A/N: I can't believe it, guys, but here we are at the finish line! ^_^ Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, followed, reviewed, or linked to their Tumblr etc so other people could find this. I've had a blast, hope you have, too! ^_^
One last timeline hop to kick off the final chapter, because I know you guys want to see how Cas got out of the mess he was in. Thanks again, my friends! :) Enjoy the conclusion! :D
Castiel's internal clock told him it had been nearly twelve hours. Twelve hours of standing ramrod straight inside the circle of holy fire. Twelve hours of the flames licking greedily at the edges of his wings. Twelve hours of his grace desperately attempting to keep his true form from going up in a violent conflagration. The fire was damaging him faster than he could heal, though.
The angel wasn't sure how much longer he had. The passing of time went largely unnoticed as his full attention was fixed on staying alive. Somewhere in the background, Castiel thought his phone might have rang once or twice. He was too drained to be sure, too exhausted to check, and too clumsy in his movements now to risk trying to dig through his pockets again without brushing over the fire.
If only he hadn't been so arrogant as to believe he could easily defeat a human—though if not for his blind concern for Dean, perhaps Castiel could have destroyed the false Sam without falling into this trap.
Balthazar would be delighted to point this out to him.
At the moment, Castiel would happily accept that lecture, if it meant his brother was there to help get him out of this.
He thought about praying again, but the angels couldn't hear him and his father was a lost cause. Castiel wavered dangerously, nearly out of strength to stand as his energy continued draining away in an effort to stay alive. His wings slumped, unseen. The feathers brushed the edge of the flames, searing his true form so that Castiel jolted back upright.
He would hold on as long as he could, though. Dean would need a way to get his sight back… if Sam couldn't compel his doppelganger to reverse the spell, Castiel might be the only option. So he had to hang on.
Even as the thought drifted through his mind, though, Castiel's vision turned to haze, and he vaguely registered his body giving out. His legs buckled and he pitched towards the flames.
"Ho!" a voice exclaimed somewhere in the foggy distance. The all-consuming pain Castiel had been expecting didn't race up to devour him as he instead hit an invisible force that steadied him away from the holy fire. Something holding his body in place…
Blearily, Castiel raised his head. He could barely make out the figure standing just on the other side of the flames, leaning in slightly to study him.
"You know," the voice went on, "this is one 'I told you so' that I would have been quite happy to never make. Even for you, this is an impressive level of idiocy."
"Balthazar," Castiel whispered hoarsely. His brother's face swam into clearer focus. Balthazar was holding one hand out towards him, using his power to keep Castiel upright so he wouldn't collapse. The seraph tried to smile, though he was too exhausted to hold it for long. "How did you…"
"Find you?" Balthazar retorted with a blithe snort. "I don't suppose you've noticed, but we're in the middle of a war against a dangerous archangel who'd love nothing more than to rip you into confetti to use at his own coronation. You honestly think I would let you just wander around down here without keeping tabs? Trust the Winchesters to watch your back? Which I see they've done a fine job of."
Castiel shook his head. "Not their fault," he defended his friends. "If you knew where I was, why wait to step in?"
"I lost you for a while," Balthazar admitted. "Only periodically checking in, you know. Found it rather odd when I came to take a peek and you'd dropped off the radar. And since Raphael didn't call boasting about killing you, I finally popped on down to the last place I'd noted you were and started looking for places I couldn't see. Et voilá."
Another tired smile tugged at Castiel's cheeks in the face of his brother's loyalty. He watched as Balthazar kept his hand extended towards him while backing towards the kitchen sink. Balthazar knelt down to ruffle through the cabinet underneath before emerging with a fire extinguisher.
The chemicals made short work of the flames, and Castiel stumbled to one knee with a huff of exhaustion. He knelt, shoulders trembling somewhat from the exertion of his grace and the weight of his wings, while Balthazar hovered nearby.
"You're a fright," Balthazar said helpfully. "Looks like those blasted flames did a number on your grace. It's a wonder you held on as long as you did. And I don't think I can repair the damage, given it was holy oil…"
"Forget about me," Castiel growled, grabbing his phone from his pocket. As he'd suspected, missed calls from Sam. The first revealed nothing but Sam's frustration and zero leads, but the next one was an address. Castiel's eyes widened. "We have to go. Now!"
"Go- wait, not in your condition-"
Without waiting for Balthazar to finish, Castiel took off as fast as his aching body could go. Every flap of his wings made his grace scream with pain, not nearly healed enough to be flying and certainly not ready for a fight, but there was no way the angel could abandon his friends. As he approached the coordinates Sam had left, Castiel put on an extra burst of speed and erupted from the ether in time to tackle Thomas to the ground.
"Cas!" Dean cried out from close by. "You- you're alive!"
The seraph forced his hand up towards the artificial Sam, hoping to just smite him and be done with this. His grace was spent, though, first from the twelve hours of continuous agony and then the frantic flight. Nothing happened. Castiel stared at his palm, trying to process the issue, though his body was trying to shut down so he could rest.
"Hmm," he heard Thomas say. "All out of juice, huh, Cas?"
Castiel didn't hear the rest as rage grew in his heart. This monster had done enough damage to warrant several deaths; did he honestly believe that Castiel needed his grace in order to kill him? He still had a blade, and that required no "juice" whatsoever. Dropping his sword from his sleeve, Castiel hurled it towards his enemy. It pierced Thomas's stomach with a satisfying thunk.
"Stop talking," Castiel growled. He watched Thomas's shock, his disbelief, as the human collapsed.
"But… you're my friend."
Delusional to the very end. Trudging forward, Castiel snatched the blade back. He was too exhausted to deal with this nonsense. "You're not mine," he grumbled, before slicing back down one final time. Done.
Castiel slumped, then stumbled. The room spun in a dizzying twirl as blackness started to creep into the edges of his vision. If he could just rest, his grace would finally be allowed to recharge, but first he had to get Dean and Sam to safety…
He must have lost his balance, because Castiel suddenly realized he was on the floor, propped against the wall. His eyelids fluttered.
"Castiel, you are seriously impossible," Balthazar complained as he caught up again and flitted into the room. "Will you just slow down?"
Castiel tried to reassure him that everything would be fine now, but couldn't summon the energy. He heard Balthazar whistle.
"Looks like I've missed quite a party." The angel stalked forward and nudged the fake Sam's lifeless body with his foot. "I take it he's the one who stuck you in holy oil. Shame you killed him, Cas, I would have liked a crack at him myself."
"Dean," Castiel breathed, trying to raise a hand to point to where he saw the human was bleeding and nearly unconscious. It looked like Sam had been knocked around a bit as well, but not to the urgent degree as his brother.
"So it is," Balthazar agreed, sparing the human a look before returning to Castiel and squatting down beside him. "You've found your wayward humans. Good on you. Now let me see if I can restore any of your grace-"
"No, Dean," he insisted. "Balthazar… please."
Balthazar leveled a glare at him, huffing in displeasure.
Castiel shook his head and started to pull himself up. "Fine, I'll do it-"
"Alright!" Balthazar snapped, pushing him back down to the floor. "Alright, I'll patch up the bloody Winchester first. You just… stay."
Relieved, Castiel leaned back against the wall, taking in deep breaths as he watched his brother move over to Dean. A touch to the forehead returned the color to Dean's cheeks, erasing the blood spilling from his stomach as though he'd never been shot at all. The remainder of his injuries likewise disappeared. The hunter sat up with a sharp gasp and glanced down at himself.
"Thanks-"
"Don't mention it. You can get the other one, yeah?" Balthazar nodded towards Sam, still bound and gagged and watching the events unfold with wide eyes. Without waiting for an answer, the angel hurried back to Castiel. "Now as for you."
He cupped Castiel's face in both hands, warm and glowing with grace. It brought a modicum of relief from the dull throb, but Castiel's own grace had been drained dry, and only time and rest would restore him now. Balthazar dropped his hands with a disappointed frown.
"I'm sorry, Castiel, that's as much as I can do."
"Cas!"
The two Winchesters hurried to drop next to him, concern tight in both pairs of eyes.
"Cas, hey man, I'm sorry for leaving you there," Dean blurted out. "He was gonna kill you."
"You made the right call," Castiel assured him weakly. "I am… not angry." He closed his eyes. What he was, was really, really tired. "I'm glad we made it in time."
"You will heal, right?" Sam pressed.
Castiel nodded. "Yes."
"Meanwhile, you're a sitting duck," Balthazar grumbled, clutching Castiel's shoulder tightly. "If Raphael finds out you've been weakened…"
"Cas, he's right. You should stay with us until you're back on your feet," Dean suggested. "Seriously, man. We all need to just…" He took a shuddering breath and cast a look over his shoulder at the dead body, still mirroring his own brother's form. Dean swallowed. "We need to reset. I say we all head for Bobby's and rest up until he gets back. It's warded, and Raphael won't be looking for you on Earth."
Resting in the safety of Bobby's house did sound wonderful at the moment. And the fewer angels who knew his condition, the less likely it would somehow get back to the archangel. Castiel glanced up at Balthazar, trying to gauge his brother's reaction. "How do you feel about being in command a while longer?"
"You know, I think I've taken about as much abuse from you as I can tolerate," Balthazar retorted with a scowl that didn't fool Castiel. "It's all 'be in charge, Balthazar'. 'Heal the Winchester, Balthazar'. What do I bloody look like, your sidekick?"
Castiel smiled tiredly. "No. Just a good brother."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Fine, hold tight."
Balthazar enveloped the small group with his enormous, hidden wings. As they took flight, Castiel closed his eyes at last.
SPN SPN SPN
By the time the ragtag group reached Bobby's house, Dean had been a prisoner for nearly three days and was too spent to even complain about his Baby being left behind until they could go back for her. Though Balthazar had healed the gunshot wound, as well as Dean's feet and other various injuries, there were other things that couldn't be so easily fixed.
For one thing, he was starving. The first thing he did once they hit the door was raid Bobby's kitchen and wolf down two cans of stew.
The next thing was a hot shower and then finally a chance to pass out, in desperate need of real sleep after the drugged state he'd been kept in.
Unfortunately, this only served to bring on the nightmares.
He wasn't blind anymore, fully able to see, to watch as Sam bore down on him with a syringe of glowing liquid and a crazed, toothy grin. Dean couldn't move.
"Sam," he pleaded. "Sammy, please. Please, don't do this."
"It's okay, I'm here," his brother crooned.
Dean waited for Sam's eyes to flick black, but they didn't, because this wasn't a demon. It wasn't even a witch, a fake copy. It was just Sam. And that was so much worse.
"I'll take care of you, Dean. Such good care of you."
"No! No, don't!"
"I've got you, Dean."
Sam plunged the needle into Dean's skin, and the hunter screamed.
"No!" Dean shot up in bed; he was surrounded by darkness. He couldn't see, he was blind again! With a strangled yell, Dean lashed out to the side in search of the bedside lamp. In his panic, he only succeeded in knocking it from the table with a crash, leaving him trapped in the oppressive blackness.
"Dean!"
Close by, a door crashed open on its hinges, creating a large patch of light from the direction of the hallway. A huge silhouette stood inside of it but hurried swiftly forward.
"Hey!" Sam said, grabbing Dean's shoulder. "Hey, hey! You're okay. It's alright, I've got you, Dean."
Dean's blood ran cold at the all too familiar words. Jerking away, he scrambled to the other side of the bed, snatching up the gun from under his pillow as he went. The pistol was aimed at Sam before he even fully registered he'd cocked it.
"Whoa!" Sam yelled, backing away with his hands held out. "Dean, stop!"
"Cas!" Dean bellowed without lowering the gun.
"He's fine! He's here-"
"Stay away from me! Cas!"
The floorboards creaked outside the room as Cas hurried inside. The angel paused, taking in the scene with a bemused expression.
"Cas, do you see him?" Dean demanded. His voice cracked but he couldn't even be embarrassed. "Do you see him?"
Again, Cas looked between him and Sam, then his expression cleared with evident understanding. He raised a hand and gestured, pulling aside the blackout curtains with his power to allow sunlight to stream into the bedroom. "Dean," the angel said. "Put your gun down. It truly is Sam. I can see him."
Oh. Oh, shit. Dean released the cocking mechanism and hurriedly set the pistol back on the bed. "Um… sorry, Sammy."
With the daylight chasing away the remembered horrors of blindness and the remnants of a nightmare, Dean could clearly see that of course this was his brother. His slightly peeved but very much alive brother.
"Yeah," Sam gritted out. "It's fine."
Dean looked away. "Just… that's what he kept saying, too. In- in your voice."
This time, Sam didn't say anything, but when Dean glanced back up at him, his brother's face had smoothed from annoyance to empathy.
"Sorry," Sam murmured. "I should've realized. Are you… okay?"
Dean wanted to reassure him that he was fine, everything was cool. But damn it, that nightmare, that overwhelming panic when he awoke to darkness, the chill he got just from Sam's voice… for crying out loud, he'd just pointed a loaded gun at his own brother. Pretty far from "fine".
"Honestly, no," he admitted. "Truth is, he, um… Sammy, he messed me up pretty bad."
"Are you still injured?" Cas asked. He stepped forward. "I believe I've recovered enough to help a little."
"No." Dean quickly waved him off. "No, Cas, you gotta focus on getting yourself back up to speed. Damn that bastard… It was you, Sam. I know it wasn't, but it was. He killed you, and I…" He didn't even know what to say, how to explain. The helplessness. The depth of that psycho's insanity. Every sickening touch and word.
After a second of silence, Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Dean, this one hit home for all of us. It's okay to be a little screwed up by it. I mean, you should have seen the freak show we had to get rid of. All his notes, those pictures…" He shuddered. "And all that time, with all Dad's training and everything, I still had no idea. If I'd caught on to him sooner…"
"You can't blame yourself for that," Cas insisted only a second before Dean could say the words himself. "He was very careful. Very clever."
"Yeah, but we're supposed to be careful and clever, too," Sam pointed out. "Look, all I'm saying is, this one almost got us. All of us. But it didn't. We're all alive… somehow."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, by the skin of our teeth." He paused. "Still might not hurt to come up with some new codes, just in case. You too, Cas. What if one of Raphael's goons tries to trick us by pretending to be you? We need a way to know if you're in trouble."
Sam frowned. "That's not a bad idea. We'll think of ways to identify ourselves, plus a new distress signal, and then don't share it with anyone. Not even Balthazar. Not even Bobby. Just the three of us."
"Team Free Will?" Cas asked, raising a wry eyebrow with a hint of a smile on his still tired face.
"Damn straight, Team Free Will," Dean agreed. He pasted on a smirk of his own, burying the nightmares a little deeper as though that would ever make them go away. Sam was right; this one had hit too close to home, and all three of them would have some things to sort out.
But they were alive, and that was something.
And they were united, and that was everything.
