the cubicle he moved over to the sinks to rinse his mouth and rewash his face. It was time to get dressed in his usual gear so that he could once again feel like himself and be ready to face the world – or at least his brother and Cas.
And as he reached for the hand-towel to dry off his face his fingers brushed the bare skin of his inner right arm and a smile creased his lips in remembrance of awakening some time earlier to his baby brother doing the exact same thing; a silent promise of forgiveness from the one person Dean couldn't handle holding all he had done whilst under the Mark's influence against him.
#SPN#
Realising he was starving but not really in the mood to cook or prepare anything, Dean grabbed a coffee from the kitchen on his way to the library, along with a share-size bag of BBQ potato chips that he was mostly already done with by the time he reached his destination. He found both his brother and Cas seated on opposite sides of the middle table.
Glancing up at the clock fixed on the far wall, he was surprised as he took in the little square holding the date. Seven days had passed since that dumbass ghost had thrown him to his death. He frowned. He was pretty sure he had only woken as a demon for the second time yesterday or maybe the day before; he wasn't entirely one hundred percent on the timeframe. But either he hadn't gone black-eyed straight away or Cas had done something to keep him under. Another question to add to his list. However, his most imminent question as to whether Sam had managed to put the ghost down without injury dissolved from his mind the minute he spotted his little brother with his nose buried in another thick book.
Really, kid? C'mon! Fresh air, Sammy! Say it with me. Fresh. Air. Or even some mindless drivel on the TV would be better than a book. Or pool. Pool at the bar. Where there's beer. Alcohol. And sex. Sex with Cas. No! Uh-uh, no. Brain shut the fuck up. Not Sammy with … urgh, bad, bad, bad mental pictures, Dean! Gross! … Dean shot a look at Cas, noticing the angels lips were curled up fractionally in amusement at Dean's inner dialogue. Get out of my head, you fucking pervert, Dean mentally shot back, hoping he heard it and grinned when Cas' face disappeared behind the magazine in his hands, though it didn't hide Cas' soft snort. You're a bad influence on that angel, Dean Winchester, Dean thought with a smirk, before turning his concentration back on Sam.
"Sammy," Dean grumbled, announcing his presence to his brother.
"Dean!" Sam's head shot up, dimpled smile brightening his face upon seeing Dean. "How're you feeling?"
"I feel fine. Do you feel okay?" The middle of Sam's forehead creased into tight lines of confusion. The kid's hand raised to hover over the area of his head his most recent wound was situated and a fresh wave of guilt passed through Dean for forgetting about it. Again. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.
Sam smiled, obviously reading Dean's expression. "It's fine, Dean, it's only a small cut. And I only remembered because my shampoo got into it." The kid grimaced lightly. "So if you weren't referring to my head, what are you talking about?" Dean gestured at the book with a waggle of his fingers and Sam's face immediately enlightened into sheepish understanding. Sam shrugged lightly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, unconsciously mirroring Dean's action from only seconds before. "I just thought …"
"Uh-uh. No. No thinking. We are done with research for now, kid, and we're definitely not finding a hunt for a good week or two. Give me the book," Dean snapped his fingers in demand for the thick book only to find it smacking him in the chest a second later. No one noticed the moment the book landed on the floor with a loud thud due to the fact Dean had frozen; Sam was staring at Dean wide-eyed; and Cas had lowered his magazine and now sat with a raised eyebrow. "Did you just throw a book at me, Sam?" the accusation came out of Dean's mouth as a way to hide the uneasiness sweeping over him, because he already knew the answer. He had felt the tiny, familiar surge of power pulse through him as he snapped his fingers.
Sam shook his head, hair swaying and eyes still wide as he rose to his feet. "Cas… are you sure …?"
"Yes. Dean is no longer a demon." Cas' gaze hadn't moved from Dean as he spoke, though neither had Sammy's. Cas' head tilted to the side in that annoyingly endearing way and if anyone heard Dean thinking that – including a certain angel - he'd shoot them. "But I think something was… left behind."
"Ya think?" Dean retorted sarcastically.
"It isn't just you, Dean," Cas replied softly, earning both Dean and Sam's attention. "I believe there has been a drastic side effect from our casting of the spell. The spell worked accurately in turning you from demon back to human, Dean. But what I sensed in you yesterday, I now understand to be the demonic powers you held, and which are now housed within your human body and apparently accessible to your person."
Dean blinked, taking a moment to try and sort through that jumble of words to figure out exactly what Cas had just said.
"Right. Okay," Sam said faintly as he leant partially against the table, easily nodding his understanding of Cas' words. "I think I get what you're saying. But… you said it wasn't only Dean."
"No," Cas shook his head. "It would seem I've also been affected. I believe it was having been present in the room at the time of the casting, because I am now once again human …"
"What?!" Sam and Dean chorused incredulously.
"… Though I have retained at least some of the powers I held from my grace," Cas finished as if the brothers hadn't interrupted. "It's why I felt so strange after awakening from the spell."
"And why you fell asleep with us too," Sam realised.
"And why Sam was awake before you last night," Dean stated, now able to tick that question off his list. "Becoming human again, I'm guessing your energy took a huge hit. Shutting you down until you were ready to function again."
Cas nodded in agreement with both observations.
"But are you absolutely sure, Cas?" Sam queried. "Maybe it's just thrown you off whack or …" Sam shrugged in that way he did when he was unsure what to say next.
"Angel's do not sleep. They do not have a need to dispose of bodily waste. And they cannot enjoy the tastes and aromas of food because it all tastes and smells like molecules," Cas stated plainly. "I, however, can now enjoy the delicious invention of PB&J."
"Oh," Sam nodded, remembering clearly the last time Cas had tried a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and was unable to eat it. "Huh. Guess you are human again."
Dean stared at them both wondering if they'd lost their sanity during his recent bought with death and demonic takeover. What the hell did PB&J have to do with Cas being human? Shaking his head he decided to ignore it. "Right." He ran a hand through his hair as he started pacing back and forth. "Sam, you didn't happen to change the spell in anyway, right? Maybe tweak it a little for maximum results?" He probed, careful to keep his tone from sounding accusatory, because he knew how desperate Sam had been. And desperation led to rash actions. Dean knew that all too well.
"What? No, Dean," Sam responded with an air of indignation as he crossed his arms over his chest. Dean narrowed his eyes. "I didn't! Cas was watching me the whole time, Dean. He barely blinked. Don't you think he would've noticed if I added a little extra of any of the spell's ingredients or tweaked the incantation?"
Dean turned to Cas for confirmation, even though he knew his brother was telling the truth. Cas nodded in the affirmative. "I can assure you Sam did only as the spell instructed, Dean."
Dean turned back to Sam, wanting a hunch confirmed. Sammy's words had been spoken a fraction too quickly, and to the untrained ear it wouldn't mean jack, but to the big brother who had spent a lifetime watching over this kid - yeah, Sammy was hiding something. And Dean had a good suspicion as to what. "But you thought about it though, didn't you?"
Sam swallowed, gaze drifting from Dean to Cas and back. "So what if I did?" he finally admitted quietly. "Can you blame me for it, Dean? Can you honestly tell me you wouldn't have thought of doing the exact same thing if the situation was reversed?" Sam raised a knowing eyebrow at Dean. "If you thought adding a little extra would give the spell a greater chance of succeeding?"
Dean wasn't stupid enough to verbally respond to that. Nor did he need to. All of them knew Sam was right. Dean would have thought about it – and maybe not held the same restraint Sam had shown. Although he had a feeling part of Sammy's restraint had been the angel watching closely over his shoulder.
"Dean, any deviation to the spell not only could've risked your life as the spell's focus," Cas started, "but risked the castor's as well." Meaning Sammy's life; his brother had been the only one capable of performing the spell. And the castor had to perform every aspect from collecting and mixing ingredients to the final ritual. If Sam wasn't standing in front of Dean right now with only a small cut to the head, Dean would be beyond pissed. "Or…" Cas continued, "… it could easily have annihilated the entire bunker and everyone in it, whether cast correctly or not." Dean and Sam both raised incredulous eyebrows.
"You couldn't have told me that a little sooner?" Sam accused.
Cas rolled his eyes and released a put-upon sigh. "Informing you wouldn't have changed your decision, Sam. Nor the outcome. I am telling you now simply because I felt it necessary to point out an accurate fact whilst we we're being truthful with one another."
There was a beat of silence. Then ...
"Thanks, Cas," Dean and Sam chorused with a large amount of sarcasm, glancing at each other briefly.
Dean sighed. Why did they always manage to land themselves in one fucked up situation after another. "So let's get this straight, okay? We're saying I'm human again, but I still have demonic powers?" Cas and Sam nodded. "And Cas is now human again too and still has his grace powers."
"Yes, that is what I just explained."
"Well isn't that just fucking …" Dean came to an abrupt stop, the implications whirling through his mind freezing his insides. The spell had affected Cas, what if it had also done something to … "Sammy."
Sam startled as Dean rushed forward and grabbed his upper arms. "Wha…? Oww, Dean, not so damn tight!" Sam squirmed against his hold.
Dean quickly yanked his hands away as if he'd been burned, staring down at them as if they didn't belong to him. "Oh god." He raised his eyes to Sam who was rubbing at his arms. Guilt rushed through him. "Sammy, I didn't …"
Sam nodded. "I know, Dean. It's the strength. I imagine Cas retained his as well." Cas nodded as if he had already tested that theory out whilst Dean was sleeping and Sam had his nose buried in a book. And knowing Cas that's exactly what he'd done. "Why'd you grab me?" Sam questioned.
"Do you feel any different, Sam? Did that spell do anything to you?" Dean grilled gruffly, worry filling his tone.
Sam frowned in thought for a moment. "I don't think so," he said slowly looking between Dean and Cas and back. He shrugged lightly, "I feel lighter, I guess, but I don't see how that could've been the spell. It's just the worry and everything about the Mark having been lifted."
Dean nodded slowly. That made sense.
Cas, however, wasn't satisfied. "Lighter how, Sam?" he pushed. Dean frowned, clearly hearing the masked concern underlying Cas' forceful tone.
"I don't know. It's hard to explain, but… it's like…" Sam's eyes slowly widened further, "I feel pure, like-like-like I don't have so much heaviness on me anymore."
"As if you have been purified of the taint to your blood?" Cas trod carefully, knowing how Dean could take that as a slight toward Sam.
Dean raised an eyebrow. Could it be possible? Could the spell have purified Sam of something the demon trials had started, but hadn't finished because Dean had interrupted and stopped Sam from killing himself on the third trial? Could his little brother's blood be fully free of demon blood?
"Could it be possible?" Sam asked Cas, unintentionally voicing Dean's thoughts. "If the spell could turn an angel and a demon human, could it have purified my blood? My soul?" the kid questioned, tears building in his eyes.
"Oh, Sam," Cas shook his head sadly, "your soul was never something that needed purifying. Your soul is one of the brightest I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, if not the brightest."
Sam frowned. "I don't understand," he said looking from Dean to Cas, "how could it be? What with the demon blood, and everything I did back then. The Cage."
"The Cage damaged your very essence, Sam," Cas supplied, "but it never truly damaged your soul. Only the purest of soul's could have withstood the things you were put through in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael and come away as moderately whole as yours did. I know and have felt the torture you were subjected to; you shouldn't have been able to function even with Death's wall in place. But you did. And you continued to do so after what I did to you," Cas told him softly, apologetically, "at least until your body could no longer take that severe a pressure placed upon it. Your soul is strong, Sam. Young, but strong."
Dean shot a sharp warning look at Cas. He hoped Sam didn't pick up on the latter part of the former angel's words. Now wasn't the time for that piece of information to be revealed to the kid. But Sam was too busy shaking his head in denial to have noticed. Sighing, Dean walked over to Sam. He grabbed the kids chin and forced Sam to look at him. Disbelieving hazel eyes met his own. He was more than happy to draw the topic away from the breaking of that wall, but first he had a no chic-flick rule to break so he could say what was needed to one doubting little brother.
"Cas is right," Dean started strongly, "I've seen your soul, Sammy. Both as a demon and when Death shoved it back inside you. Your soul, aura, whatever you want to call it, it's pretty awesome, kid." Dean used his thumb to brush a stray tear away from his brother's cheek. "Stop doubting yourself, Sammy, and you're ginormous pure soul," Dean added a little eye roll for affect, and smiled a half-smile when his baby brother let out a soft laugh. "Because if you don't… well then I'll have to kick your ass."
Sam offered a small smile, cheeks tinged a light pink with embarrassment at hearing what Cas and Dean had had to say. He cleared his throat. "What do we do now?"
"We start by figuring out if this is reversible," Dean stated, hurriedly adding, "On Cas' end," upon receiving a glare from little brother, and the expectant raised eyebrow from the ex-angel. "Not me. We do need to find out about the powers, but if ditching 'em means reversing the Mark's removal… then we leave things well enough alone." As long as they don't start turning me back into a demon, he added silently. "For now we concentrate on reversing what it's done to Cas."
"And what if I'd rather it wasn't reversed, Dean?" Cas asked calmly, softly, surprising both brothers.
"Seriously? You want to stay human?" Dean said disbelievingly.
Cas shrugged. "I still retain my powers. I would still be useful in hunting if you were to allow me to join you." He shrugged again. "And as exhausting as my body's need to urinate every few hours is, it is an acceptable part of being human that I can accommodate.
"Yeah, you don't really get a choice in accommodating that now, Cas," Sam said, amused.
"Cas, are you sure?" Dean questioned, wanting to know honestly if this was what Cas really wanted. "We can research …"
"I am tired, Dean," Cas cut in softly, wearily, as he turned to look fully into Dean's eyes. "Tired of having to fight my instincts towards helping Heaven, and being with the two of you. You and Sam are my family, more so than my brothers and sisters have ever been to me. Heaven is under control and in good hands with Hannah. I wish to remain as I am now."
Dean could read the sincerity in Cas' eyes as clear as day. This was what Cas wanted and some part of Dean's heart brightened. He ignored it. "Well okay then." Grabbing up his coffee, he took a sip, grimacing as the cold liquid passed his lips. Setting the mug back down on the table, he placed a hand on the book he'd earlier zapped away from Sam and pushed it back towards his brother. He had no idea if it was the right book Sam would need to research the spell's effects further but the kid would get the hint. Glancing up at the clock before he looked back to Sam, he said, "I'm giving you two hours, Sammy, then you're going back to bed to get a good night's sleep."
"Dean …" Sam started to protest but Dean cut him off. "No, Sam. We've got time to deal with this without you trying to collapse in exhaustion again." Dean stared at the kid pointedly.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest with a loud huff. "Fine. I'll research for two hours but I'm not going to bed at eight o'clock in the frigging evening, Dean. I'm not twelve anymore," Sam shifted his gaze away from Dean as he said the latter portion. Dean's lips twitched; Sammy had been put to bed at eight in the evening a lot longer than the age of twelve. More often than not, Sam had crashed easily as a kid and teen, and it had been the simplest option for Dean when he had to head out to town dives to hustle some cash.
"Half seven it is then," Dean assigned. Grabbing up his coffee mug and ignoring Sam's spluttered squawk of "Dean!" Dean turned to Cas. "We should find someplace I can safely test out these powers. See exactly what I've retained, and now that I'm human again if they have any adverse effects on me after being used."
Cas nodded as he rose to his feet. "It would be wise to do as I did and use the shooting range as it's reinforced."
"That's what we'll do then," Dean responded, moving towards the main library archway leading into the crow's nest, Cas joining him.
"Hey, Dean!" Sam called after them, "you were joking, right? Right?! Dean?!"
Dean waved over his shoulder without turning around and smiled, hearing his little brother continue to call out his complaints as Dean and Cas passed into the hall that would take them down to the shooting range.
"You really should tell him you're just teasing, Dean," Cas admonished lightly.
"Where's the fun in that, Cas?" Dean smirked. "Besides, who says I'm just teasing? Not sure if you've noticed but those purple bruises under Sam's eyes mean that he needs a hell of a lot more sleep than he's managed to get so far. And he's going to get it. Plus, if he's in bed and asleep …" Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the former angel, "Or we don't have to wait," he smirked, tongue darting out to brush over his upper lip. "We have an empty shooting range all to ourselves …" Dean trailed off with a laugh as he was shoved through the door hiding the staircase down to the shooting range. His back hit the banister, Cas' breath blowing against his face, the other man's pupils blown with desire.
Yep, Dean thought as he crushed his lips to Cas', definitely a bad influence, Dean Winchester.
#SPN#
It had been just over an hour since Dean and Cas had left Sam to his own devices in the library, and he was currently glaring down at the research material sitting innocently before him and almost taunting him with the futility of nothingness it offered. The same nothingness the rest of the stupid books in the library offered. And he should know; he'd been through this entire library at least three times over in the past year. With a groan of frustration he slammed the thick book shut as if it had personally offended him.
Which it had. Did he mention it was useless?
Raising his hand to his face, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache coming on. What had he done wrong? He'd meticulously researched every aspect of the spell; checking and rechecking of the ingredients, from smallest grain to largest quantity; to making sure his enunciation of the Latin incantation was accurate and walking through the actual performance of the ritual beforehand. He had made sure everything was perfect before even thinking of performing the spell on Dean. It was why it had taken seven days; why Cas had been forced to use his mojo to keep Dean from waking for the same stretch of time.
Sam had been pushing for Dean to accept the spells credibility for months and yet when it came time for Sam to actually bring the spell into play he had procrastinated. The fear of messing up had overruled his confidence in himself to do what was necessary to save his brother. Only with Cas stepping up and calming him down did confidence once again swell through him to override everything else.
Except for his heart. He had had to temporarily place a steel cage around his heart to prevent him from stumbling through the incantation or stopping it entirely at the barbs the demon was throwing around, and then against the screams emitting from his brother. Because demon or not, that had been Dean's voice producing such a horrific sound that Sam had never before heard coming from his strong-willed big brother – not even when Hellhounds were tearing him apart - and never, ever, did he want to hear it again.
Sam shuddered, blinking back the growing moisture from his eyes at the memory. Never again, he promised silently, I can't go through that again.
Sighing softly, he ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated motion. Aside from the fact he and Cas had been rendered unconscious alongside Dean, yesterday Sam would have said they'd managed to pull the spell off without a hitch. It had done exactly what it was meant to do; return Dean's humanity and remove the Mark of Cain.
Today – the spell had potentially eradicated every trace of demon blood from Sam's veins; turned an angel into a human with angelic powers; and left demonic powers inside Sam's now human brother.
What the hell had gone wrong?
#SPN#
As promised, two hours after entering the shooting range, a fully-clothed Dean left with a pleasant grin on his lips. He was leaving Cas to continue to figure out his own powers whilst Dean made his way towards the library, fully prepared to ensure Sam got to bed. And if necessary he'd throw his little brother over his shoulder and carry Sam, kicking and screaming, all the way to his room. And he could now do that without breaking a sweat thanks to his new (though demonic) strength. Crossing the floor of the crow's nest, Dean paused on the first step leading up into the library and silently observed his brother.
Sam had moved from his usual spot of occupying one of the wooden chairs at the middle table. Instead, he was seated in one of the two tall-backed leather armchairs situated at the furthest end near the opening through to the telescope. Sam's legs were drawn up, sock-clad feet resting on the seat-cushion with his toes hanging over the edge. His upper-body was hunched over, the right side of his head resting atop one knee and faced toward Dean. The kid's eyes were closed. The pinched expression making it clear he wasn't sleeping but fighting what was no doubt a pretty nasty headache. And he was suckling on the thumb lodged between his lips for the second time in the past twenty-four hours.
Wondering how many germs the kid had stuck in his mouth, Dean quietly stepped back down onto the crow's nest floor. Turning around, the thought of how much more sanitary a sterilized pacifier would be momentarily brought him to a halt, before he shook it away with a snort and continued on. Sammy hadn't had a pacifier in years. He could just imagine the horrified expression he'd get if Sam ever found out that the thought had even crossed Dean's mind. Reaching the kitchen, he rummaged through the cupboards for the jar of PB&J he knew was around somewhere and growled in frustration when he couldn't find it. He even opened the stupid drawers where they didn't even store fucking jars.
So where the hell is it?
Rolling his eyes a second later when he spotted the half-full jar sitting on the island, along with a sealed loaf of pre-cut bread, he grabbed a clean knife and plate and got to work making the only thing Sam was able to stomach when suffering this bad a headache. Setting the sandwich on the awaiting plate a minute later, he used the knife to cut off the crusts and then sliced the sandwich. Grabbing a large glass he filled it with mango juice and set it by the plate on the island, leaving both there whilst he ran down the hall to their med kit stored in the bathroom. Finding the bottle of painkillers, he flipped the cap open and tipped it up, one pill tumbling out onto his hand. Blinking, he stared into the bottle and saw only empty space. He could have sworn he refilled it only a couple weeks back and he knew he hadn't taken any. Which meant Sam had. Dean was gonna kick that kid's ass the minute he looked capable of taking an ass kicking again. The bottle had held a hundred fucking tablets!
They weren't the really strong ones that would knock Sam on his ass for a good nine to twelve hours – they weren't stocked on those which reminded Dean it needed doing - but these ones were strong enough, and filled with caffeine. It explained how Sam had managed to keep going all this time, and Dean needed to know just how long that had been.
Oh yeah, he and little brother definitely needed to have a serious talk about this.
Sighing, Dean tipped the pill back into the bottle and snapped the cap back on. The last thing Sam needed right now was more caffeine. Returning the bottle back to the kit, he rummaged around for some other form of painkiller. Sometimes they just couldn't be picky, and anything that stated 'painkiller' ended up in the kit. Like the bottle of children's liquid Tylenol he found buried at the bottom. Grabbing it up, he turned it around to check it was still in-date. Seeing it was – just about – Dean headed out of the bathroom; he'd return later to put the kit away.
Re-entering the kitchen, Dean found a teaspoon that would have to do for the medicine – they didn't exactly store proper measuring cups or spoons. Picking up the plate and glass, he figured they should probably invest in at least one some time soon. Sam wasn't going to be having any painkillers stronger than what Dean held in his hand for a good while to come and nothing more than the required dosage. Kid had forgone the privilege of adult painkillers the second he'd started chugging them back like they were candy.
Reaching the library from the crow's nest, Dean set the plate, glass, spoon and bottle of painkiller on the table closest to Sam before crossing to switch off the majority of the lights, save for one wall light behind Sam. Grabbing the Tylenol and spoon, he moved over to Sam and squatted down in front of the chair in a position Sam could still see him without having to move too much just yet.
Reaching out, he patted the side of his little brother's lower left leg to gain his attention and spoke quietly. "Lights are off, Sammy, bar the one behind you." Sam slowly opened his eyes at the sound of Dean's voice, squinting against the obvious pain. His eyes met Dean's. "Sit up as much as you can for me, kiddo. I've got some painkiller here. Then you need to eat something."
Sam groaned lightly behind his thumb as he raised his head, shifting his right arm up to rest the elbow against his knee so he could use his hand to prop up his head enough to take the medicine.
Dean smiled a half-smile as he pressed down on the bottle cap and twisted it off. "You're gonna have to take the thumb out your mouth, Sammy."
Sam blinked at him before slowly sliding the thumb out, light pink spots appearing across his cheeks. "Sorry," he whispered, wiping the wet thumb against his jeans. Dean gave the kid's leg a gentle squeeze; he didn't need to be embarrassed. Dean had seen the kid sucking his thumb or a pacifier more times than he could count. Sam spied the bottle of Tylenol. "That's kids' stuff," he grumbled out in a murmur.
"Yep, and it's all you're getting," Dean responded plainly without explaining himself. He poured the purple liquid onto the spoon, being careful not to let it overflow. He wanted it in the kid's mouth not down his shirt. Reaching forward he held the spoon to Sam's lips and Sam willingly opened his mouth to accept it, swallowing the grape-flavoured liquid down. Dean repeated the process once more.
With that done, Dean stood straight again whilst Sam sat up a little more, resting his head against the side of the chair. He accepted the plate Dean held out to him, looking down at his PB&J sandwich and quirking a smile.
"No crusts," Sam observed, "thanks, Dean. But you realise you've cut this into quarters, right?" he remarked softly, picking up one of the small quarters and nibbling on one end.
Dean didn't actually; he'd just sliced and run. Setting the chair in his hand back down on the floor so it was closer to Sam, Dean glanced at the plate; three square crust-less quarters lay on the plate. "Huh." He shrugged as he sat down. "It's just the way you like it then, with no crusts and itty-bitty pieces," he deflected with a smirk.
"Maybe when I was twelve," Sam chuckled softly, putting the rest of the first quarter in his mouth.
Dean snorted, "Try fourteen."
Sam shot him a soft glare. "I'd roll my eyes at you're idiocy, Dean, but it'd hurt." Dean chuckled, both of them knowing the age Dean had stated to be truth. "Is that juice for me?" Sam pointed to the glass in Dean's hand, one cheek poking out where the kid was storing the sandwich. Dean handed over the glass, only now realizing he'd at some point stuck a straw in it. Sam didn't seem to care though, simply attached his lips to the straw and greedily sucked up some juice.
Dean shook his head. "When'd you last drink something?"
Sam shrugged lightly, pulling enough away from the straw to say, "I guess I had some water a few hours ago when I woke up," before he went back to drinking.
Dean frowned unhappily, displeased at hearing that piece of information. The kid was clearly unaware of have much time had actually passed since then and Dean was thankful Cas had informed him just what time Sam had finally awoken from the effects of the spell. "Sam, that was over ten hours ago," he scolded.
"Oh." Sam blinked. "Must be why I'm so thirsty."
If that had come out of Sam's mouth in any other variation than a straightforward observation Dean would've been pissed. As it was, Sam was just too mixed up from months of built up exhaustion for a scolding to be truly effective right now. Dean shifted forward in his seat, dropping his right leg down so he could dig out his phone from his jeans front pocket and brought up the lock screen to see the time; 8:37 PM.
"Finish up, Sam," Dean pointed to the last square of sandwich as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Then its bedtime."
This time Sam nodded without putting up a fuss about the early hour and stuck the last square of sandwich in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Dean took the plate held out to him whilst Sam finished up his juice. "The medicines starting to kick in," Sam told him, holding out his now empty glass. Dean took that too, standing to set them back on the table with the bottle and spoon.
He wasn't surprised the Tylenol was actually working so quickly; anything would probably work that was outside of the kid's recent painkiller intake. The effectiveness of those pills would have long since worn off as a painkiller, instead they would have become a strong caffeine hit. "That's good." Dean held out a hand to his brother. Sam grasped it as he dropped his feet to the floor, and Dean hauled him up to standing. "Go on, get to bed." Sam nodded, starting to move off. "And, Sam …" Sam turned to look at Dean sideways, "… when you wake up we're gonna have a little discussion about the painkiller consumption you've had going on these past few weeks, or months."
He watched his brother gulp; watched as the kid's eyes widened with the realisation that his big brother knew about his little secret and that it was the reason he'd been given children's Tylenol instead of the one pill left in the pot. Obviously the boy had hoped this would've remained a secret for good. And admittedly, Dean hadn't been paying attention. His most recent stocking of the painkillers a few weeks back was the first time in ages that he had done so; Sam had always been more than happy to perform that task for the past – Dean tried to think just how long it had actually been, and came to realise it had been at least six months.
"M'sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled.
"I'm not angry, bud." And he wasn't. He was definitely disappointed Sam had resorted to drugs, but he really had no place being angry with the kid, not when he had similar vices of his own. "But we are gonna talk. Tomorrow.
Sam nodded and moved to turn away again, before stopping and apprehensively inquiring, "Will this talk involve something other than talking, Dean?
"If you mean am I gonna spank you… that'll depend on the truth you have to tell me, won't it?" Dean responded, staring calmly at his baby brother. Sam nodded jerkily. "Go on. Brush your teeth. And don't forget to wash your face cos you've got jelly round your mouth, baby brother," Dean offered a grin as he said it, hoping to calm Sam's worry about what might occur the next morning
"Dean," Sam whined embarrassedly at the teasing, swiping his tongue over his lips before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth
Dean chuckled. "Well now you just wiped it all over your hands."
Sam shot him a sulky glare before heading off in the direction of his bedroom. Dean smiled as he grabbed up the glass, plate, spoon and Tylenol from the table and headed in the opposite direction towards the kitchen. Cas, where you at? He called with his mind, utilising that convenient power. Strangely he'd only ever been able to connect with Cas; though perhaps it had something to do with Cas having powers as well, where Sammy didn't.
I am currently sitting on the roof of the power plant, Dean, Cas responded.
Dean snorted as he set the dirty dishes in the sink and started the water running. Why the hell was he on the roof? Sammy had eventually figured out that the power plant sitting over them made the bunker fully self-sufficient; feeding them their power and water, the latter of which was filtered from the river sitting nearby and some machine up in the plant cleans it of impurities before reaching the bunker, and vice versa, before its filtered back cleanly into the river. It wasn't surprising that it took the original Men of Letters three years to build the place, but it was fucking brilliant. He and Sam had explored the place once, his geeky little brother bouncing excitedly at his side as he took in all the self-sufficient machines (they were pretty sure those things had 'never break down' spells or some shit cast on them). Dean had been more concerned by the holes he'd seen in the roof. It made him laugh to think that the Men of Letters had taken such meticulous planning with everything and forgotten to ensure the roof wouldn't cave in after sixty years. Then again he doubted they ever figured the bunker would stand abandoned for fifty-five years either.
Do you require me?
Nah, you're good. Dean replied. Just be careful up there, Cas. I don't know how stable that roof is, there's holes all over it.
It's more than sturdy now, Dean. Cas fixed it? I found it quite easily fixable actually. Of course he did, Dean shook his head with a snort. Does Sam require healing?
Now that he knew it was safe and Cas wouldn't be blowing his baby brother's head off Dean contemplated the idea. It was a specific power of Cas' Dean had wanted tested when they were down in the shooting range; it was after all one of the most valuable Cas had. So Dean had taken his knife and sliced open different areas of his body; and despite Cas' anxiety, the former angel had been able to fully heal each of Dean's self-inflicted wounds without any difficulty, or blowing away any of Dean's greatly loved body parts (though it probably would have been a better idea to have tested that power out after he'd put his clothes back on). He'd then turned the knife around on Cas, who'd only looked at him in confusion, before stating he wasn't going to stab Dean. Dean had laughed, and told Cas to cut himself; they needed to know if Cas could still heal his own body. Thankfully, Cas had then understood, made a cut on his own arm and promptly healed himself.
So Cas could definitely help Sam right now, but Dean didn't want it being a go to for every little twinge they had just because Cas was now with them permanently. Dean suspected their pain receptors would start screwing with them and they all definitely needed those actively working and functioning normally.
We'll wait for about three hours, he responded to Cas as he shut off the water filling the sink. Sam will sleep pretty easily until the medicine I gave him starts wearing off, but it'll help him get a proper night's sleep if he's not waking up in pain. Dean could feel Cas' agreement through the open connection. Plus it'd be a good idea in case this headache's somehow connected to his head wound, even if it was superficial and Sammy's says its fine.
Very well. Will you join me?
Dean smiled as he stored away the jar of PB&J back in its cupboard and stashed the bread away in the breadbox within their old fashioned icebox pantry/refrigerator. One thing he'd yet to update. Let me finish up here, then I'll be there. You want a beer? Again, Dean felt Cas' appreciation of the idea whilst he swiped a damp cloth over the island, cleaning away the mess.
"Dean."
Dean stopped wiping down the island top and raised his eyes to Sam stood on the lower step of the archway and now in the usual sweatpants and t-shirt he wore to bed. His face was clean of red grape jelly as were his hands, one of which was twisting the hem of his t-shirt in familiar movements and which Dean knew to be a clear indication that something was playing on Sam's mind. And he didn't think it was due to the thought of a possible impending punishment.
"Sam, everything okay?" Sam shifted where he stood, fingers curling and uncurling against his t-shirt. Dean dropped the cloth on the island top and moved around so his butt rested back against the side of the island, leaving enough space between them so Sam didn't feel crowded. "Sammy, spit it out, bud," he requested patiently. "What's wrong?"
"Um …" finally the kid started to talk. "Human bodies can't withstand the powers of a demon or an angel inside them without the actual demonic or angelic body," Sam pointed out worriedly, his words fired rapidly as he voiced his fear. "The bodies will burn out."
"That's not happening to me and Cas, Sammy."
"You don't know that, Dean!" Sam burst out angrily, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. "We could've just saved you only to lose you anyway to the side effects of that goddamn spell. That can't happen, Dean! I can't… I just… I can't …" The kid shook his head desperately, eyes filling with moisture.
Dean crossed the distance separating them, roughly pulling his little brother into his arms. Winding one arm around Sam's back and resting the other at the base of the kid's neck, he held on tight; Sam's own arms curling around his back, fingers gripping tightly to Dean's shirt. Dean didn't offer any more platitudes because he honestly didn't know if his body could sustain demon powers without a demonic hold inside of him. Nor if Cas could sustain his grace. But they'd weather this storm as they always did.
If the storm let them.