Title: End of Days
Author: RoweenaC
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby, Lucifer, Castiel
Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, action
Rating: M
Chapter: 9/?, Linked
Warnings: Spoilers for current season (up to 4.21) and accidental spoilers for some concepts used in season 5
Usual disclaimer: Don't own none of the characters or concepts shown on television. Just building and elaborating on Kripke's awesome idea.
Summary:***Accidental Spoilers for some concepts in Season 5****
Sequel to Links
Dean and Sam have to take on Lucifer, separated and hurt both in their own ways...
"So, you really think you could do it? Kill me? Kill Sammy?"
(follows mostly canon up to 4.21; after that AU)
Hurt!Dean, limp!Sam.
A/N I: Lots of angst and graphic torment (mental and physical), therefore and for some strong swearwords and gory action rated M.
A/N II: Please note, that this story may contain occasionally derogative terms when alluding to God or faith in general. At no time are these remarks meant to offend anyone's personal religious , I ask your apologies if any of the comments seem to be insulting. They were made simply for storytelling reasons.
A/N III: Thanks to my beta Cal for her patience and beta'ing.
End of Days
by RoweenaC
Chapter 09: Linked
"... while individually we are linked to one another..."
~Romans, 12:15~
"...And then shall all the righteous escape,..."
~Enoch, 10:17~
"That's not what..."
Dean rounded on her, pale anger marring his features. She bore up against his angry stare, saw him swallow, his throat working hard to breathe around the panic. His face changed, a soft sliver of regret flickered in his eyes.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I just need to go get him."
Anna nodded but never broke eye-contact until finally, he looked away, wiping his face with his palm. Grabbing the back of his chair, he leaned on it heavily.
Bobby cleared his throat. "I hate to say it but... We can't just rush in there. We need a plan."
Clueless himself, the older hunter looked around at each of the others in turn. Anna smiled weakly, while Dean kept his face averted, unable to answer. Castiel however, nodded.
"We need to leave soon. I would send you there but...," He stopped and his face fell. "I have lost most of my powers." His voice trailed away and Anna eyed him under long lashes. He seemed different, sad and lonely.
"Well, we'll need to drive there then and we can prepare in the car. It's not that we stand a chance of killing the sonuvabitch anyway." Bobby fell silent when he felt Dean's eyes burn angry holes into his soul. "Lucifer, Dean. I didn't... I wasn't talking about Sam...and uh... well, I ain't got a clue how to..." Searching for a way out, he broke off.
"I will tell you what I know but everything after I fe...," Castiel caught himself before he said it out loud. Too soon, too painful. Gathering his nerves, he rephrased, "Everything after I came here is beyond my knowledge." The effort had taken a toll on the angel and he sank into the chair, previously inhabited by Bobby, literally shrinking into it, and let out a long breath.
Dean peered at the male angel, intrigued. He had never seen Castiel this shaken up, emotions reflecting in his face, lacing his voice. His heavenly posture was less intimidating, the majestic composure had completely vanished. He seemed... small, human. With a pang, the younger hunter understood.
An image of John's burial pyre and the ghost of Sam's lifeless body in his desperate embrace washed over him, he shivered. Castiel had lost his family. Not lost but given it up for the Winchesters, a sacrifice Dean admired. He wondered if he could have done the same thing.
He shook his head. As his panic had finally abated a little, he shrugged and clapped his hands loudly, rubbing them afterwards.
"Well, sounds like a plan. Let's wrap it up. Bobby?" The older man turned around again and nodded questioningly.
"We need one of the cars," Dean was already walking back into the study to check his duffel bag and fetch some of Singer's supply of Holy Water, not really sure it would help at all but who knew...
"Sure thing. I'll drive."
Dean looked up from his bag and nodded. No good fighting over the driver's seat at this point. He was itching to leave, to get to Wyoming in time. To get to Sam.
The angels sat amidst the sudden rustle of action around them, both silently peering into the other's eyes. Anna nodded and Cas replied, the sad smile tugging at his mouth not reaching his eyes. "You've done the right thing, Cas. The others are too arrogant to see. I know we are following our Father's plan. We are supposed to be their protectors. But we've been too jealous to understand that. They need our guidance, we were made by the same Father. It's our job to look out for them. I believe in that. Our Father loves his children equally. Have faith. This is just."
The male angel held her gaze for a short while longer, his eyes dark blue, betraying his aching soul, and then looked away, head hanging low. "I hope you're right, Anna. For all our sakes. For the sake of mankind and the whole of our Father's creation, I hope you are right." Sighing, he again resorted to a contemplative silence, his doubts evident in his once indifferent composure.
Anna smiled again, compassionately. "See? As long as there's hope, there's a way."
"You guys ready?" Bobby's gruff voice coming from the hallway interrupted the strangely peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen and Dean pushed past them looking back over his right shoulder.
"Coming?"
***
Bracing himself, Lucifer advanced on the trailer's entrance. He dug at Sam's canvas jacket, hand remaining hidden behind the fabric. The incarcerated hunter was enthralled by the unexpected events unfolding before his eyes. Sam felt as if he was watching a movie, and leaned in closer, careful not to miss any detail. For a short while he forgot his tremors, the chains and his guilty conscience. This was important. Every fiber of his essence told him so.
The trailer sat silently in front of them. Windows broken, curtains flapping idly in the abating breeze. The door was still shut, barring the interior from prying eyes. Nothing moved inside.
A sudden burst blasted the door from its hinges, propelling it twenty feet away narrowly avoiding Lucifer, who immediately froze in his tracks, straightened up, shoulders hunched ready to strike.
Seth stood on the threshold, slowly stepping down the two steps to the prairie ground. His frame seemed strangely too wide, too tall, the air glittered and warbled around him. A double vision of something larger, superhuman, overlay his figure, dizzyingly contorting the guardian's shape. Around his shoulder the contortion broadened even further, stretching the weirdly flickering air around Seth far beyond the trailer.
Sam squinted, blinked and gaped. 'Wings? What the hell?'
"Gabe. I didn't expect you so soon." Lucifer's bravado belied the tension Sam felt coursing through his captor's essence. It glittered, rippled as if in answer to the change in atmosphere around them.
Seth remained silent, unmoving, looking Lucifer over imperiously. Nothing in his posture gave away that he had even heard the words. He simply peered at Lucifer, jaws set defiantly. Sam's heartbeat skipped several beats when he recognized the look. The hunter in front of him, even if dark-haired, bore a strange resemblance to Dean.
'So that's the surprise then.' His own flat, emotionless tone took him aback. Shouldn't it hit him harder? Disturb him? Yet, somehow Seth's likeness to his brother even strangely reassured him. Hope came creeping back to him. 'Maybe... just maybe...'
"Why so silent, bro? I would think a polite Hello, how are you? would be in order, don't you? After all, this is a family reunion! The prodigal son is coming home at last. Shouldn't you call in the caterers, like we're told by the Bible? Oh, and what about Iron Maiden as band? Surely that can be arranged? The Number Of The Beast would rock as an opener, don't you think?" Lucifer's snide taunts bounced off the guardian, leaving no trace of angered or hurt emotions behind.
Sam was still trying to grasp the meaning of the situation, putting things together seemed harder than usual. Gabe. Brother. Wings. Those were the clues. It hit him like lightning. Gabriel. Of course he would be Lucifer's brother. 'A freaking archangel! Holy crap, this is gonna get nasty.'
Neither of the angelic brothers stepped any closer, the space between them widened, morphed into insurmountable distance echoing their opposing sides of the apocalyptic battle. Lucifer had finally given up on his verbal attacks and stood silently, legs at shoulder width, ready to fight, his hand still buried in the jacket. The archangel's hands hung loosely at his sides, idle.
Then all of a sudden, they charged in unison. Running at each other, time seemed to lengthen and come to a stop. Lucifer pulled his hand free and a sword gleamed in his fist, a dark gray blade, with Enochian letters glowing darkly like polished obsidian, pulsating with his heartbeat. At the same time, Gabriel pulled his weapon from the back of Seth's waistband. Long, bright and silvery, glittering like mercury, the sword of the archangel strangely resembled Lucifer's blade. Yet, the markings shone in a bright green-white light. When the swords clashed, black and emerald lightning erupted from them, arching around the human hosts, building a dome of electricity. The bright spikes crisscrossed around them, weaving and intertwining, bouncing off each other, mirroring Lucifer and Gabriel's physical battle. Suddenly, the build up of unearthly electricity stopped, the dome imploded in itself, nearly knocking the sword hilts from their respective owners' clasp.
Sam cringed as a powerful wave of anger rolled through his captor's essence. Both combatants were thrown backwards, landing unceremoniously on their backsides. Breathing heavily, Lucifer pulled himself up instantly. Gabriel was already on his feet again, back towards the trailer.
They charged again, each careful to avoid direct contact with the other sword. Instead, Lucifer thrust his blade forward, seeking the guardian's unprotected left side, twisting around his own body axis to preempt a counterstrike. The blackened sword buried itself deep into Seth's flesh and the archangel shuddered, gravely hurt, stumbling backwards to lean against the trailer, breathing heavily. His sword arm was cupped around his midriff, pressing hard against the gash to stifle the bleeding, his free hand flat against the cool metal of the mobile home's exterior, supporting his weight. The veins in Seth's throat bulged, and for a fleeting moment Sam was sure he could see tears in the host's eyes, pain flickering behind them. And panic, like a distant scream coming from the human residing inside the archangel. The apparent despair hit the imprisoned Winchester hard, reflecting his own emotions. Obviously, being a host, either to the Devil or an archangel, wasn't easy on the human. Seth's face paled and the eyes went flat again. Gabriel was back in control and Lucifer knew it too. Sam's captor had waited, using these precious seconds to reassess and breathe.
'Not that easy, is it? Gonna get your sorry ass kicked big time, you bastard!' Sam put all his wrath into the challenge, glad to see the Devil struggling. He took pleasure in the thought that this time, maybe, just maybe Lucifer would be thwarted. Hope blossomed again and the younger Winchester thrived on it, feeling better than he had in two days, the tremors had ceased completely and even the strangely physical agony had morphed into a dull throb.
'Afraid not, Sammy. See, it's been long foretold that I can only be killed by one of them. They're too damn stupid to take that seriously, y'know? Arrogant sons of bitches that they are, they send Gabriel instead of Michael. I'm gonna kick his celestial ass back to Zion, you'll see. Strap in. This is gonna be fun!'
Distracted by this short internal exchange, Gabriel had charged without Lucifer noticing, consequently catching the Devil unprepared to ward off the archangel's attack. The green-shimmering sword came rushing at Lucifer's throat, angled straight at the tender flesh beneath the Adam's apple. Almost too late, Lucifer let himself drop to the ground and to the left. The blade missed the throat and instead cut deep into Sam's right cheek, separating muscles and nerves, drawing an angry red line running from his mouth to his temple. Blood welled up instantly, gushing down, along the cheekbone, into Lucifer's slightly open mouth. Irritated by the unexpected blow and the resulting pain, the Devil licked his lips, swallowed the salty liquid pooling on his tongue and wiped at the sticky moisture on his face. Oblivious to the consequences of his own actions, Lucifer tried to get up, his blade pointing directly at Seth's heart ready to lance through it at any second. Gabriel tumbled slightly, caught off balance by his fallen brother's defensive move and weakened by his still bleeding wound.
Then everything happened at once.
Sam felt a rush of power surging through his presence, bursting through him, rejuvenating him. Power beyond his knowledge took hold of him, stronger than ever before. Never once had demon blood had that same effect on him. He felt larger than life, invincible. The abrupt, enormous change made him stagger in his head as he struggled to adjust to it, to believe in it.
Tentatively, he pulled at the imaginary chains binding him to his prison. They were still in place, but they were softer, flexible. Encouraged he pulled again, harder this time. His essence arched against the restraints, his newly acquired strength supporting him, feeding him.
Enraged, Lucifer howled when he realized his mistake. Swallowing the blood, mixed with his own tainted, distorted Grace, he had provided the only chance for his captive to liberate himself. Now fighting a battle at two fronts, he hurried to concentrate on his physical opponent, Gabriel. Pushing hard in a upward direction, just when the stumbling host's chest hung above the tip of his sword, he ran the blade through Seth's sternum. Ribs cracked audibly, a hissing sound indicated the sword's path on its way through the soft, pulmonary tissue, followed by a brief stop when once-celestial metal scraped along vertebrae, and finally a tug of nothing. The blade protruded from the host's severed spine, glinting darkly, warm blood dripping from it in thick threads.
A white-green flicker in Seth's eyes, wonder and genuine surprise, then the angel sagged onto Lucifer, pinning him with his dead weight to the ground. The Devil however, shoved at the lifeless body of his brother's host, pulled his sword free with a nauseatingly squishy sound, cast the corpse aside and rose to his full height. Electricity again began building up around him, originating from the dead archangel. Lucifer reached out his hands, sword still firmly in his right, and bend over his defeated opponent.
"Now, why didn't you just join me, brother? Would've been so much easier. But no, you just had to be the same sanctimonious sonuvabitch you've always been. Where's that Grace of yours, now? Where's your shiny trumpet? Weren't you s'posed to use it at the End of Days? And by the way... where's your daddy now? I told you he didn't care for us. Never did."
He kicked with his left foot against the body, sparks of green light flew up like embers of a dying campfire. He kicked again, harder, and this time an emerald flash glared upward, connected with the bloodstained sword, hanging loosely in Lucifer's grip, and blasted it out of the Devil's hand. The fallen angel felt himself being pushed backwards, pressed against the trailer, nailed to it by a myriad of pin prick lightning bolts. Fighting against them after he had recovered from the surprise, Lucifer struggled to free himself. He pulled and yelled, furiously. His wrath reverberated like thunder over the prairie, rolling against cliffs and rocks, echoing off them and overlapping, a whirlwind akin to the one on the beach rose around him, black fire fought green, a luminescent vortex of eternal power.
Blind to the world outside of his body, Sam still fought against Lucifer's hold on him. Agony enveloped the hunter, threatened to pull him under, drown him again but he fought, held on, increased his efforts until...
... the chains finally gave. And he was free. He welcomed the warm darkness encompassing him, grateful for its soothing, comforting embrace. Sam let himself slip away from the pain and the guilt, not caring if he was alive or dead. Free. He was free at last.
Lucifer roared with satanic wrath. The air was charged with electricity, it tugged at him, pulled, tore him nearly in pieces until...
...he was ripped from Sam's body, agony coursing through his essence; pure dark light once more, weightless and shapeless. He turned his awareness around, desperate for a new host. Directing his force to the useless bag of bones that had housed Gabriel, he kept feeding on his brother's evaporating Grace to build up enough strength. He focused his powers and surged forward. It was an agonizing experience, torment he had never known. The residue of Gabriel's pure Grace in the new body fought his endeavors desperately. Feeding from the power even as it cost him dearly, Lucifer gradually pushed the remnants of Gabriel out of Seth's corpse and relaxed slightly. His Disgrace wove a web of infernal healing around the fatal wound gaping from the guardian's chest. Finally, he settled comfortably inside his new host and slowly got to his feet again. A brief wave of vertigo washed over him when his mind adjusted to the new body's height and then Lucifer turned around to look at Sam. The hunter was half way propped up against the trailer, his unconscious head lolling to his left shoulder, exposing the gash marring his features. A couple of brown strands had come to rest on the crimson liquid and would soon be glued to the skin in the congealing blood.
"Pity. You were a damn good piece of meat and so much fun to play with." His eyes wandered across Sam's pale face, admiring the deep cut on his cheek still oozing blood. Then peering down at the hunter's slowly moving chest, he watched as the deep gash Jenna had caused re-opened. Now that Lucifer's powers had left together with his presence, the injury would return to its normal healing process.
"Let's face it, kiddo. You're screwed." And with that he turned around, the air around him warbled, heat waves emanating from him, and he vanished.
***
Tickled.
"Gerr'off, Dean," a drowsy mumble tumbled from dry, blood-crusted lips. Too tired to be bothered to open his eyes and the mother of all headaches yelling in his head, the hunter wiped at the annoying sensation on his cheek. Weird. Wet. Tickling again.
"Dude... ow!" Pain sliced his face in half, raw flesh rubbing against his cheekbone when muscles tried to move the jaws according to his words. Awake instantly, Sam looked down at himself, wincing when another wave of skull splitting pain washed over him. A weak hand gingerly touched his cheek and he withdrew it quickly, realizing the amount of damage there. Trying to get up, he bent forwards only a fraction and nearly fainted when a red hot stab lanced through his chest, twisted around his ribcage and constricted his airways. Eyes shut, face on fire again as his mouth was contorted in an upside down smile, he blanched. 'Can't breathe. Can't friggin' breathe! Oh god.'
He forced himself to search for the origin, still desperately gasping for oxygen. Eyes opened to mere slits, he gazed down at his front. His shirt was drenched in red blood around a still seeping hole in his right upper pectoral muscle. 'Jenna.'
A breathless whisper escaped his mouth. "S'screw'd."
Slowly, the pain in his face and giant fist squeezing his chest decided to retreat a little and Sam found he could actually muster the strength to contemplate his current situation. He squinted up to the sky and was surprised to see that the sun, still a pale orb behind a misty veil, had obviously crossed its zenith and already descended to an early afternoon position in the southwest.
'Damn. How long have I been out?'
When they had got here, it had been morning. At least four hours then, maybe five. Peachy. Then his brain pointed out another interesting observation. THEY had got here.
'Lucifer. Where the hell...?'
Looking around, eyes wide in shock, he moved his head gently into the direction of the Impala. Far away, a lifetime away, he could make out the dark, gleaming shape of the Chevy's black carriage.
'No, wouldn't take the car. No body, no steering. Wait a minute...'
Hefting his stare to a spot of blood-soaked earth with Gabriel's sword lying in the middle the darkened area, reflecting the sunlight dully. Sam frowned and was rewarded with a painful reminder of his facial injury's unchanged presence.
'Seth. Where? Oh crap... Luci's got himself a new meatsuit. Just peachy. '
Nausea threatened to overwhelm him and in a strange way he really appreciated that he would be able to vomit now. Having full control over your own body sure came with a lot of perks, and right now, puking appealed to him as one of them. He refrained from grinning bitterly just in time, remembering that his muscles would react to it, jarring at the sore flesh on his cheek.
Instead, his eyes wandered back to the horizon locking onto the Chevy. Dean.
His left hand dug deep into his back pocket, fishing for the mobile phone. Finally, Sam wrapped his shivering fingers around it and he pulled it free. His forefinger hovered apprehensively over the speed dial button and he felt cold sweat pouring down his back, drenching his waistband uncomfortably. 'What if...' He closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat threatening to burst free in a whimper. Still blind to his surroundings, Sam hit the button. With each unbroken ring, his throat tightened more and his heartbeat sped up. One... Two...
'Pickuppickuppikupp.'
Three. Four. Fi...
"Sammy?" Hoarse, emotions he wouldn't dare to admit to lacing his voice, Dean nearly yelled into his phone.
Sam's heartbeat stumbled, stuttered and then caught itself again, racing with relief.
"D-Dean?" There was so much he wanted to say but he simply fell silent right after that. Sorry, Dean. It's all my fault. I didn't mean for it to happen. I couldn't stop it. I screwed up. Please, I'm so sorry. The words seemed too small, inappropriate, stale, unworthy of the apocalyptic scale of his wrong-doings. Sam swallowed and changed course going for the matter-of-fact approach Dean would understand and prefer.
"Sam, you okay? Dammit, say something!"
"Yeah. Sssor...", he caught himself just before the words tumbled from his tell-tale tongue. "I mean, yeah. I'm okay. Not great but okay. Listen, Lucifer", he gasped when shortness of breath and a sudden spike in his throbbing headache resulted in an explosion of gray stars in front of his eyes.
He took a deep breath, bit down hard on his bottom lip to fight the urge to wince and went on, hoping Dean wouldn't pick up on the tremors in his voice. 'God help me, but Dean in full on protective mode is more than I can handle now.'
"Lucifer has a new host. He's gone to God knows where. I'm … uh...", he gazed around gingerly, trying not to stir his wounds. To his left a cliff rose high into the sky, rough stone, crevices running across it in irregular patterns. A bit further down the stone formation showed a slim indentation all the way to the bottom. An old trail lead through the chasm into the plains of the prairie.
Something flickered deep down in Sam's mental archives, a pencil drawing. An old one. Somewhere....?
"We're on our way to Wyo...", Dean began when Sam cut across him, finally making the connection.
"That's it! Devils Gate, Wyoming. Dad had a drawing of it in the journal... That's why..."
"Dude, you done blabbing? I said we're coming, we're on our way there. Did he... did he take the car?"
Of course, Dean and his baby. Sam grinned involuntary and his eyes started watering immediately pain lanced through his face in waves of liquid fire. Taking a few seconds to be sure his voice wouldn't betray his struggle, he continued finally, "No, she's here. Safe and sound. How long till you get here?
"Let's see..." Dean's voice grew fainter, talking to his companions. Sam sighed soundlessly, the hardship of talking without telling gasps in between was taking its toll on him.
"Bobby says 'bout five or six hours. Sam, you sure you're okay?" Worry emanated from the phone like an almost palpable presence. Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head gently against the trailer.
"I'm good." Six hours would be too long. He knew it. Not just because of the estimated blood loss but because Lucifer already had at least four hours on them. There was no time. His weary gaze searched the Impala once more.
"Listen Dean, I think we'd better... meet somewhere." Breathing heavily, Sam held the mouthpiece in the opposite direction.
"Um... Buffalo? That's four hours tops. And 'bout the same time for you, right?" Dean waited, the unspoken need to take care of his baby brother hanging in the distance between them.
Sam heard it. Grateful and feeling guilty at the same time, he fisted his jeans with his right hand, regretting the muscle contraction instantly.
"'kay. Buffalo."
"Take the I220 into Casper and then the I25 north until you get to Buffalo, then follow the signs to I90. First motel off the I90. Meet ya there, bro. Hang in there, Sammy. You hear me? We're gonna get this sucker. And when we, do I'm gonna kick his ass back to the pit."
"That a promise?"
"Sure is, dude. You know I always keep my promises, don't ya?"
"Yeah, you do."
"Sam?"
"Hm?"
"Take care of my baby." Take care of my wheels. Sam cringed. Words spoken twelve months back, but a lifetime of wrong decisions and false hopes ago.
"Yeah, you know I will. Dean?" 'I miss you, bro. I'm not sure I can do this but I'll try. I'm so sorry...'
"Yeah?" The tension in his older sibling's voice rose up another notch.
"Uh, nothin'." 'I was wrong. I shoulda listened to you.'
"Right." Sam heard his frown through the phone. Not trusting his own voice he stayed silent.
"Later, Bitch."
"Jerk."
Static crackled in his ears until the occupied signal beeped a harsh wake-up call into his eardrums. Slowly, unwilling to break the connection, he put his hand down in his lap, the phone clasped in a white-knuckled fist.
Sam sighed, his chest hitching slightly. There was no other way. Somehow, he had to get to the car and drive. Without passing out and wrecking the Chevy or Dean would have his ass. That much was certain. The first aid kit was still full but sadly, it also was a light years away in the trunk. 'Friggin' marathon. Maybe wouldn't even make it that far, way I'm feelin'..'
Sitting there, just breathing and sitting, somehow appealed to him much more than the arduous trip to the car. It was nice out here, quiet and not too hot. Why not stay here? There was the trailer and Seth must have got some rations and water; a place like this, way off from everything. Hunters could be a little anal when it came to storage. Especially since Seth seemed to have been on apocalypse guard duty.
'That's it! He was a hunter. Must've had some meds and suture equipment stashed in that tin box! Only need to find it and I'm good to go... Though, means I need to get up on my own feet first.'
Sam pushed hard against the metal exterior of Seth's mobile home, biting his bottom lip against taunting oblivion. His chest puckered agonizingly with the movement straining his pectoral muscles. Using his long legs as leverage, he slid upwards, trying not to think about anything but the promise of painkillers.
"Nuuugh." A moan escaped him, scraping along the corrugated fiberglass until he stood upright, drenched in sweat and panting.
Not bad, Sammy. Now, let's get your sorry ass into the trailer and fix you. Dean's voice. If only fixing him would be as easy as that...
Sam hung his head for a second, pulling on his remaining strength and pushed himself away from the trailer to obey his brother's command.
***
Dean snapped the phone shut, the back of the hand holding it was glued to his lips, choking his worries, forcing them back down to curdle in his heart.
"Well? What he say?" Bobby asked tentatively, shot the younger man in the passenger seat a sharp look and then focused on the road again.
"Not much we didn't already know. Lucifer's left without him. He's good apparently", Dean heard the false cheer in his voice, his stomach churning. Lost in thought he overheard Castiel's sharp intake of breath.
Sam had been odd. Contained, as if hiding something important. And there had been some worrying signs of breathlessness and pain in his baby bro's voice even though Sam had fought hard to control that, too. 'Hang in there, Sammy, only a few more hours. Whatever's going on with you, we'll deal with it and then we go after the evil sonuvabitch together. Payback time. Assuming we find a way to get rid off him. That might come in handy.'
"So, it's Buffalo?" Bobby's inquiry pulled Dean's thoughts back to the present.
"Yeah, first motel off the highway into Buffalo. He's gonna bring the Impala, too. Said Lucifer left it there. Wonder why he took it in the first place. Shouldn't he be able to jump the wormhole like you guys?" Glad to be distracted from his worries, Dean looked around to the backseat, eying Castiel and Anna curiously. It wasn't like there was anything he could do about Sam's situation at the moment. 'Better not think about it before that changes... Right, like that's ever worked before.'
"Bending time and space is very difficult. It needs a lot of power. Maybe Lucifer is saving his energy for the end. I am in fact more intrigued that Lucifer left your brother's body without a fight", Castiel answered.
Dean's heart skipped a few beats at the angel's blunt way of voicing his own fears.
Swallowing hard, he focused on Cas. His face was pallid, cheeks hollowed out and he seemed tired. The younger hunter shivered at this observation. Angels shouldn't be tired, it was just wrong on so many levels. Gazing to the woman next to Castiel, Dean found her exhaustion even more apparent than her brother's. Although hers resulted probably more from the fact that she was physically drained. His eyes searched the glinting amulet and guilt reentered the stage of his soul, ready for an encore. Anna answered his worried stare with a small, lopsided grin but remained silent.
Forcing his mind back to the male angel's words about Lucifer, carefully avoiding any topic that might concern Sam, Dean inquired, "Yeah, let's talk about that. What's his endgame? What's he killin' all these people for instead of simply scorching the earth and all that crap?"
"We... I don't know for sure. It has been long foretold that Michael will slay Lucifer in the end, banishing him for all eternity. He will throw him into the Lake of Fire. But as to the how and where, I can't tell you anything." Castiel paused and turned his face away to look through the side window, eyes pinned to a point far beyond the horizon. Just when Dean was about to ask for more, the angel continued. "We need to find Michael and his sword. It is the only weapon strong enough to kill Lucifer."
"Oh, fun! Find the freakin' Prince of Angels and his freakin flamin' lightsaber. Piece o' cake."
Sarcasm oozed from Dean's remark and he barked a short laugh.
Cas cocked an eyebrow, apparently surprised Dean knew the archangel's title. "He has no lightsaber. His sword is made of ..." Noticing the look on his charge's face, he broke off.
Dean rolled his eyes at the angel's ignorance. 'Star Wars should be made compulsory viewing at angel college', he thought. "So, why do we need to find him and his sword." Putting extra emphasis on the last word, he waited for Castiel's reply.
"Michael is the most powerful angel. He has powers only surpassed by those of our Father. He can heal you", glancing sideways at Anna, his eyes stopping briefly at the amulet just like Dean's had done before, he elaborated." More profoundly than I ever could. And his sword is of the utmost importance if we want to defeat Lucifer."
Bobby cut in, "So, where's this sword and how're we gonna find Michael?"
"I don't know. But there might be a way to find both of their locations."
Dean felt like a can of beer, shaken continuously for more than five minutes and about to be opened. He had been condemned to sitting idly in the car, desperate for action and itching to find Sam. Any distraction was a welcome let out and he had to admit that a way of getting rid of Lucifer for good together with a chance to free Anna from wearing the damned amulet sure had its perks. "Well? How?"
***
Sam leaned against the black metal of the Chevy, comfortingly warmed by the sun. Looking back at the trailer a few hundred yards away, he thanked God wholeheartedly for lidocaine. His face and chest still soothingly numbed by the injections, he had crossed the distance at a fairly quick pace, only slowed by fatigue due to sustained blood loss.
Administering the necessary stitches to his wounds hadn't been an easy task as he had been forced to do them with his less skilled left hand. Apparently, when injecting the analgesic into his pecs, Sam had accidentally hit a nerve, resulting in the fact that his right arm was now dangling limply at his side. It felt like an overgrown cucumber and even if he could still move the fingers, they had been too unreliable for needlework. Sam had cleaned the wounds with holy water and alcohol and then set out to stitch the gaping cuts back together. The result hadn't pretty but it had stopped the bleeding for now.
Chicks dig scars, Sammy.
Sam grinned. Dean had a pretty sick sense of humor sometimes.
He opened the door, hinges greeting him with the accustomed creak, and threw Gabriel's sword on the passenger seat. The hunter had taken it with him on a hunch as its properties had already caught his interests when he had first seen it. Who knew when it would come in handy?
Stretching up to his full height, rolling his shoulders gingerly, careful not to anger his chest wound, he bent down and folded his tall frame behind the steering wheel.
Sam let out a deep sigh of relief while his left hand fiddled, awkwardly bending around the wheel, with the keys Lucifer hadn't bothered to pull from the ignition.
'Dean would have my ass if I'd done that.'
Another grin, even wider this time, tugged at the threads in his cheek. Elated, even if his injuries were throbbing dully now, Sam felt like things were looking remarkably better than thirty minutes ago. There was at last a chance he would actually get himself and the car to Buffalo in one piece.
Finally, he turned the key and let the engine roar, and nearly laughed out loud when the radio blared Bad Company's Movin' On from its speakers.
~TBC~
Chapter End Notes:
Ending on a higher note this time. Gives you some time to breathe and allows me to slip in some unexpected angst later on...
Thanks for reading!
