A/N: Hey everyone, sorry this update is so long in coming. Thank you for reading and please rate and review!
Dean checked them into a hotel and shuttled the bleeding men into a room. Sam rushed to the hotel bathroom to inspect the damage for himself before his brother had a chance to go all "mother hen" on him. Cas meanwhile sat shakily in a chair, his hand clamped tight over his own wound. Dean pulled a small metal box out of his duffel, popping it open to reveal gauze and a sewing kit. Dean threw a clean rag at Cas, who caught it with his bloody hand.
Sam walked out of the bathroom a few moments later, dabbing at the blood dripping down his neck with a wad of toilet paper. "IT'S NOT THAT BAD," Sam yelled to the others.
Dean nodded in relief, and then turned his attention back to Cas. "Let me see," Dean urged and both Sam and Dean helped Cas get out of his suit jacket. Sam inspected the large blood stain and slashed material and binned the article, while Dean started to curse: Cas' white button-down was soaked in blood from his shoulder to his elbow, and its wearer was starting to look pale.
As Cas attempted to gingerly unbutton the shirt, Dean found a pair of scissors in the pocket of his duffel. He rushed over to his injured boyfriend and began to cut the fabric from his body. Sam scrambled for the sewing kit, pulling the flask of vodka Dean kept strictly for sterilization from the bottom of his duffel.
"Dean, this is not necessary," Cas started wearily.
"Shaddup, you're bleeding out. Move your hand."
Cas complied, revealing the deep cut. Dean tossed the scissors on the nearby table and gestured impatiently for the flask. Sam handed it over, trying to avoid the whirling dervish of fierce concern that was his brother as he came closer with the threaded needle.
"This is gonna hurt," Dean warned and immediately poured the liquid onto the wound. Cas let out a loud curse and Dean reluctantly stepped aside to let Sam work. His stitches were always closer and straighter than Dean's – if law school didn't work out, Sam had thought about going to medical school. Well, before all this happened, anyway.
Sam began to stitch the skin shut, Cas' eyes glassy as he tightened his grip on the bloody rag. When Sam had finished, the line neat and even, Dean grabbed the rag and held it underneath as he poured a bit more alcohol on the wound. Cas' hands gripped his own thighs tightly, his breath coming out labored. As it evaporated off his skin, the chilled surface began to feel numb. Dean dabbed the stitches dry before he wrapped the area in gauze. The look of determination on Dean's face filled Cas with a strange sense of awe as he watched the man work.
Sam went to the bathroom to wash up and Dean gently stroked Cas' cheek. "You okay?"
Cas nodded shakily, his gaze going to the orange bottle of pills sticking out of Dean's duffle. "Sammy, bring us some water," Dean ordered as he grabbed them and uncapped the bottle. He took the proffered water from Sam's hand and ordered, "Open up."
Cas shook his head. "Didn't you want these?" Dean asked.
"The pain will keep me sharp," Cas argued.
Dean eyed the man warily. "I'd give you some booze, but I don't want you to bleed more."
Cas shook his head.
"What about that speech, about not letting pain consume you? Was that all just bullshit?"
Cas wanted to argue, but he felt himself getting sleepy. His head was spinning, and before he knew it, he was asleep. Dean watched his boyfriend pass out in the chair and his stomach flopped worriedly. He pulled the other man to standing and dragged him over to the empty bed. Sam made a comment about being wiped out and reclined on one of the beds. By the time Dean tucked Cas into the other bed, Sam was out.
Dean finished tucking Cas into bed and elevated his arm. "Just rest, Cas. You'll be okay." Dean threw out the bloodied clothes and rag and went to wash up. He'd rubbed most of it on the ruined shirt, but he definitely wasn't going into town with dried blood under his fingernails. Once he looked presentable enough, he made a final sweep of the room and headed out. They needed more supplies… and pie. After today, they all deserved it.
When Dean got back to the hotel room, Sam was sitting up, typing on his laptop. He didn't look up at the sound of Dean entering the room or when Dean muttered a "Hey Sammy."
He walked closer and waved a hand in front of Sam's face. "You okay?" he asked quietly, since he noticed Cas was still sleeping.
"WHAT?" Sam asked, and the loud exclamation made Cas stir but he didn't open his eyes.
Dean took the notepad from the end table and wrote:
WE'RE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL. YOUR EARS ARE SHOT.
"I'M FINE!" Sam insisted and with this, Cas opened his eyes.
When Cas made a small pained noise, Dean turned his attention to the man. "Dean, why is he yelling?"
"Sammy's deaf because of your buddy back there. We gotta see a doctor," Dean replied louder than he had intended.
"'M NOT DEAF!" Sam protested, this time just under a yell.
"THIS IS NOT A NEGOTIATION," Dean retorted harshly, pulling his brother to standing.
Sam made a petulant noise but put his laptop away and Dean gently helped Cas to standing. "Come on, Cas. We gotta make sure the stubborn moose is okay."
Cas cradled his hurt arm as Dean zipped up a jacket over his naked torso. He prodded the two into the impala and tore out of the parking lot. When they stopped at the town's only hospital, he shuttled the protesting men inside. Dean yelled at the bored triage receptionist and was stuck filling out paperwork with fake names. Whether the hospital was unusually deserted or they were just lucky, by the time Dean finished Cas' paperwork, they were calling Sam or rather, "Ronald Templeton".
"Rock Concert" Dean texted Sam, although he didn't know why. The man was deaf, not dumb. He'd figure out something to tell them. There was no text back, but Dean had to stay with Cas: he would give the whole operation away if a nurse asked the right questions.
"Chuck Wesson?" the attendee asked. Dean prodded Cas to stand up and the two followed the man in powder-blue scrubs. He left the two men in an exam room, a stack of year-old magazines on the table next to the lone free chair their only source of entertainment. After an hour's wait, the doctor finally knocked on the door. Dean then painted a picture of an imaginary mugging, while Cas nodded along. While he spoke, the woman prodded at Cas, eventually cutting Dean off.
"Who stitched you up?"
"His brother," Cas replied, then blanched at his own candor. Would Dean be mad? Had they given away too much?
"He's an EMT in training," Dean added quickly.
"Well, you should thank him. This is one of the better amateur jobs I've seen."
Cas nodded in thanks when she handed him a prescription. Dean looked at the paper quizzically but said nothing. By the time they got back to the waiting room, a sling on Cas' arm, Sam had a large stack of old, already-read magazines next to him.
"TOOK YOU GUYS LONG ENOUGH."
"So is this permanent?" Dean asked loudly, ushering them all out of the waiting room.
"DOC SAYS I WON'T BE ABLE TO HEAR HIGH-PITCHED NOISES ANYMORE," Sam responded. "SHE SAID IF MY HEARING DOESN'T GO BACK TO NORMAL IN A FEW DAYS, I GOTTA GET A HEARING AID." He waved a piece of paper. "GOT SOME SLEEEPING PILLS FOR THE RINGING THOUGH."
"Wow, they're just giving those out," Dean commented, gesturing to the slip of paper Cas held in his hands.
"IT'S BECAUSE WE DIDN'T ASK," Sam remarked. Dean just made a face at his brother and started the car. They'd get an early start on the next angel tomorrow.
The next morning, Dean woke up early – his bed was unusually cold. He looked around, but didn't see Cas. He felt a quick spike of panic and turned to make sure Sam was still there. The big galoot was sleeping, drooling onto his pillow. Another glance around the room revealed the bathroom door was closed. Dean heard a low groan come from behind it. He got up from the bed and padded over. Gently rapping on the door, he asked, "Cas, you okay?"
Cas feebly answered, "I'm fine," but Dean didn't buy it. He pushed his way into the bathroom to find Cas gingerly cleaning his wound at the sink. "Did you take the pills?" Dean asked, gesturing to the bottle of Vicodin sitting on the ledge.
"Don't … need them. Narcotics dull reaction time." Cas clearly expected the next angel encounter to go as the last had.
"You know what makes you slower than that?" Cas looked at Dean expectantly. "Being in crippling pain," he stressed. He picked up the roll of gauze that sat next to the pills and began to wrap Cas up. When he finished, Dean locked gazes with Cas' stubborn reflection and ordered, "Take the damn pills."
Cas moved his shoulder to test his range of motion and winced. He sighed and dumped a single pill into his hand. Dean watched him take it, then kissed Cas' temple. "I gotta go wake up Sammy."
The alarm on Sam's phone had been going off for the last five minutes. The younger Winchester had not thought this far ahead last night – he'd filled his prescription, taken a pill and passed out. Dean began tickling underneath Sam's chin – it was a surefire way to wake him up.
Sam began to twitch and tried to scrunch his neck up. He opened his eyes and a bark of laughter escaped his throat. As he focused his vision, he clamped his hand around Dean's, removing the offending sensation. "I ASKED YOU NOT TO DO THAT," Sam stated loudly, but still quieter than he was the day before.
Dean wrote another note on the notepad:
Your stupid phone's been going off for the last 5 minutes. Fix it.
Sam swiped the phone off of the nightstand and jabbed his finger at it a few times. Cas finally walked out of the bathroom, clutching the pill bottle tightly. His gaze was far away, and he didn't answer the first time Dean called his name. "CAS!"
Cas jumped and finally looked up. "Yes, Dean?"
"He's got an excuse, but what's with you?" Dean finished buttoning his dress shirt and began looping a tie around his neck. Cas just shook his head and replied, "Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you needed help getting dressed, so we can see this other angel."
Cas nodded and put the orange bottle down on the nightstand.
After dressing, the boys packed up quickly and headed for the next town. They pulled out Charlie's map and formed a plan of attack: "Okay, here's the deal: We stick together this time. Only one angel to find and we need to be on our toes. I still can't believe there's a Manhattan, Kansas. Did no one tell them that name was already taken?"
Cas was finally starting to understand what rhetorical questions were, so a few minutes of silence filled the car instead. "We'll start at K State, and work our way out."
As Dean drove, Sam typed out a quick text. A minute later, Cas felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
You're not going to tell him what the angel said?
Cas stared down at the phone and scowled, before texting back:
Idris was lying.
Sam looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the conflicted look on Cas' face. He looked down at his phone, considered sending another text. In the end, he just looked out the window.
Much sooner than expected, the boys found themselves passing a sign that read: Manhattan City Limits.
By the time they pulled into the parking lot at Kansas State University, Cas felt a tight knot in his stomach. He took a deep breath and ignored it, his hand instead closing over the hilt of the angel blade in his borrowed suit jacket. The heavy, cold metal felt soothing in his palm and grounded him. He shook his head when Dean offered to help him out of the car, a new unpleasant feeling overtaking the previous one. As the men walked side by side, Dean was chattering away about "the game plan." Cas knew talking when he was anxious was just something Dean did, so he let his mind wander. If he was completely honest with himself, the pill he'd taken had barely taken the edge off of his pain. He suddenly stopped, halting at a sign that read "All Faiths Chapel."
"Dean," Cas pointed to the sign, "here."
Dean pulled the map out of his pocket and looked down at it, then up at the building in front of them. "Cas, this isn't anywhere near the circle."
"Please just… just trust me on this." Cas looked pleadingly at Dean until he finally assented.
"Fine. But when we only find the standard issue bible-thumpers in there, expect an 'I told you so'."
Cas nodded in understanding and the three ducked into the doorway. Once inside, they looked around quizzically. What would an angel in disguise look like, exactly?
Sam scanned the back few rows, searching the area for the student who was likely in charge. Dean made his way down the middle aisle, stopping at the small alter at the front. A young man was on his knees, praying fervently while muttering under his breath. "Father… deliver me… cleanse the wicked… do not forsake us… humanity is unsalvageable…"
Yep, Dean thought, that'll be him.
The young man had his eyes screwed up tightly, and therefore didn't notice when Dean sank to his knees next to him. Dean sent a text to Cas and Sam, who met him quickly. Sam sat in the first pew while Cas kneeled on the other side of the kid.
If Dean hadn't known the man was being possessed by an angel, he would've thought the twenty-something was a drug addict: the kid's hair was a frizzy, black shag that looked like it hadn't seen a brush in days, and he was thinner than he should be; his skin looked clammy and sallow, his eyes unfocused and watery; he shook as he tried to keep quiet, tried to control his gestures.
Dean didn't know where to start, what he could say that wouldn't freak the whole congregation out. Sam wordlessly got up and began slowly shuttling people out the door. The fervent prayer never ceased as Sam shuttled the first few rows out the door. A few stragglers were seated in the back pew, but before Sam could get to them, Sam felt his jacket pocket buzz.
Leave them. We need you up here.
Cas seemed to have a plan and began to mimic prayer: "Father, an injustice was brought upon the angels. Please, see that they are safe."
The young man's eyes popped open at the words and he stared at Castiel incredulously. "What do you know of angels?" The young man spat out.
"I know how Metatron banished them," he replied, nonplussed.
"Metatron and Castiel worked together to rule heaven alone!"
"How can one rule without subjects?" Cas asked.
The young man peered at Castiel closely and gasped. "It is you… I wasn't sure, I don't – where is Metatron?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Cas replied. "Without my grace, my ability to sense another angel is gone."
"Without your grace, you're not an angel at all," the kid scoffed, his eyes beginning to glow blue.
Cas winced at the words, and replied, "I suppose I deserve that."
"You deserve that and so much more! Idris warned you might come for me, said you're some sort of abomination now… Well, if you want to kill me, you're going to have to try harder!"
His hand went to the prayer bench in front of him and he gripped tight, jumping back onto his feet quickly. An angel blade fell from his shirt sleeve into his hand as Dean and Cas righted themselves. He thrust the blade wildly, swiping at the empty air between him and Cas. "Fight, you coward!"
"Brother, please –"
"I am no brother of yours! Your crimes against heaven will not go unpunished!" He thrust the blade with purpose now, noticing the sling around Cas' arm. As the blade made contact with his forearm Cas cried out, withdrawing his angel blade with his good arm. Dean surged forward, another angel blade at the ready. The angel spun around quickly and locked eyes with Dean. "You swear allegiance to the wrong cause, human!" He took a few steps towards him and continued, "You shall be made example of."
He easily blocked Dean's thrust of the blade and brought his own dangerously close to Dean's throat. The bright blue glow in his eyes was temporarily hidden as he blinked hard, pinning the younger Winchester to the chapel wall. He turned his full attention back to Dean, slicing under his jaw carefully. He seemed to be carving a symbol when Cas screamed, "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM DEAN!"
He ran forward, slashing the man in the lower torso. He whipped around angrily, Dean now falling to the floor with his hand around his neck. "So you would choose this human over your own kind?" His eyes narrowed at the bloody blade in Cas' hand as he growled, "Humanity has corrupted you, Castiel, and you cannot be saved. Surrender!"
"NO!" Cas replied, taking another step towards the angel.
"Cas…" Dean sputtered weakly.
The angel blinked hard, and Cas felt his sling break, and his stitches unravel. He cried out, the pain nearly blinding him. As his knees began to buckle, he staggered forward once more.
"You've been beaten, Castiel. Say goodbye to your filthy human."
Dean's eyes widened as the man waved a hand and Cas' angel blade clattered across the floor. He slowly sank to his knees, his hand clamped over the reopened wound. Sam struggled helplessly against the wall. As the angel raised his own angel blade over his head, Dean shouted hoarsely, "SHUT YOUR EYES!"
Sam shut his eyes tightly, and as Dean buried his angel blade in the back of the angel's neck, Cas followed suit. The angel dropped his own blade, his hands going to the silvery, blood-covered object protruding from his own neck. Dean screwed his eyes up tight just in time: a blast of pure white light shone from the angel's eyes and mouth, accompanied by a high-pitched noise. A shock-wave shot out from the angel, shattering the stain-glass windows of the chapel. Another pulse of light followed, and as the being collapsed on the floor, the imprint of a pair of mangled wings appeared on the floor.
Cas heard the far-off sound of a woman screaming before his vision went dark. Sam fell to the ground and rushed to the others' sides. Dean was trying to sputter something out, but he neck was beginning to bleed badly. He saw his brother's face go pale before he crumpled in a heap, arm protectively covering Cas as the other reached for his brother.
Sam stabbed at his phone: "Nine – one – one, what is your emergency?"
Sam didn't hear the operator, didn't register he was yelling, "KANSAS STATE UNIVERSITY, ALL FAITHS CHAPEL. BRING AMBULANCES. HURRY!"