Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings

A/N: Ok... longer chapter this time. Epilogue will follow tomorrow. Hope you're enjoying so far :)

Part 5

It took several hours, a stolen van, and a few tanks of gas purchased with a fraudulent credit card before Sam finally arrived. At least it was closer than California, since Castiel had relocated them to a motel room in Kentucky after their brief trip to... wherever it was they had gone after their run in with the demons. There weren't many people he could turn to anymore. Of course Dean was out of the question, Bobby would tell Dean, and just about everybody else he had trusted was long since dead. He was not, however, completely out of options.

Sam hadn't been to Kripke's Hollow in a long time, and he hoped that Chuck still had his connections. Not the book publishing ones, the Heavenly ones. He also hoped that Chuck was also still easily intimidated. That would make things easier. However, he was disappointed to find that Chuck had gone, apparently a few months ago, taking his connections to the archangel Raphael with him. The old woman Sam talked to seemed happy to be rid of her noisy neighbor. Apparently Chuck hadn't even gotten his security deposit back after the last raucous party had wrecked the place.

Sam stood on the street in front of Chucks house, and laughed mirthlessly to himself, then began to wander aimlessly down the street. Maybe the angels would just see him and strike him down. He turned his head to the sky, arms outstretched for all the world to see, like a man having a psychotic break. He stopped in his tracks, turning and turning.

"Come and get me," Sam shouted, drawing stares from a woman working in her yard, from a man washing his car. "At least give me a sign." It was almost funny how when he wanted to be found, there was nobody there to find him.

And when he stopped, slightly dizzy, there it was. A tall spire, a cross on top thrusting above the treetops. Then the sounds of the bell tower started, And Sam smiled. With the Chuck option out the window, where better to contact Heaven than at a church. Second best, but he hoped it would do. It was close enough and he didn't bother to drive. He started at a fast walk, then threw himself into a run. He was almost there. It was almost done.

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It was a Catholic church. The newer section was locked, but the older section, the building with the spire and the high arched doors, was open. Sam stepped inside, and despite the dim lighting, most of the pews were full. The old priest, dressed in green, stood at the lectern near the alter, apparently ready to begin Mass. But as the door fell closed behind Sam, the room was abruptly silent, parishioners turning from their seats to stare at him accusingly. Sam dropped his head sheepishly, feeling more than a little conspicuous.

"Sorry," Sam said, voice reverberating in the silence. "I didn't mean to... I'll just..."

He looked around but all the seats were filled in the back of the church, unfriendly stares seeming to become more and more impatient, heads shaking in disapproval.

"Nice welcoming bunch you are," Sam muttered under his breath. "Maybe I'll just come back... later." He was about to turn and leave despite his mission, when the priest cleared his throat, loudly.

"There's room in the front young man," he said in a thick Irish accent. "Please be seated so that we may continue."

Sam nodded his thanks, made his way quickly to the front row and sat down, ducking down a little to keep from blocking the view of people behind him with his tall frame. It was silent for a time as the parishioners audibly settled in again, then, when the rustling was done, the silence drew on a little longer. The priest, smiled, took one last glance at Sam, then addressed the church in the opening words of a Latin Mass.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii...No... no that's not right." With a disgusted look, the priest closed the book in front him with a loud slam, then tossed it to the floor. Sam looked on astounded, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No, no, no..." the priest shook his head, face contorted. "Let's try that again, shall we?" He placed his hands on either side of the lectern. "In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas..." Then he looked directly at Sam, eyes turning black, and smiled broadly. "...introibo ad altare Domini Inferi."

Sam moved to stand, but arms circled him from behind, holding viselike, and he couldn't budge, just fell back down into his seat. He looked around as well as he could, restrained as he was, and once again all eyes were upon him. They were black too. Of course he would have picked a church full of demons just about to start Black Mass.

"Ah, uh, uh," the priest chastised, wagging a finger in Sam's direction as he stepped down from the alter. "Where do you think you're going? You are the guest of honor after all."

So, maybe not chance after all. He pulled at the hands binding him, but to no avail. Then, even though it was a long shot given his declining abilities, he lashed out at the priest with his mind. The priest only blinked, and smiled again.

"No more than a mild breeze," he said. "Don't worry though, Sam. We'll get you revved up again. A few more Bloody Mary's... with real blood mind you, and you'll be right as rain again."

Sam was disgusted at the very thought. He was finally coming down from the effects the demon blood had on him. He was almost cured, and now they would drag him down again. He wanted to weep, but instead stared defiantly at the priest... no, demon priest, he reminded himself.

"H...How did you know I would come here?" Sam managed to stammer out.

"The prophet seemed like a good bet," The priest laughed. "We've got every church for miles covered."

"Well here's one thing you didn't bet on," Sam said, hoping his poker face was good enough. "The angels know I'm here."

The priest glanced around, eyebrows raised and eyes wide in mock fear. Then his face snapped back to Sam with a malignant look.

"I think not," he snorted derisively. "If the angels knew you were here, you would have never made it this far. No... you're ours. And as soon as the souleater arrives, you'll be ours forever."

Sam started his futile struggling once again. There was nothing more he could do, but he wouldn't... couldn't resign himself to this fate. Other's would suffer... again. Unfortunately, his struggles only weakened him, and he found himself slowing, panting for breath as his ribcage was compressed, feeling every bit his human self.

Now, as he gazed at the taunting faces surrounding him, Sam thought not only of all the destruction that had been left in his wake, but of the future devastation his new life would have to offer. His previous strength harnessed for demonic purposes. For death, hatred, suffering, all because he had been selfish, wanting to go on one last road trip of all things. Because Castiel hadn't killed him the minute he had the chance. But, no. He wouldn't bring the angel into this. Not when the blame rested squarely on his shoulders, as it always had... always would.

"'Famous last words', I believe the saying is," a voice grated out from the back of the church.

Sam tried to swing around but couldn't. It sounded like Castiel, quotation marks and all, but it was too much to hope. Then a maelstrom started and the arms around him slackened, released, pushed him to the floor on his hands and knees. He looked up, and all around him there was combat, hand to hand, knives, and short swords that he recognized as angelic. The angels had found him. It was what he had been hoping for. But, if these were angels, why was he still here, still breathing. There was something wrong.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder he swung around, fist cocked behind him, ready to strike out... and Castiel was there. He was out of breath, but somehow he had managed to get through skirmishing angels and demons to Sam's side. Sam sighed in relief.

"How did you find me?" Sam asked.

"It took a little time, but we are linked. You have much of my Grace after all, even if it is inert now. I can still feel it."

"And the angels?"

"I brought them here," Castiel said. "There were too many demons to handle on our own. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Sam said, then braced himself, eyes closing. "Okay. Do it, Cas. Kill me. I'd do it myself if I could, but your way is infinitely more permanent."

"No."

"But... you have to. The angels..."

"No longer want you dead," Castiel said.

"So... they're willing to let you cure me? To let you lose your Grace for a human?" Sam said, incredulous. And of course they would be. If it would somehow benefit them. What was one defiant angel and one human who missed his family to them. But why? Then the words began to spill out angry and desolate. "Why does this seem like a good idea to everyone all of a sudden. I should be punished. I should die."

"Whatever motivation some others may have for keeping you alive... I know you Sam. You are a hero." Castiel said, seemingly unaffected by Sam's outburst. "Whether you want to believe it or not. You stopped Lucifer, and at great cost. Any transgressions you may have made occurred while you were trying to do the right thing, and those have been paid for many, many times over."

Castiel shook his head when Sam looked down to study the floor.

"It's not enough," Sam said.

"The angels don't want you dead, Sam... and they don't want you cured," Castiel said softly, meaningfully. "They don't even know about the transfer. If they did, I wouldn't have been allowed to come."

Sam looked up again. There in the doorway, at a distance that could be miles away for the obstacles that would have to be conquered to reach him, stood the souleater. There was still blood on her torn shirt, and she looked more wraith than human at that moment. She was staring at him. Larry was no longer at her side, she was alone. She made no move to approach, simply licked her lips, and leaned against the inside of the door frame. Despite the battles raging around her, she, like Sam, was left untouched, and he had a horrible feeling that he knew why. Then there was the pulling again. Sam saw her lips move, too far away to hear, but he could have sworn he heard her anyway... inside his head.

Either way... you will be mine... and her mouth fell slack, open, wet.

Fighting the need to look at Mary, Sam's head turned back to Castiel, searching for a reason that this couldn't be true. The saddened expression on the angel's face was confirmation enough.

"They've found another alternative," Castiel said, his lips thinned into a grim line. "It will simply be another hand holding the leash."

"No... Why would they..."

But Sam knew the answer. Instead of destroying him, the angels had apparently decided to use him for their own purposes. Angels were soldiers, accustomed to heeding commands, not making choices on their own, and autonomous decisions were now being demanded of them. They needed leadership, and if God truly didn't wish to interfere, there would be chaos. They would be forced to exercise free will that they had little or no experience with, good or bad. It was only natural that mistakes would be made, but Sam did not want to be one of those mistakes.

"So you do it, Cas," Sam said desperately. "Stop this."

"I can't kill you, Sam," Castiel said. "You're my friend..." When Sam opened his mouth to protest, Castiel pushed on, "... and you are a good man. You don't deserve this... as bad as you feel, you must come to realize that all of this will pass. That there will be light and happiness and goodness for you once again. Some of the way you're feeling... it's part of the evil that still possesses you. It will fade given time."

"It's not worth it... not now," Sam said. "There's too much at stake. And... you can't let them use me like that. The things they could make me do... I couldn't take it. Not on top of everything else. Please Cas."

"There is an option," Castiel said.

Sam shook his head, backing away a little.

"I won't kill you, so just let me cure you. Please."

Sam looked around them. Bodies from both sides littered the floor, bloody puddles on the floor around them. Only a few demons were left now. The angels were winning, and they would soon converge to reap their spoils. Mary was edging closer by inches, eyes unblinking, tongue resting on her bottom lip, though still a long way off. She would devour him, that much was very evident, and he would find himself a pawn of the victor in this battle, a hammer. He really had no choice. He would do as he was asked.

Though Sam instinctively wanted to argue, to exercise some control, he realized that ultimately he had none. He probably never had. Each series of decisions was a succession of heuristics; actions and reactions meted out based on tangible cause and effect, but the big picture had ultimately eluded him. Even so, there was a big picture, and everything had led up to this. Whether he planned it or not, it had all drawn together into this nexus. He felt he was being swept to sea by a succession of brooks and streams leading finally to a surging river, and no matter how he tried to fight the current, he would eventually find himself in the ocean, floundering, at the mercy of every wave and eddy that would find him. Forever.

"It is God's will, Sam," Castiel said, face peaceful, knowing, perhaps even a little pleased with himself beneath it all. It was all wrapped up in that look of resignation Sam had seen been seeing far too much of lately. "You don't need to understand. Just embrace it. Have faith."

And there it was. Maybe Castiel was right. Maybe, just maybe, God was the ocean. Maybe there was nothing else left to do but let the current carry him and hope for the best. Pray that someone out there knew what was going on. Trust in someone besides himself. And Sam knew that when it came down to it, he trusted Castiel, even as he found himself skeptical about God's plan for him. And he supposed that Castiel had enough faith for both of them. He found himself wanting to believe in God's plan as he believed in the angel beside him. Maybe the ocean wasn't such a bad place to be after all. Maybe there would be peace there. Finally, resigned, he closed his eyes and nodded his head minutely. "How..." Then Sam decided he didn't really care. "Just... do it."

The serenity around Castiel was purely angelic, and though small and tentative, his smile was more plain than any Sam had ever seen on his face. The angel's face took on a pale, ethereal glow as he drew closer to Sam, then closer still. Sam felt his personal space grow smaller and smaller as Castiel encroached on it, but he found he didn't mind. There was a warmth, a rightness to this. He could feel the gentle touch of the angel's glow brushing the skin on his face, his arms, like a gentle summer sunbeam. Like the caress from his mother's hand must have felt, if only he could remember it.

"I have to be... near to you," Castiel murmured, eyes searching for understanding. "The closer we are, the faster my Grace will bleed into you. It's almost gone anyway, there's just a little left... then it will be done. I promise it won't hurt."

Sam nodded in taciturn permission, eyes closing as Castiel moved even closer. Then it was as if an event horizon of sorts had been crossed, and Sam knew there was no turning back. Warmth rippled across Sam's face and neck in stronger and stronger waves that somehow never lost their gentleness, even as their urgency seemed to increase exponentially. Castiel grasped his arms gently, then the angel's lips touched his. Eyes closing, Sam could feel Castiel's Grace coursing between them, buffeting him, offering itself, while at the same time filling him with hope and promise and pushing away the remaining darkness like it was cleaning tarnish from a silver set. Warmth and strength lapped at him, and despite himself, he instinctively soaked it in like a thirsty sponge. Then the glowing peace finally began to give way to a dark, calmness. Castiel's grace faded, then at once was gone.

The clamor of battle around them had all but completely subsided as Sam felt Castiel go slack in his arms. Sam opened his eyes and looked at the angel leaning against him, eyes slightly open, peaceful looking despite the remnants of bruises still mottling his skin in pale yellows and greens. Castiel wasn't glowing anymore, and Sam could feel somewhere inside himself that it was all over. It was as if some sort of balance had been restored, and he and Castiel were very much the same now, touched by neither Heaven nor Hell.

"Cas?" Sam asked, gently shaking the angel... no, he was human now. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Castiel said as he weakly pushed himself away from Sam's supporting grip, dropping to sit once again at Sam's side. "I am simply... tired. Without my Grace to counter it, I think everything has just caught up with me."

A look of guilt crossed Sam's face. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"You shouldn't be," Castiel said, turning a small sad smile in Sam's direction. "I'm not. It is as it should be."

Sam thought Castiel was lying, but just smiled weakly back. Then he was startled by a small noise to his other side. His world had narrowed, dangerously, and now it was as if he were waking up and becoming once again aware of the world around him. He turned his head, and started. There, only inches from him was Mary, her eyes closed as if she were deep in a sort of rapture. Her right hand, distorted into a clawed parody of its previous form, latched onto the side of Sam's face, other hand gripping his shoulder. His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. All of this and he would still be prey to the souleater. At least she wouldn't have any special demonic powers for her and the angels to harness. He latched his hand around her wrist, but it didn't budge, so he just sat there frozen in horror.

Sam waited for a time, but he didn't feel any different. Eyes that had instinctively closed against the souleater's attack, blinked open, confused. Mary still knelt beside him, hand gripping him, a look of concentration on her face, eyes squeezing tighter and tighter. Sam threw a questioning glance at Castiel, who hadn't moved and really didn't seem concerned at all, then he heard a desolate keening from Mary and his gaze was drawn back to her. Her hand fell away, angry fingernails leaving red welts on Sam's cheek, and his hand went instinctively up to press on the wounds she left behind.

Nothing had happened. Sam was still there, and Mary was now huddled in the corner, anger, disappointment, even fear radiating from her. Sam looked back at Castiel in confusion.

"The imprint was broken," Castiel said, softly. "She couldn't grasp your soul anymore, not since it has changed."

Sam shook his head incredulously. It was all over. He was human again. He and Castiel were in fact the only two humans in the building. He glanced around, unsure what would happen next.

As the last of the demons fell, the remaining angels turned in place and looked toward Sam, neither advancing nor retreating for some time They stood taller than their vessel's forms could have possibly been, a clear indication of their imperious nature. Their eyes were utterly devoid of any anger or joy, just measuring, appraising, judging. Sam noticed that Castiel closed his eyes and turned from their scrutiny and he put a hand on Castiel's sleeve for support. At last, Sam could have sworn he saw disappointment and perhaps disgust in the angel's otherwise passive faces before they finally turned and were just gone. It seemed that as far as they were concerned, there was nothing of value left behind.

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