The Winchesters stayed inside for months, holed up in the bunker. But enough is enough. There is a sudden spike of unusual activities and the reason behind it is staring them in the face. They let Abaddon out. This one's on the Winchesters. Dean may have proved his worth as more than just brawn by carving a Devil's trap in a bullet and shooting her but he may have been too confident and irrational when he decided to use Abaddon for the final trial. But it isn't completely against their nature. Of course of all demons, the Winchesters will try their hand at curing one of the ancient, most powerful demon that was hand-picked by Lucifer himself. They didn't have a choice because Crowley kept all of his hell bitches tucked safely away from the Winchesters but they could have been more careful. Now that she's out and free, she has taken over Crowley's empire. Maybe Crowley got weaker once he was halfway cured or maybe it was no competition at all but he got overthrown. Hell has a new Queen and she wants to make sure every realm hears about the regime change. She is a killing machine who doesn't kill for benefits like Crowley but rather for her thirst of blood. No compromise, no trickery. She just wants mass destruction to relive her glory days. And Dean will lose his sanity if he goes on another day without doing something about it.
So he decided it's high time for a hunt. He begins to seek out electrical storms and bizarre deaths. But he does so secretly because he knows that Sam will not let him go out on a hunt alone. There's no way Dean is allowing Sam to leave the confines of the bunker because Sam is still healing. He can barely stand for 20 minutes without feeling like he's about to faint. There is absolutely no freaking way that Sam tags along when he can't shoot straight. However, Sam finds out about it anyway because Dean has been borrowing his laptop a lot recently and Sam has been around Dean enough to know that he's not ashamed of watching porn. If Dean had been surfing the net for Busty Asian Beauties, he wouldn't have taken the trouble to delete his browsing history. Considering how careful Dean is about not leaving any traces of his internet activities and his general restlessness, Sam deduced that Dean itched for a hunt. He understands the impulse. He watches the news too. Sam hears about the recent odd murders and he is fully aware of how strong Abaddon is. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together and realise that Abaddon has taken over the throne. He just wishes he didn't feel so weak and useless. He wants to be out there, fighting side by side with his brother. Not stuck at home, eating soup and sleeping all day. And if Dean is preparing for a hunt, then it's time Sam packs him duffel bag and reloads his arsenal because he's not letting Dean go without him.
Sam wakes up from his nap and walks into the living room to find Dean staring intently at the screen of his laptop. But as soon as Dean hears the rustle of footsteps, he shuts the laptop and looks over with a nervous smile.
"So…" he drawls out. "Slept well?
Sam just nods his head. In actuality, Sam couldn't sleep at all. He had nightmares and his head was throbbing. Like his heart had relocated itself to his skull. He felt a constant beat of pain for hours now and it's all he can do to keep a straight face to not worry his brother. He can't let Dean know that he's in pain. Especially not when Dean will be finding ways to dump him behind while he goes out there, investigating mysterious deaths. So, he quietly pulls out a chair opposite of Dean and sits before he passes out. Sam keeps his hands on the table to hold his body upright. He wishes so badly to lie down on the couch right now because the room is spinning around him but he finds Castiel sprawled out on the couch. He must have slept off while watching TV.
"Sammy?"
Dean sounds concerned so that would only mean that Sam isn't as good at acting as he likes to believe. So, he instantly finds a way to distract Dean from reading him as he often does. He pulls at the laptop. Dean just presses his palm at the top of the laptop to stop it from sliding towards Sam.
"I was… I was looking at something. Not quite done yet."
"What were you looking at?"
"You know…" Dean smirks cheekily but Sam knows better than to buy it.
"Well, I wanna use it."
"Later. Gimme an hour."
"It's my laptop, Dean."
"And I'm borrowing it. You can have it in an hour."
"How long do you plan on hiding it?"
Dean stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Sam resumes, "And how do you plan to leave without me knowing? Your angel can't zap you as you wish. So what? You wanna run away at night when I'm sleeping? Disappear without a word?"
"I wouldn't—"
"Then what, Dean? What's the plan?"
"I was going to leave you a note. Jesus! Who's the older brother here?"
"You are. So start acting like one."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Don't be a dick, Dean. This thing about honesty, it works both ways."
"What do you wanna know? Yes, I was planning to leave you behind for a while. People are dying out there, Sam. I can't just sit here and play nanny."
"And I'm not asking you to. Bring me along."
Dean laughs bitterly. "Yeah, dream on."
"Dean—"
"No, Sam. Not gonna happen."
Sam begins to feel furious but as though the universe conspires against him to prove him wrong, his headache intensifies and he feels relentless piercing pain. He holds his head and groans in agony.
"Sam. Sam? Hey, what is it now? Look at me."
Dean quickly scrambles to drag Sam's chair away from the table and kneel before him.
"Sammy, tell me what's wrong."
Sam breathes in large gulps of air, trying to will the pain to reside and he shouts a little when he felt a stab from within. Castiel stirs when he hears the shout and hurriedly pushes himself off the couch. He rushes to Sam and touches his forehead with two fingers. Such a familiar gesture but yet so strange. Sam looks up at that with confusion etched on his face and very soon, his expression changes into something else. That's the exact moment when realisation hits Castiel like brick wall; cold, hard and painful. He forgot everything in the moment of mental aberration right after he woke up and allowed his instincts to guide him. He forgot he can't heal. He takes his fingers away, looking embarrassed. Sam clutches his head tighter and focuses on breathing. Castiel can feel Dean's intense gaze from where he was positioned. He's afraid to look at Dean. Afraid of what he'll see on his face. So he turns the other way and walks quickly to his room and locks himself. He's no good out there anyway. And perhaps, it's good that he didn't look at Dean because he would have seen pity. And in his very, very long and exhausting life, he has witnessed so much but never has he been on the receiving end of sympathy.