Chapter 9

Castiel accompanied Uriel. There were always other battles to be fought, but somehow, he knew that nothing was more important than their protection of the Winchesters. That one thing had been told to him clearly. Nothing since had been clear in any way. Uriel was insisting that he apply himself to some new, different issue, but he found it nearly impossible to care, in light of what was happening to Dean. His distraction was not lost on Uriel He barked at him to snap him out of his reverie.

"Castiel, you are becoming a liability! Pay attention to what I am telling you!"

Castiel shot him a bitter glance. "I hear you! Why is this more important than what's happening with the brothers? You seem to wish failure on them!"

"You think so because you're no longer objective. Listen to me: I have seen, and experienced far more than you have. We all know that you've weakened before. You've acted to save individuals, without orders to do so. And now look at you; you're lessened. The fight we face is jeopardized when you waste your power to save these minor creatures, and you know it. I have never done so, and look at me; I am stronger than you, I can be counted on in battle. You were once the same."

Castiel looked away. Uriel was right. He had, on several occasions, used his means to aid people who were suffering. But the power an angel held was finite, and whenever one of them spent some measure of it, they were forever reduced in strength. He knew why it was so forbidden; if they all acted individually, they lost more than just solidarity, they lost real strength, and their company's abilities in battle could be compromised. And when fighting against the Devils own, they could not afford any cracks in the armour. Castiel remained lost in thought as he accompanied his partner. -Give me guidance, then-he prayed fervently. -I know I should be there with them now; please, Father, give me your blessing to do so-

But no instruction came. No blessing. There was only the impatient voice of Uriel, urging him to hurry, to fly further and further from what held his head and heart right now.


Sam sat beside the bed. He was a knot of nerves. He waited anxiously for Dean to stir. And he dreaded it even more. How in god's name could he talk to him..? How could he tell him what his future was going to be? What words could he possibly say that expressed his sorrow for causing all of this? All his life, Dean had willingly placed himself in the line of fire. But this time it was Sam who put him there, and this time he wasn't going to get up and walk away from it.

He was exhausted, but he didn't pull over another chair and blanket, as he usually did at his bedside vigils. He sat bolt upright, loaded with caffeine, refusing to be asleep when he came to. David joined him when he could. He'd heard from Ellen, she was an hour away from Bobby's, and she was anxious to hear what was happening, and worried about locating their friend. It was uncharacteristic for Bobby Singer to be incommunicado, but Ellen knew what he'd had to do with the boys and the damned siren, and she had quiet suspicion as to what he was up to. She didn't share it with David, but she knew he'd done it once or twice before.

Sam watched him as he lay on his side, breathing quietly. He had the urge to spill his guts and beg forgiveness while Dean was asleep. Maybe he'd hear it, maybe it would be ok... It was a coward's way out, he knew it. He sighed, knowing that it could go either way. Dean always forgave him when they fought. He might offer him a cuff to the head, but he always grudgingly absolved him no matter what. But it was different this time. It wasn't a few stitches, or wounded feelings. This time it was life-altering. And this time, it was not poor judgement, or an accident. Sam had hurt him through will and intent, and when the dust settled, the legacy he left him was profound and terrible. He felt like throwing up.

He's spent another hour in that state when Dean's eyes finally fluttered open.

"Dean..." Sam spoke gently. "Thank god. I'm right here, tell me what you need."

Dean licked his dry lips. He stayed silent, and blinked through the fog of waning anesthetic. Sam smiled at him, and placed a tentative hand over his brother's. Dean drew his away and shut his eyes.

David rushed in at the call button's alert. "Did he wake?" He checked him over anxiously.

"Yeah, for a minute. He drifted off again."

David hovered close. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean whispered a yes. He opened his eyes again and tried to focus.

David continued. "Dean, do you remember why you're here?"

He squinted in confusion, but nodded. He finally spoke. "How'd it go?"

David cast a glance at Sam. "Your injury is stable. Surgery went as predicted."

Dean frowned. His thought processes were frustratingly out of phase. "Heavy anesthetic-"

"What do you feel?"

Dean frowned again, his confusion deepening. "Nothing. Can't feel my feet right. Feels like my legs are twisted around, can't straighten them-"

The look on Sam's face screamed volumes. He wanted to hug his brother; he wanted to run far away. David knew he was incapable of handling this thing now, and he took it upon himself to carry the load.

"Dean, you're just out of surgery. You need to rest now. Sam is here, he's been here from the moment you were brought in. We can talk later, about everything. Ellen's coming to see you, and Bobby too. What you need to do is push this button if you start having pain, alright? The nurses will take care of you."

Dean was shaking off the cobwebs slowly. "What's with the crowd coming? It's not a freaking wake-" He shifted in the bed, and his expression of disquiet deepened. "David, something's different. It feels weird, like only half of me is waking up."

David turned to Sam. Sam had a hand clamped to his mouth, he shook his head as tears welled.

David took charge of it. "Dean, what do you remember?"

"I don't know...Sam and me, arguing, waking up at the roadside, fighting Lilith in the barn-"

David quietly pressed on. "Do you remember why you're here in hospital, Dean?"

Dean rubbed his eyes. "I was thrown, all over the place. I hit something."

David sighed. "That's right. You hit something, Dean. You hit an oak beam. You've suffered a lumbar fracture, and severe neurological trauma."

Dean was gaining clarity. "Speak english, for christ's sake David!" he said in irritation.

"Dean..." he failed to finish.

Sam looked at David as he struggled. He took over the role that was his, and continued. "Dean, you broke your spine, badly. You damaged your spinal cord. You have paralysis, at least for now. We don't know yet how permanent."

Dean blinked in disbelief. He stared from one to the other, but neither was showing any signs that this was some tasteless joke. Finally, all he could do was demand, "What the hell are you saying here?"

David answered. "We put rods into your spine, to stabilize the fractures. But we couldn't undo the damage. Dean, you have paralysis...you have no control past the point of your injury. We know you have limited feeling and no motor control at present. But it's too soon to know what your prognosis is. "

Dean blinked. He stared in disbelief for some time. "no...NO!..Bullshit! You're full of crap! David, you're wrong! This can't happen, not now! I'm supposed to-" He turned in bewildered horror to Sam. "I'm supposed to keep his ass from frying! I'm supposed to save the whole freaking world! Ask the Angels, for christ's sake! This can't be happening now!"

He was in danger of hyperventilating, David tried to calm him. "Dean, you're weak, just out of surgery. You need to rest, for now. We'll all talk, good and long, later, ok? There's still a lot we don't know, and the next few days will tell us more. I know it's hard, but try not to dwell on this right now. You need your strength to heal."

Dean grew more distraught, his voice failing him. "Don't dwell on this? You're telling me I'm some kind of cripple, for god's sake! This is crazy, this can't be right! Where's Cas, I need to talk to Cas!"

Sam laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Dean, It'll be ok, we'll get through this-"

Dean shoved it away. "Don't touch me! Don't talk to me! Just get the hell away, Sam! Christ, haven't you done enough?" He was finding it hard to breath, he broke into a sweat and blinked hard, and he began to feel faint. Various monitors had begun to beep in alarm, he pressed his face against the pillow and his eyes fluttered closed as he passed out.

"David?" Sam asked, alarmed.

"It's ok, Sam. He's too weak for this kind of emotion right now. I'm going to sedate him. I'll meet you in the waiting room."


When David returned to the lounge, he found Sam, sitting in a tight ball on the floor, rocking, with his back against the wall. He was staring wide-eyed at nothing. He looked up as David sat beside him.

"What am I gonna do...? He hates me...he hates me, and I deserve it. David, how am I going to fix this?" He dissolved into tears.

David put an arm around his shoulder, and pulled him against his own. Sam wept against it, his big frame heaving with miserable sobbing. David just held him, he had no words of comfort to offer now.


Ellen approached the yard. Her headlights illuminated the dog, and it snarled in a threatening posture to her arrival. She parked and got out, and Rumsfeld recognized her. His demeanour changed instantly, and he rolled onto his back for the requisite scratch. She noted the huge pile of food, scattered now in an unkempt ring around the bowl, and the copious amount of drinking water. It was obvious that Bobby had prepared the dog for a few days absence. She unclipped him and knocked.

"Bobby?" She waited for an answer, and got none. The dog barked, and she shushed him. "Where's daddy? " she asked him. He whined and scratched at the door. Ellen knew that it was safe to enter; Rumsfeld would have shown if anything was amiss. She was sure she would find him inside, and she was sure she knew his state. She opened the door and turned on the hall light. The house was in its usual chaos; thick with dust, and strewn with books and dishes. She called his name, and she heard a grumbled complaint. She found him on the sofa, surrounded by empties and potato chip bags. Some idiotic comedy was blaring on the tv. She switched it off and stood in front of him with arms crossed.

He looked at her sourly. "Didn't you get the memo? Mr. Singer is OUT."

Ellen frowned her most thunderous expression. "Shut up, you sot. There's things going on, and your presence is required. Now get up and get into the shower."

Bobby did not rise. He sighed, and reached for the bottle on the coffee table, but Ellen beat him to it. "Dammit woman! You just can't take a damned hint!"

"Nope, never could. Now you listen to me: the Winchester boys have landed in a mess of trouble. They need you now, so get your skinny old ass in gear; I'll be driving us out there."

Bobby waved a hand unsteadily. "I already know all about it. Who the hell do you think was there to rescue their sorry backsides? Me, of course. You're too late, Uncle Bobby already fixed it all. Now go away and leave me alone, I'm on vacation!"

She capped the bottle and tossed it. She sat beside him and made sure she had his attention. "Listen to me. Dean is hurt. He needs all of us now."

Bobby cut her off. "Bull! All I did was prick him with a little pig-sticker! If he's whining about it, it's cuz he's being a baby, and I suppose he never bothered to add that it saved him from caving his brother's head in! I fixed it already, I told you!"

"Stop yapping!" Ellen rebuked sharply. "It's not about the siren, this is something else. They had a run-in with Lilith. Sam's ok, but Dean-" She had to pause. When she found her voice again, it had lost it's aggressive tone. "Dean is in hospital, in Georgia."

"Georgia?"

"Yes. David Bowman is out there now. The boys were on their way to see him when it went down. Dean..." she sighed. "Dean broke his back. He's in a bad way, Bobby; it looks like he's paralyzed."

Bobby sat still. He blinked several times, his mouth dry. "Lilith? Dean is..?"

"Yes. David said he was thrown against a barn timber, and it shattered his spine. They don't know the extent yet, but so far, he can't move. Bobby, he really needs his favourite Uncle with him now."

Bobby was still well under the influence. His normally wry manner was absent and his face crumpled. "Aw no...no. Not him, not that boy! Jesus H. Christ! How can this happen to somebody like that ? What the hell is going on these days-!"

Ellen couldn't help but choke up herself. But she regained her composure with lightning speed, though her voice remained quiet. "Yes, it's a bloody horror, Bobby. But we can be there for him, for both of them. So how about we get you up and ready to roll?"

Bobby nodded. His grizzled cheeks were wet, but he rose and made his ungainly way upstairs. Ellen distracted herself by brewing some strong, black coffee. Once Bobby had showered and donned fresher clothing, he was more himself. The two of them had a mugful in silence. Bobby's mind raced as he sipped at his; -how could this happen? And so soon after he'd left them... where was Castiel and his boss? Finally he spoke. "What do you know about it?"

"Not much. David called me and told me. Everybody was trying like mad to get a hold of you, but you were on vacation, as you say."

He looked up, guilt-stricken. "Aw shit! Do you think-"

"No; get that out of your head right now. There was nothing you could have done to stop this. Last thing we need is another weeping mess that's wandering around catatonic with guilt, when that boy needs strength around him."

"Sam.."

"David said he was beside himself, that he thinks it was all his fault. Maybe it was or it wasn't, but from what I understand, the whole fiasco was brought on by the Trickster. And just when he was at the brink of returning things to the way they were, one of those idiot Angels appeared and either did him in or scared him off."

Bobby absorbed that, and sighed deeply. "How's Dean taking it? Have they told him yet..?"

Ellen put her cup down and rose. "They just did. And predictably, he's devastated. And angry.. Come on; we need to hurry up."


Dean was asleep for a long time. He was turned at three hour intervals, but he would never know how many times it was done before he awoke. David's was the first face he saw when he regained consciousness. Once all the requisite questions were answered, David let silence reign until Dean was ready to talk. He did, finally.

"So..?" he asked.

David knew exactly what was contained in that one small word. He had already thought his answers through thoroughly, but it didn't make it any easier. He told him the truth. Dean was never one to accept the soft approach; as always he wanted to know the facts, now; and no bullshit, thank you. David did his best to fill him in in plain english. When the lengthy conversation finally ended, David asked him if he wanted to see Sam, who was waiting anxiously in the lounge. Dean shook his head.

"No...no, tell him...later. I just want to be alone for a while."

"I understand. But Dean, keep the knowledge that he's here 24 hours a day, to support you through this. We're all here for you. I know you're angry, you're in pain, and you're feeling a million things that none of us can begin to understand, but don't shut yourself off, ok? Let him in...talk to him."

Dean was about to break down, and he didn't want David to witness his pathetic crying. He nodded to get him to leave.


When he awoke, several hours later, he had visitors. He groaned when he saw the ring of concerned faces hovering over him. "Yay. The glee club is here."

Ellen stroked his hair briefly, withdrawing her hand when he scowled at her.

Bobby pulled up a chair. "Well;" he started. "I talked to David, and a slew of other white-coats. I guess you know where I'm going with this."

Dean finished it for him. "Yeah. No hope. And next comes the pep-talk, right? Life isn't over, there's still alot I can do, it'll just take time, and adjustment, blah blah blah. It's all bullshit, Bobby. My life is over. It sucked before, but I never thought it could go down the toilet this way."

"Aw honey-" Ellen began.

Dean cut her off. "Thanks for coming Ellen. Would you do me a favour and get me a coffee? Black. No wait, double double, or maybe something like one of those flavoured cappuccino things; that'd cheer me up."

"Sure. I'll be right back."

When she was gone, Bobby turned to him. "You hate those things."

"Yeah, but she'll make it her mission to get me one, and since she won't find it in this place, she'll be gone for a while."

"Ah. So talk to me, Dean."

Dean sighed. "Not much to say, Bobby. I'm looking at the rest of my life in a chair, so they tell me. Did David give you the details of what happened?"

"I got a rough idea. If you're up to it, I'd like to know the whole story."

Dean filled him in on everything. When he was done, he was tiring, and Bobby could see that he was hurting, in more ways than one. It did indeed look like there was nothing they could do; with Castiel's reluctance to intervene, and the Trickster dead, or chased away. He sighed sadly and patted Dean's shoulder. "Christ Dean, this is a lousy thing, I ain't gonna lie to you. I wish to god there was something I could do for you, but you and I both hate bullshit, and I guess that you will just have to forge on. I got nothing to offer you; no magic words. Only that we're here for you, and whatever you need, you got it."

Dean was fading. He nodded, his voice breaking. "Thanks, Bobby."


When he was sure Dean was out, Bobby left and found the lounge. He was floored by what he'd learned. He'd seen the relationship sour some between them already, but the idea that Sam had turned his demon power against his brother was too hard to accept. The rest of it; well, that was Lilith's doing. But he needed a long heart to heart with the younger Winchester. The threat was brewing within him, and Bobby needed to decide for himself whether there was enough there left to try to save. Dean had unfailing devotion to that cause. And look how that turned out...

Sam wasn't there, but Ellen was. She was seated, drinking from a plastic cup, her eyes red rimmed. Bobby sat beside her. "Found your cup of red herring already?"

She snorted. "I'm not stupid, Bobby. I know when to be scarce." She wiped at her eyes angrily. "Did he talk?"

"Yeah. This is...pretty damned complicated. He's pretty mad at his brother, and I understand that. But it ain't in character for him to hold a grudge. I expect that he'll soften toward him again; just don't know how long it'll take. Problem is; we need him. This thing isn't gonna take a holiday while he gets healed and gets his head straight and life figured out."

"Mmm."

Bobby looked around the room. "And we need Sam equally. It"ll kill him if Dean pushes him away. He needs forgiveness, in his mind anyway. I don't want him going awol and trying to go after Lilith on his own, to assuage his own guilty feelings. That's just what she wants; she can beat him now, while he's still vulnerable. And I never thought I'd say this, but that demon-girl Ruby was one constant we might miss in this. Whatever her motive, she was making him a stronger adversary for Lilith. Where is Sam, anyway?"

Ellen sighed. "He left to do some research. He's going crazy, he's choking on remorse and I know he can't deal with Dean's hostility. He just needed to do something useful."

"What was he looking into then?"

"Loki lore. Anything involving stories about a Trickster character through history. If the good angel won't step up, and his prayers stay unanswered, he's determined to find some miracle somewhere else."

Bobby grunted. " I guess we don't know for sure if that bastard is dead; might as well chase that angle. Hope he doesn't look anywhere else..."

"He won't, Bobby. He saw what kind of 'help' he got from below. He knows nothing from Hell comes without a steep price."

"Amen." Bobby nodded. -Or heaven, it seems-