Author's Notes: Sorry for the wait guys! I started a new job and haven't had as much time. Also I've never had stitches before so sorry if anything seems off there. Another than that, enjoy.
Sam had no recollection of how he actually made it all the way to the Impala, but he knew he'd never felt happier to see that black car than he did at that very moment. It seemed Raven had dragged him to the back acreage of the same house he'd been investigating, the shed wasn't visible from the road but Sam knew it couldn't be that far away. The town was small, and seemed to just melt into the forest around it once you got past the backyards of the houses.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam leaned heavily against the car as he shoved his bloody hand gingerly into his back pocket, overwhelmed with joy to find the keys still there. His hand shook, almost making him drop the keys, as he tried to unlock the passenger door. He hoped if he drank some more demon blood he would have the strength and vigor to stitch the gashes on his arms. If he lost much more blood no amount of demon juice would make a difference.
He bit his lip, grunting in frustration as the keys scrapped uselessly against the metal. Dean would be so pissed if he knew Sam was scratching his precious car.
A small, sad smile tugged at his lips at the thought of his brother, even as his body slumped, heavy against the cool, smooth surface of the Impala, forcing Sam to grab the door handle to keep from falling. He hissed in pain as the movement aggravated his injuries, making them burn like hot embers were pressuring against his skin.
For the first time in his life he thanked Lucifer for all the inexplicable torture the archangel and put him through, for surely if he hadn't grown so accustomed to such intense pain he would have fainted by now.
My life is so messed up. Sam closed his eyes, forehead resting against the top of the car, as he focused entirely on the feel of the keys in his blood slick hand. And finally he felt the hard metal give wait as the key slipped into the hole with a soft click.
Barely managing to step aside so the door could open, Sam collapsed on the smooth leather seat, letting his head sag against the top of the back rest. The sense of familiarity at sitting in his usual spot eased his trouble minded slightly. He could almost close his eyes and pretend the last year had never happened.
Okay, maybe closing his eyes wouldn't be a good idea right now…
Keeping his arms applying pressure to each other the best he could, Sam reached down and grabbed the cooler at his feet. Blood dripped freely from both arms and splatters on the black leather beneath him. Wincing, he clumsily dug out a plastic bottle; the contents appeared black in the dim light of the street lamp.
None of the lust seized him this time, a sense of disgust filled him even as the blood slipped down his throat, some missing its mark and splashing down his neck and shirt.
I don't want this. He thought, angry tears wetting the rims of his eyes. I just want things to be the way they used to be… Sam's gaze turned to the empty seat next to him, a sad expression on his face. He just wanted Dean back. I just want my brother! Is that too much to ask?
He allowed the empty bottle slip from his fingers when a sudden warm feeling swept over him. It could be likened to the warm glow ones experiences at the first swig of whiskey. Except the glow spread out from his stomach, reaching his whole body in mere seconds. The sharp, painful pounding in his head and chest lessened to a dull ache, his vision cleared, and the desperate, panting of his breath calmed. The numbness in his limbs dissipated, making him gasp at the increase in discomfort that followed.
This can only mean… Sam shuddered as the realization hit him. Somehow his body was using the demon blood he'd drank to replace his own, literally turning him into more of a monster with every drop he ingested. His earlier resolution to call Dean crumbled as he wrapped his head around this new development. How had he not noticed this before? He supposed it didn't really matter, but in the back of his mind Sam couldn't help but think he should have known.
Pushing aside his guilty conscious, Sam walked around to the Impala's trunk, only having to lean lightly against the car's side to steady his body, and retrieved the first aid kit. He quickly returned to the front seat, steeling himself for what needed to be done.
Stitching himself always proved unpleasant during the best of times, but doing it at night, in the car, with only a street lamp for light was going to be nearly impossible.
Sam removed the rubbing alcohol, needles and thread from the canvas bag and set them on the dashboard. The alcohol wasn't the best option for cleaning out deep wounds but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to try and avoid infection.
Removing the cap Sam dumped the liquid over his left arm, hissing through gritted teeth as he muscles stiffened against the stinging pain. Quickly repeating the process with the other arm, he allowed his labored breathing to steady before ripping open the needle pack.
It took several tries before Sam succeeded in threading the needle. He removed his flannel, throwing the blood soaked pieces of cloth he'd had over the cuts to the floor of the Impala. Lightly dabbing at his arms, Sam tried to clear away some of the blood so he could see while he worked.
The lacerations were deep, and jagged from the dull blade. His left arm had two, though thankfully, it wasn't bleeding as bad as the right. As soon as he wiped away the blood more quickly pooled in the deep cuts and dripped on his pants in a never-ending current of red. He huffed in defeat; he would just have to go by feeling. Decidedly the left would be easier to start on, since Sam was right handed.
Biting down on a clean part of his flannel, Sam poked the needle through the bruised flesh around the bigger cut. His hand shook slightly as he worked, holding his breath against the pain. Even without good lighting Sam could tell the stitches were rough at best, but the only alternative happened to be sitting here and bleeding to death, which didn't sound too appealing.
The stitching went agonizingly slow, more than once Sam stabbed the needle too far forcing ragged grasps from his lips as the pain spiked in intensity for a few terrible seconds. When he finished with the left side he could already tell he hadn't gotten the muscles lined up well, each movement sent nerve grating twinges through his whole left side. But, blessedly, the bleeding had almost stopped.
Pausing for a brief moment to regain his composure, a thought occurred to Sam. Now that it appeared he might actually make it out of this mess alive, he'd need someone to take care of him. He only had so much demon blood and once that ran out he feared the effects of blood loss and injury would hit him full force. And if the strange phenomenon of his body using demon blood to replace his own was a reality he had no idea what the repercussions of that might entail. He hated the idea of going to a hospital; doubly so since he'd have to explain this somehow.
Okay, Sam. Stop future tripping and focus on the task at hand.
With a sigh of determination, Sam started on his other arm, wincing as more blood leaked from the wound, trickling all over the younger Winchester and the upholstery surrounding him. If Dean were to see the inside of his baby right now he'd surely have a cow!
Once he'd finally finished his unpleasant task, Sam carefully wrapping his arms the best he could with the remaining pieces of his flannel. He wasted no time in digging around the Impala's glove box, trying to locate another phone without breaking one his stitches. To hell with all this, he needed to at least hear Dean's voice.
When his hand closed around a familiar object he felt a small sense of relief; until he remembered all the spare chargers were in the trunk of the car. Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to walk the distance, as small as it was, without collapsing so he opted against even trying. Sighing, he packed all the medical supplies back into the bag and stashed it under the seat with his foot.
Biting his lips against groans of pain, Sam slowly crawled over to the driver's side of the Impala and shoved the keys shakily into the emission. He'd spotted a foreclosed house on the way over, and as much as he wanted to get as far away from there as possible, he knew driving very far in his current condition was utterly out of the question.
The car's engine roared to life, the only sound in the otherwise deserted street. This whole place still gave him the creeps, having the sneaking suspicion Raven had only been part of a bigger evil at work. But he wasn't about to stick around to fine out.
Praying his strength lasted long enough to get him out of harm's way, Sam swung the car around and drove off.
No more than ten minutes pasted before the symptoms of blood loss and shock started to kick in again. Sam cursed under his breath and grabbed more blood from the cooler, perhaps his earlier assumptions had been wrong. But if that were the case this just brought up more questions.
The old house he pulled up that had a foreclosure sign swinging in the front yard sat a ways off the road and had been completely overrun by brushes and vines. The driveway leading up to it was gravel and full of potholes. There were no fences in obstructing his path so Sam pulled the Impala around back to keep hidden from the road.
The place appeared to have been built at least fifty years ago and hadn't seen proper maintenance in probably half that long. The windows were boarded and no-trespassing signs littered the walls and dirt surrounding the house.
Sam groggily heaved himself upright enough to grab a blanket from the backseat, grunting softly as the movement caused increased discomfort on his wounds. His original plan had been to crash inside the house but the exhaustion pulling him towards oblivion quickly dismantled that idea.
Shivering, Sam wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, using his jacket as a pillow and soon drifted off into a restless sleep. Hopefully he'd have more strength in the morning.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Castiel."
The dark haired angel looked up abruptly from his position sitting on a fallen log at the sound of his name. He found himself looking into the eyes of a female Rit Zien, one he recognized as Sarah. She tilted her head slightly at him in a silent inquiry, her wavy blonde hair falling into her eyes.
"Hello, Sarah." Castiel greeted calmly, returning his gaze to the creek he'd been watching earlier. He found the soft sound of the water bubbling over the rocks soothing. He knew she posed no threat to him, she simply felt his pain and had been drawn to it. Rit Zien angels only healed, and killed suffering angels when necessarily, they rarely medaled in the affairs of the warrior angels, preferring to remain neutral and perform their jobs without biase.
"Castiel." She said again, moving closer. Her tiny vessel would barely measure past Castiel's chest had they been standing side by side, she couldn't be more than five feet tall and appeared barely older than a teenage. Castiel wondered if she'd picked this girl on purpose. Sarah was a relatively young angel, maybe she felt connected to this human somehow.
"I feel your pain." Sarah stated calmly, no emotion in her voice, like she was merely talking about the weather. "What troubles you?"
"Nothing you can assist me with." Castiel replied heavily, not meeting her gaze.
"You are wrong." He felt her place a comforting hand in his shoulder. "I can help you if you let me."
"Why would you want to help me?" Castiel questioned, his eyes searching her face for any signs of her motive. "After what I did, all the angels I killed. Why would anyone in heaven want anything more than for me to suffer?"
"Because even after all that, you are still one of us." Sarah replied as if the reason should be obvious.
"How can you say that?" a measured about of anger made its way into the angel's voice. If he couldn't accept himself how dare anyone else try to?
"No matter what you do, you'll always be an angel. There are those amongst us who still feel you have a valuable place here with us. You only need accept our help and let us wash your mind of the pain these human emotions cause."
Castiel sighed, not trusting his voice not to crack if he spoke. He wanted to believe the things she said, wanted so badly to fix all the mayhem and angst he'd caused, and maybe he could if he allowed the other angels to help him. He felt the hand on his shoulder brush against his neck and a wave of peace washed over him, chasing away the turmoil he'd been battling for so long. It didn't completely disappear, but it retreated to the back of his mind where he could look at it logically instead of drowning in the moment like he'd been. And just like that the choice became clear.
Mind made up, Castiel turned his icy blue eyes to lock with Sarah's brown ones, before he could turn back on his decision. "I want your help."
Sarah smiled. "Good choice."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Wakey wakey, Dean."
Someone was whispering in his ear, or was he dreaming? Dean shifted away from the sound with a groan, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the annoyance.
"I haven't got all day. Though I do fancy you from this angle."
What? Dean was instantly awake, instinctively reached for the knife under his pillow and twisting around in the bed, fighting the sheets holding his legs hostage. "Get back!" he warned, swinging the knife in front of his face.
"Well." The voice chuckled drily. "I was expecting a warmer welcome from the person who summoned me, but that's what I get thinking a Winchester could possibly be hospitable."
"Crowley?" Dean grumbled, finally laying eyes on the demon standing at the foot of his bed with a shitty grin on his face. He lowered his blade and glanced at the window, the sun had just started to rise above the mountains and dim light filtered in through the cracks in the ratty curtain. He figured it was about six in the morning. He'd overslept.
"'ello, Dean. It's been too long." Crowley said in his normal flirty voice.
"Not nearly long enough, if you ask me."
"Might I remind you; you called me." Crowley supplied, walking closer to Dean as the hunter untangled his legs from the covers and hopped out of bed, facing the demon with a cold expression on his freckled face. "Though you might get a quicker response in the future if you bothered to make social call once in a while. You know, as foreplay." He smirked. "Instead of just demanding my services whenever darling Samantha has her period."
"Ever hear of knocking?" Dean gritted his teeth in annoyance, even though he wanted the demon's help; Crowley was the last person he wanted to see in the morning, or anytime really.
"Psh!" the demon rolled his eyes, gaze falling on the empty bed next to them, eyebrows shooting up in question. "Where is Moose anyway? I have a bone to pick with him."
Rubbing a hand down the nape of his neck, Dean sighed deeply, eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not here."
"You two have another lovers spat? I don't normally deal with domestic disputes; too messy."
Dean clenched his jaw angrily. "Look, Crowley. I've been in Purgatory the last year, slicing and dicing my way through all the world's fines, and I wouldn't mind doing the same to you. So let's skip the chit chat and get right do the reason I summoned you."
"I like it when you talk rough, makes my lower regions all tingly."
Dean gripped the knife handle tightly, veins in his neck bulging from the effort of keeping his cool. He gave the demon a death stare, daring him to make another comment thick with sexual subtext.
"Okay, fine." Crowley pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What'd you want?"
"I need you to use you witchy powers and tell me where Sam is." Dean answered as calmly as possible.
"Hmm." Crowley snorted. "And why would I do that? Doubtful you have anything I want in trade and I'm not that fond of Moose at the moment."
"Come on, Crowley!" Dean all but shouted, resisting the urge to ask why Sam seemed higher on the demon's shit list than normal. "I'll do anything you want, I just need to find my brother."
Smiling, Crowley turned his back and walked over to the bowl sitting on the table, pinching the burnt remains of the herbs lining the bottom between his fingers. "Anything, you say?" the demon sounded mildly intrigued.
"Yeah, sure. Now are you going to help me or not? Because if not get the hell out of here so I can wake up and get some coffee."
Crowley raised an eyebrow at that but nodded. "I suppose you could owe me a favor, just this once."
"What?" Dean questioned in disbelief, not sure he'd heard correctly. "I can owe you favor? Why?" he tilted his head.
Again Crowley rolled his eyes and Dean had to restrain his desire to punch the smugness straight off that annoying demon's face. "Guess I'm in a generous mood."
"Yeah, that never happens."
"Well, in that case, I guess I'll be on my way." Crowley made like he was going to snap his fingers and vanish but Dean stepped forward, not wanting to lose his chance at getting an exact location on Sam. As much as he loathed the demon, finding his brother took first priority.
"Wait!"
"What's this?" Crowley sneered, slowing lowering his hand. "Desperate for my help after all?"
Sighing, Dean sauntered over and stared the shorter man in the eyes. "What do you need for the spell to work?" he demanded, wanting to be done and on the road as soon as possible. This is crazy, I can't believe I'm trusting Crowley again.
"You really like ta just bend 'em over, don't you?"
Oh my god! Dean massaged his temples while Crowley watched with a bored expression.
Perhaps tiring of his own game the demon relented. "Simple really, I just need something near or dear to the distressed damsel's heart."
"What?" Dean shook his head. "What does that mean?"
"Just what I said." Crowley's voice rose in obvious irritation. "An item Sam either owns and or holds dear, how is that so hard to wrap your brain around?"
"I don't have anything of his!" Dean yelled, sending the bowl and ashes flying to the floor with a swing of his hand. "I've been locked in Purgatory for a year!"
"So I heard."
"This is bullshit!" the hunter shoved his finger in Crowley's face. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"
"My bad, I just assumed you two had matching friendship bracelets, maybe a couple promise rings, or some other trinket pledging your undying love for each other, no?" He smirked when Dean gave him a withering look, than in a more pissed off voice added. "I don't make up the rules, I just play by them!"
Dean paced back and forth, huffing his displeasure as he walked, raking his brain for anything he might have that would to the trick. Crowley appeared delighted by Dean's distress and that just made him want to choke the demon out in cold blood.
"What about me?" Dean wondered out loud, turning a hopeful gaze to the demon. He wasn't sure what he even meant by that; but hey, Sam cared about him right? Well maybe not… he winced at the thought of their last phone call.
Crowley's forehead winkled in amusement before he snorted. "Unless you fancy bursting into flames, I would strongly advise against it."
Dean felt panic start to take hold, he had to find Sam no matter what it cost! Except, maybe bursting into flames.
"Though," Crowley placed a finger on his lips as if thinking. "there is one other way."
"And you didn't think to mention this to begin with?" Dean growled.
"Well, I didn't think you'd be up for it, you two are such good friends and all, but you appear quite desperate so I figured I'd at least throw it out there for consideration just in case. I do love a good family betrayal story, or whatever he is to you." Crowley smiled sweetly at Dean's confusion. "Did Cas make it out with you by chance?"
"Cas?" Dean's frown eased and his eyes widened at the sudden one eighty the conversation had taken. The demon cocked one eyebrow, waiting for the hunter to elaborate.
"Yeah. Yeah, Cas made it out."
Smiling, Crowley nodded once. "Good, I have a little present for him." He dug in his suit pocket and produced a small glass orb about the size of a golf ball. It shimmered slightly in the room's dim light and Dean could see the color was made up entirely of different shades of red, which appeared to be swirling around each other beneath the glass's surface.
"Is that a ball of blood?" Dean asked, not even wanting to know.
"No. Catch."
Half anticipating something bad happening, Dean caught the orb easily in his fingers, fighting the urge to flinch. But nothing happened; his fingers didn't erupt into flames and he didn't grow a second head. He looked at the demon inquisitively.
Crowley sighed dramatically, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I said it was for the angel, not you, ya nimrod."
"What does it do?"
"Aha, ah. Sorry, spoilers."
"I'm not giving this to Cas, I'm sure it's nothing good, I'm not that dumb."
"Dumb? Maybe not." Crowley tilted his head to the left, pressing his lips together in satisfaction. "But desperate? I think so. You do want to find baby brother, don't you?"
Swallowing down the sudden pang of guilt, Dean played the ball between his fingers, hesitating as he mulled over his options. Cas was an angel, he could totally handle any spell infused trinket the King of Hell "gifted" him - right? Making up his mind, the hunter shoved the glowing orb in his jacket pocket before hurriedly putting the piece of clothing on. I'm sorry, Cas.
"Okay, let's get this show on the road."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, I need insure you're actually going to go through with your end of the bargain, which is giving that orb thingy to your boyfriend the next time you two cross paths. It would make a perfect engagement gift, don't you think?"
Dean knew correcting the demon was pointless, but his facial features made it quite clear he wasn't impressed.
Tracing a line along his palm with his pinky finger, producing a small stream of blood, Crowley held out his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"
In turn Dean cut his corresponding palm with the blade of his knife and grasped the demon's outstretched hand. "What happened to, you don't make the rules?"
"This isn't a witch trick, this is a demon deal." Crowley winked before vanishing into thick air.
Dread closed around Dean's heart like a vice grip trying to squeeze the life out of him. What had he done? Since when had a deal with a demon worked out for the Winchesters? Or anyone for that matter. Deep down, past all the hurt and betray, he still cared a great deal about Cas and didn't want anything bad to happen to the angel on his account. He took the glass ball out and glanced at it for a moment, marveling at the way the thick red patterns into seemed like a whole other world.
Cas, if you're out there, listen to me. Don't ever come back.
He had no time to pray more because Crowley suddenly reappeared in front of him holding a small piece of paper. Dean quickly stuffed the orb back in his pocket and took the paper from the demon.
"There's Samantha's current address. So don't even think about trying and weaseling out of our little deal, you're blood bound. Things don't end well for people who try double cross me."
As soon as Crowley left Dean punched the address into google maps on his phone and found out the address was in Sapulpa, OK, about seven hours drive from where he was. He had confidence he could made it there in five though.
Quickly gathering his few belongings and slinging his backpack over his shoulders Dean headed over the door.
"I'm comin', Sammy." He muttered softly.
