As Dean entered the open floors of the Squad Four barracks, he sensed Ikkaku moving away from him. The bald shinigami had led him most of the way there but now seemed to fade into the background, either from his distaste of the building or out of a respect for Dean's privacy. He felt his stomach clench with dread. He loved his brother but this would not be an easy reunion.
As he neared the room where Sam waited, Dean noted idly that the shinigami with the horns was missing. The cot looked conspicuously empty as if the man had snuck out of the ward. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. Did everyone know how uncomfortable this was going to be?
As he glanced up from the empty cot he met Sam's eyes. He stood in the same room where Dean had left him, with the winsome Orihime. For a fraction of a second he saw a rush of relief in his brother's demeanor. Somewhere, maybe on the most basic level, Sam was happy to see him but as expected, that feeling disappeared, only to be replaced by suspicion and anger. The younger Winchester's upper lifted in a partial snarl, "So, what's the story now, Dean?"
Dean sighed inwardly and took the last few steps to face his brother. "What's the question?" he asked.
"Am I fine?" he asked. He seemed to be daring him. The question was a trick no matter what he had to say. He would always be wrong.
Dean wouldn't fall into it so readily. He rubbed his hands together to show that he was ready to delve into the heat of his brother's rage and then turned to Orihime for his brother's answer. "Is he?" he asked.
Orihime, who had begun to fret at her bottom lip at the tension building around her, sprang to attention and nodded vigorously. "He'll probably feel weak for a day or so but … his internal injuries were… extensive," she explained, glancing nervously back and forth between the brothers. Though she was hesitant with her delivery, she knew the answer better than anyone.
Dean gestured to Orihime, "See?" he said.
Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously and he stepped closer to his brother subconsciously using his height for intimidation. "You told me I was fine before," he said accusingly, "but that was what? A lie?"
Dean pointed directly at the redheaded healer now, dragging his brother's attention to her and her discomfort at being put in the middle of their family drama. "This time I'm not the one saying it."
Finally Sam looked at the pretty girl who had healed him. In his rush to reveal his brother's deception, to vent his frustration, disappointment and anger, he forgot something essential to his identity. He was supposed to be the nice one. Realizing how bad he must look to one who had helped him, he took a deep breath, turned to her and said with complete sincerity, "Thank you."
Orihime's face melted into a smile with hints of a blush on her cheeks, as she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.
Dean turned to her then favoring her with a wry smile. He needed to disperse the innocent bystanders. "Orihime," he said, astonishing his brother with the fact that he used the girl's actual name, "you might want to find a shady spot." He glanced at his brother as he added, "we might get loud."
The two watched her make a hasty but polite retreat. Ikkaku, appearing almost from nowhere, then poked his head in the room to make sure she was the only leaving before he slid the paper thin door shut. Dean had no doubt that he now stood guard just outside.
"So I was never fine," Sam began the very moment they seemed to be alone.
"Sammie," Dean began with his hands up in a placating gesture, but his brother wasn't done.
"That's not even the question that bothers me the most," he continued. He began to pace, running his hands through his lanky hair as he often did when he was agitated. "That's just the most recent."
A question was the best place to start. "What bothers you the most?" he asked, bracing himself.
Sam focused on his big brother then, his hands pulling away from the torment that he had started to bring to his hair. "Did I kill Kevin?" he asked, his voice suddenly small.
Of all of the horrible things Dean could have expected, this had blindsided him. He felt a kind of deflation, as if his very soul had suddenly shrunk. He wanted to take his brother into his arms like the little boy he seemed and protect him from all the horrors of life. He wanted to make it all go away. But he couldn't. He felt the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "It wasn't you," he said softly.
Sam looked down at his hands, his face contorted in anguish as he imagined the deed right before him. "It was my hands, my body. I can see it," he said stiffly. "I'm starting to remember things."
Dean swallowed hard. "How much?"
Sam shook his head, grasping at the fleeting thoughts like the tail ends of dreams. "Mostly just images," he said. "That one sticks out."
Unable to move, to comfort his brother, to protect him, Dean repeated, "It wasn't you." He looked up to the ceiling, willing his tears to spill back into his eyes. "It's not your fault."
Sam turned back to him, fury finding its way back into his words. "What did you do, Dean?" he asked. "What did you do to me?"
"What I had to!" The words came out louder and harsher than he meant them to. This was a conversation that they had had before years ago. The stakes were just as grave, his answer just as reckless. He could see all of the reasonable arguments ahead, that he had been selfish, that he had in effect exchanged Kevin's life for Sam's. He saw then in his brother's expression the argument that meant the most to him. Sam had been ready to die.
"What does that even mean?" Sam asked, frustrated.
"You were dying," Dean answered, the futility of his words finally breaking through his stubbornness. "I couldn't lose you."
Sam stepped even closer. He didn't care to argue. He only wanted the truth. All of it. No holding back. "What did you do, Dean?" he repeated.
"I prayed," Dean answered. His mind travelled back to those moments of desperate thought in that hospital chapel. He knew even with all of the bad that had happened because of his decision, he would do it all again. "I prayed and an angel answered."
He then described the days that followed, how glad he was to have his brother back, how badly he wanted to tell him the truth but the angel wouldn't let him. He knew that that had been a red flag but he never believed it would lead to Kevin's death, or that the angel would ever side with Metatron.
"How did you get it out?" Sam finally asked.
"Cas said that Nanao pulled him out just before we came here," Dean answered. He didn't doubt that was what had happened, even if he didn't see it with his own eyes. Nanao had told him in the beginning that was why she was there. Why didn't he doubt her?
Sam threw his hands up towards the ceiling in frustration. "Who is Nanao? Where did she come from and how did she get involved?" he asked, the questions coming in rapidfire succession. He began to stalk towards his brother again, his finger pointing accusingly at nothing in particular. "I've only been out for a couple of days and when I wake up, we're here and I have no idea where here is."
"Seiretei," Dean replied, his voice coming out almost like a sigh. He then told Sam how Death had appeared to him, with Nanao in his wake. The shinigami who was assigned to help. He tried to explain what the shinigami were but he failed miserably. He didn't know what to say or how to describe them in a way that Sam could understand the way he did. As his words trailed awkwardly into silence he came to the stunning realization that he trusted them. He didn't know what moment that happened but he could feel it.
"So," Sam summed up cynically, "you work for Death now?"
Dean opened his mouth to spit out a defensive reply but a sudden change to his surroundings shut him up. The walls of their room seemed to melt away to reveal a different reality bleeding into the Fourth Squad barracks. A distant scream came to them, revealing that this shadowy distortion wasn't confined to their immediate vicinity. Sam looked to him with surprise and confusion but couldn't form a coherent thought or question. Dean wouldn't know what to say. He just knew this was bad.
The door slid open and Ikkaku stepped sideways into the room. His sword was drawn and he looked ready to attack. His eyes met Dean's. "Time to go," he said.
"I figured," Dean replied. "What's happening?"
Ikkaku glanced behind him to check for clear passage. "We were prepared for the enemy to invade," he answered. He shook his head and blew out a harsh breath. "Apparently they've been here the whole time."
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, finally finding his voice. He didn't even pretend to understand what was going on. Their argument abandoned for the moment, he followed Dean as they left the room.
Ikkaku picked his way past darting fourth squad shinigami preparing for the expected wounded. The Winchester brothers kept pace with him. Dean was fast on his heels while Sam tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could. "My orders were to escort you directly to Squad twelve at the first sign of battle," he answered. He seemed to despise his current task, his grip edging tighter on the hilt of his sword. He wanted to be fighting, not babysitting.
"We're going home, Sam," Dean answered with the only words that meant anything to his brother.
"I'm coming too!" a lilting, feminine voice called out to them. Dean and Sam turned to see Orihime rushing towards them. From the smile on her face, she could have been joining them in a trip to the movies, instead of fleeing the burgeoning battlefield. The brothers must have looked surprised because she felt the need to clarify her destination. "Just as far as Squad 12, anyway. I promised Urahara-san that I would come back as soon as this started."
Ikkaku huffed with impatience, pushing a fourth squad shinigami out of his path. "Just keep up," he said through gritted teeth and the four of them exited the building into a chaotic street scene outside.
From the acrobatic path that the bald shinigami took through the rubble from the previous battles, Dean wouldn't have been surprised if he shouted 'Parkour' as he went. If any of them started to fall behind he would grunt at them impatiently. In his weakened condition, Sam had the most difficulty but he visibly strained and pushed himself, not wanting to be the reason they held back. Orihime watched over him, protective of her handiwork. Dean was certain that she wouldn't let his brother fail, which freed his concern to the battle that had begun to rage just beyond his field of vision. He could hear the rush of wind, the crumbling of walls and furious yells of the combatants but it was always around the next corner, just where he couldn't see it, away from their path. A safe path provided by their impatient, protective shinigami escort.
Suddenly Dean stopped, feeling a pressure shoving at him. With an instinct that he couldn't name, he turned to his left and stared into the distance. He almost expected to see something, someone, there waiting with lethal force but the alleyway he faced was empty. Then he noticed, Ikkaku and Orihime had reacted to the same sense of alarm. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.
Orihime's attention whipped towards him, her eyes wide. "You felt that?" she asked.
"Of course, I felt that," he replied indignantly. Ikkaku had stopped his rush of free running through Seiretei and approached him. His sharp eyes scanned over him as if he were assessing him for wounds.
"I didn't feel anything," Sam added. He looked to Dean with concern. Something was separating them, another experience that they didn't share. "What did it feel like?"
"Like something pushing on my insides," he described to his brother, rubbing his chest as if he were trying to recreate the feeling. "Except it was pushing from under my skin."
Ikkaku's fingers took hold of the bracelet around Dean's wrist. "Where did you get this?" he asked.
Dean yanked his arm from the shinigami's grip. "Nanao gave it to me," he said with an edge that threatened to punch Ikkaku if he ever touched him again. "She said it would help me absorb spirit particles so that I might be able to see her without a gigai." He frowned as he realized how his wording might sound to his suspicious brother. "Why? What is it doing?"
"Just what she told you," Ikkaku replied. He curled his arms around himself, tucking his right hand under his chin as began to contemplate the situation. "That was someone's spiritual pressure. It can rise unsteadily and spike while fighting."
"It was really strong," Orihime added thoughfully. "It had to be a captain."
"Captain Soi Fon," Ikkaku answered her unspoken question. He glanced to Dean and clarified. "She's captain of Squad Two and the Secret Remote Squad." He shook his head. "But there was nothing secret about that. Everyone in the Soul Society had to feel that."
Everyone except Sam Winchester.
Next Chapter: Reunion at Squad Twelve but someone doesn't show up as expected.