S13 E17 "The Thing" Weave
(I didn't write the ep; don't sue me-believe me, you won't get much.)

I only own the fill-in-the-blanks parts and my character.


The moon shone bright over the bunker when the brothers finally returned. Sam felt the Seal in his hand, the purple rock both jagged and smooth under his fingertips. He rotated it by the chain, glancing at Dean with a chuckle as his brother came down the stairs with a careful gait. "You sure you're alright?" he asked.

Dean smirked. "Considering I was three seconds away from being an interdimensional booty call, yeah, I'd say I'm alright."

"Well," Sam said with an accomplished breath, holding up the Seal by its chain as Dean set his bag down on the maps table, "we have the Seal. So all we need now is an archangel, and we're set."

"Sure," Dean said, pursing his lips with light sarcasm, "that sounds easy."

Sam smiled, knowing how Dean felt in that moment. Still, they were one step closer, which was a bit of relief, regardless. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a bit of movement in the darkened library, expecting Rachel, but not as he saw her. She was bound and gagged, her face reddened on one side, blood staining her lip and chin. He and Dean drew their guns immediately as soon as they saw Ketch holding her. "Wait," Ketch said quickly, holding up his free hand, seeing the venom in both of their eyes, Sam's especially hostile.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled.

"You bastard! Get your hands off of her, now!" Sam shouted.

"I come in peace," Ketch continued, though he kept Rachel close to him.

"Yeah, right. Let her go, or I shoot," Sam warned, his aim sure.

"Easy, Sam." Ketch pushed Rachel forward a bit; Sam's pulse skyrocketed as he looked at her eyes. He saw the bits of fear she desperately tried to keep buried. "I meant your Pet no harm, but I must say, she's quite insistent. And resilient."

Gritting his teeth, Sam took a step forward, Dean holding his own aim steady next to him. His entire being was colder than Rachel had ever seen it, or ever thought it could be, grateful she wasn't on the receiving end. "You've got two seconds to let her go, or I blow your brains out, you son of a bitch."

Carefully, Ketch undid her her gag. Rachel sucked in a few deep breaths, glaring at at him before flinging a wad of spit, landing it on his cheek. "See what I mean?" Ketch said, wiping it with disgust.

"You're lucky I only spit at you, dickweed," Rachel sneered.

"Yes, well, let's not forget about how you tried to shoot me, and then stab me with scissors," Ketch reminded her as he loosened her bonds and urged her forward.

"Keep your hands off her," Sam snarled. His tone shifted as he addressed Rachel, far gentler. "Rachel, get behind me."

"So it's Rachel, then," Ketch noted softly, watching her move behind Sam. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

Sam held Ketch's gaze with flared nostrils, though he followed Rachel's approach out of the corner of his eye. He was comforted when she felt her hand clutch his jacket from behind. "You alright? Did he hurt you?" Sam asked, not moving his focus.

"I'm fine. He hits like a wuss," Rachel replied, relieved to be near him.

Sam wasn't satisfied. He cocked his gun, jaw ticking. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a clip in you," he demanded to Ketch, clearly furious.

"Not even sure if we need one, Sammy," Dean added.

Ketch kept his hands up, knowing he was severely towing the line with the towering hunter and his brother. "I've brought you a gift," he said, a slight quiver to his tone. He carefully moved to the side, pulling forward Gabriel, who looked at the brothers in a confused panic.

"What a second," Sam whispered, brow wrinkled, "is that …?"

"Gabriel?" Dean finished, just as perplexed.

"No, that's impossible," Sam argued as Ketch guided the archangel to sit at the maps table, "he … he's dead. We saw him die."

"Or did you?" Ketch challenged.

"What'd you do to him?" Dean asked, taking in his condition.

"Not me. Asmodeus. The Prince was holding him prisoner until I liberated the poor man. And I understand you might need an archangel for a spell, perhaps?"

Sam kept hold of his gun, staying in front of Rachel as Dean glanced over to him. He nodded softly. "We need his grace."

Gabriel's head shot up, fevered panic in his eyes as he protested against his sewn mouth. Sam and Dean's eyes widened as Ketch urged the hysterical angel to relax. "At at, calm down, calm down." He took a breath. "Unnervy." Ketch withdrew a small vial of glowing grace from his suit jacket pocket, showing Gabriel and the brothers before setting it on the table. "Yeah? Take that. And—" He hesitated as Dean raised his gun when he reached for the blade in his other pocket. "And the archangel blade," he finished with a slight quiver, setting it down next to the vial.

Both brothers were stunned. It was the final piece they were missing. Sam couldn't help but think aloud. "Why would you …?" He paused, cynicism tainted his tone. "What's the catch? What do you want?"

"Protection," Ketch explained. "From Asmodeus."

Dean scoffed. "The one you're working for?"

"Was working for," Ketch corrected. "But when he finds out I stole his prize milk cow, well, I imagine he'll hunt me to the ends of the earth." He looked around at the bunker. "So, this is the only safe place I know."

Sam laughed coolly. "What do you think, you're just going to move in?"

Ketch gave a small shrug. "Dibs on the top bunk?" he joked poorly.

"No," Sam growled.

"Deal," Dean said, nearly overlapping his brother.

"What?" Sam asked incredulously, looking at Dean. "Are you insane? He's not staying with Rachel here."

Dean searched his face. "I'm not a fan of that idea either. But what choice do we have? Look, I don't know what the hell is going on here, but if this helps us get Mom back, if it helps us get Jack back … Sure." He looked to Ketch. "Whatever you want." He tossed his gun on top of his bag, Sam still clutching his as he examined Dean.

"He's not staying here," Sam repeated.

"Sam, we need this," Dean argued.

"He hit her," Sam shot back.

"To be fair, she attacked me," Ketch offered.

"Shut up, or I'll shoot you," Sam warned to him, then turned back to Dean. "I'm not having that psychopath anywhere near her."

"Believe me," Dean agreed, looking at Ketch with a murderous stare, "he won't be going near her."

Ketch held his hands up. "Look. Again, I meant her no harm. However, she was less than cooperative."

"I don't give a shit if she cut your dick off," Sam snarled, stalking toward Ketch until he was within a few feet, cocking his gun. He was nearly foaming at the mouth, rabid and crazed. Ketch flicked his eyes nervously to Dean, seeing the older brother watching with obvious approval. "I swear to God," Sam warned, his tone ice cold, "if you so much as look at her the wrong way, the worst torture you've ever had will look like child's play compared to what I'll do to you." He smiled a little, adding a sadistic edge to his presence as his voice lowered a little. "And believe me, I'll enjoy every single second of it. Then, when I'm bored, I'll finish your sorry ass with my bare hands. Got it?"

With a hesitant breath, Ketch nodded, swallowing nervously as he saw the unadulterated rage in Sam's eyes. Ketch didn't have an ounce of doubt that Sam would deliver on his word. He watched as Sam backed up a bit, then uncocked his weapon and tucked it into his jeans. Sam felt behind him for Rachel, taking her hand and drawing her close. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Ketch; she knew what his tone implied.

"I'm fine," she assured, comforted by the touch of his skin.

"Now," Ketch said, hands up, "if it's alright, I'd like to use the facilities."

Sam didn't take his eyes off of Ketch as he left, gripping Rachel to his side. When he disappeared, he turned to her. She ducked her head to lay it against his chest, thankful to have him near again. "Look at me," he said gently, tilting her chin and examining her face. "That fucking bastard. He's a dead man," Sam growled, his fingertips barely making contact with her reddened cheek.

"You need him," she reminded him quietly.

"We have what he's worth," Sam spat, looking at Dean. "Why the hell should we keep him here? To let Asmodeus come for him and find her instead?"

Dean's brows were knit tightly together, his own anger at Ketch palatable and more than apparent. "Because we need to keep him close until we're sure he's not aiming to triple cross us." He looked down at Rachel. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine," she assured, though she didn't see assurance reflected back on either of the brother's faces.

Sam drew in a deep breath, still clinging to Rachel. "Come on. Let's get you and him cleaned up," he said, nodding to Gabriel.


By the light of the library, Sam sat in front of Gabriel, carefully using a sharp scalpel to knick at the black threads that shut the angel's mouth. Rachel sat next to him, watching as Sam meticulously removed the bind, sighing in relief when it was finished. They watched as Gabriel moved his mouth slowly. "Gabriel, what happened to you?" he asked.

"Alright," Dean said, carrying his bag over his shoulder and the remaining ingredients and a bowl as he came into the room, "let's do this."

Sam turned, looking at him with hesitance. "Shouldn't … we wait?" he asked.

"Wait?" Dean asked, raising his hand. "Why? We've got everything we need. Everything else is just burning daylight. Come on, let's open this door."

Sam looked to Rachel, who nodded. "He's right," she urged. "There's no reason to wait."

"I don't like you being alone with Ketch," Sam argued softly, glancing at Gabriel. "Neither of you."

"Please. That douchebag won't be an issue."

Sam raised his brow at her. "That douchebag put his hands on you."

"Sam," Rachel whispered, taking his hand. "This is it. You need to do this. For Mary. For Jack."

Seeing she wouldn't be moved, Sam reluctantly nodded, pressing a kiss on her forehead as he stood. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll gather my gear."

"Uh," Dean said, pausing with a turn, catching Sam's attention. "Hold on." He looked at his little brother. "I'm heading in alone."

"What?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Dean, no," Rachel argued, standing and moving next to Sam. "You need Sam to have your back."

"Look," Dean said, glancing between Sam and Rachel, "we've got a busted up archangel here. I sure as hell don't trust Ketch with you, Rach, which Sam can empathize. And who the hell knows what else, okay? Somebody's gotta stay here, just in case."

"Then I'm coming with you," Ketch announced as he entered the room, carrying his pack. He had changed into all black clothing, a large knife stowed in his side pocket. He set his bag down on the table across from them. "As I said, Asmodeus will be hunting me to the ends of the earth, so it's best if I'm not on this earth."

Ketch moved to Rachel, which sent Sam into automatic defense. "Back up," Sam growled, blocking her.

"Easy," Ketch urged, showing him Rachel's folded knife in his hand. "Just wanted to return it."

With a hard glare, Sam snatched the weapon. "It's not much better over there," he sneered as he passed it behind himself to Rachel. "You know it's a war zone, right?"

"Won't be my first," Ketch assured stiffly. "Shan't be my last, hmm?" He looked to Dean expectantly.

"Fine," Dean agreed with a small nod.

"Fine?!" Sam asked, baffled. He paused, face tightening. "So you want Ketch to go, but not me?"

"I don't care if he dies," Dean argued back, glancing over at Ketch. "Hell, I'm kinda rooting for it."

Sam shook his head. "Still, you can't—"

"No," Dean interrupted. "I have to. It takes something that's been over there before to open up the right door, and that's either you or me. So, I'm going to go. And you need to watch her," Dean said, looking to Rachel. "Because God knows what's coming, and she needs the best protection."

"No," Rachel argued, stepping around Sam toward Dean. "You do. You can't go into an apocalypse world without him!"

"Rach, he's staying," Dean said gently. "Because if Asmodeus is sending his cronies here, the last place I want Sam is with me." He looked to Sam. "And if something happens to me, if time runs out, then I need you to come and save me. And save Mom, and save whoever else. Okay?"

Sam was furious. "It's safer if we go together."

"Oh, there's no such thing as safer over there, and you know that." Dean watched as Sam's jaw ticked, his brother barely able to hold back his anger. "Look, I know you don't like this. I don't expect you to. But this is the way it's going to be."

A few tense moments passed before Sam took up the mortar and pestle, grinding the blood, grace, and fruit together with a rigid look. Dean plucked a hair from the back of his head, showing it to Sam. "Something that's been there, right?" He dropped it into the bowl, rubbing his head as he, Sam, Rachel, and Ketch watched the ingredients light up.

"Alright," Sam sighed. "Remember, it's only twenty-four hours."

Rachel's pulse quickened with the reality of what Dean was about to do, hers and Sam's pain equally displayed on their faces. "Dean," she whispered, stepping toward him, taking his hand before Sam could read the spell. "Maybe—"

Dean rested a finger over her lips gently, minding the swollen corner. "This," he said, gesturing to her wound, "This right here is why he's staying. Because I care about you, kiddo. I know Sam will keep you safe, and that's what I need. Especially now."

Rachel swallowed, trying to speak against his finger. "Dean, it can't be killed—"

He softly tapped her mouth, giving her a look she knew meant that he didn't want Ketch to know her secret. "No, darling. He stays."

"Might I interrupt the moment to ask why Sam's Pet is critical to decision making?" Ketch asked, curiosity obviously peaked.

In turn, he received a dirty glare from Dean. "Because she's got more worth in her pinky finger than you'll ever have in however many lives you'll live," he snapped. "And that's about all you need to know." He turned back to Rachel. "Take care of Sammy for me, okay?" he whispered, discreetly dabbing her tears away with his thumb. "And don't let Wedgewood eat all my pie." Dean's hands rubbed her back as she hugged him, nodding into his chest. With a kiss to the top of her head, Dean let her go, watching as she backed toward Sam's side.

Sam wet his lips, drawing in a shaky breath as he held the Seal over the bowl, the light flowing purple. "Coulth munto notox."

A rip opened across from them in front of the telescope, the slice of a door electric and glowing. Dean checked his watch for the time, readying himself. Sam reluctantly checked his, committing it to memory as Dean took up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He paused by Sam's side, looking at his brother. He could feel the tension radiating off of him, the resistance to his plan nearly suffocating. Still, he had to give him credit for standing down, something not easy for Sam to do. Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving it a solid pat and grip. "Okay," he breathed, letting his brother go and heading for the rift.

Sam moved closer to Rachel's side, seeking her hand next to him as he watched. He latched on, his thumb running over her soft skin as they watched Dean turn back to them. Sam gave Dean a soft nod, one that spoke volumes over any words that could be said. It was a nod shared between brothers who had been in similar places, seen similar choices made and sacrifices taken, a pain that never healed, always familiar and inevitable.

Sam gripped Rachel tightly as he watched Dean leave first, Ketch following behind. She felt the currents of tension flowing through him, hoping her touch was at least somewhat of a lifeline for him as it was for her in that moment.

"He'll be okay," she managed to whisper, feeling Sam's fear course through him.

"Yeah, he will," Sam agreed quietly, drawing in a deep breath. He glanced down at her, his heart aching as he saw her marks. "So will you."

"I'm not worried about me," she insisted, glancing to Gabriel. "Let's focus on him."