Chapter 12: Brothers

"Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else."
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey

Dean begrudgingly admitted she had a point, but it still seemed like a huge gamble for the chance to get a shot in at him. In fact, the reason he was so annoyed by it was probably because it was something he would have thought of, and he didn't like it when other people tried to play his game better than him; not that his game worked all that well for him, but still. "Yeah, yeah, got it. You raising our father's body like Lazarus is a good thing."

He would, in fact, like to keep his lungs intact, but there was no way in Hell that he was going to thank her for this.

"Now that's settled." She smiled, turning the scythe over in her hands. "How soon can you two boys be ready with your part of the plan? Because really, the sooner I put is in my brother's back, the better for all of us."

Sam thought for a moment. "There's... Dean, we drove by an empty warehouse on the way in, right? If we set up there-" Azrael cut him off, "then Michael will smell a trap. You're right that we should be far away from any people, but it has to be somewhere plausible."

He nodded. "Alright. Any ideas?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You think I actually looked around on my way here? Of course I didn't. You two are the ones confined to wheels, you figure it out."

Dean held back the urge to call her a bitch, and not in the affectionate way he used the term on Sam. He got that she was an angel and all, and that she was sort of helping them, but from where he was standing, she seemed just as self serving and just as big a dick as the rest of the angels they'd ever met.

Save for Cas.

But thinking about Cas brought back enough hurt and anger that he clamped down on the can of worms and his eyes subconsciously flicked to his brother. Damn, he really thought he'd lost him that time, and he wasn't going to let any angels try and take him away again. So Azrael better hold up her end of the deal, or so help him, he would crawl out of Hell again to find and kill her himself.

"Yeah, we're not exactly local either." He said, managing to keep his tone halfway civil.

"Yes. But. You. Drove." She sighed. "There are woods near here, correct? It would be more difficult to place the symbols, but not impossible. You could go out under the guise of finishing one of your hunts." Azrael glanced over at Dean. "See, darling. I am helpful."

The smile slid off her face as she looked at him. There was something dark and heavy pressing down on his soul. Ignoring the violation of privacy- she never had cared for humanity's rules- she looked closer. When she saw what it was, her eyes went wide.

Meanwhile, Sam was talking. "Good. There are the caves where the Androphagi were. Go back to make sure everything's cleaned up?"

Azrael nodded, still staring at Dean. "Yes, that will suffice. Good work, Sam."

Glancing over at her, Dean noticed that Azrael was looking at him a little too much, and not in the attractive, checking you out sort of way. "What? Got something on my face?" He wanted to pay attention to Sam and the plan he was formulating, something about caves, but something in Azrael's gaze seemed strange. And what was that damn buzzing in the back of his head. Turning around to look behind him, just in case there was something there, he frowned. Now what was going on?

For some reason he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with angel chick number one, and he turned back around to glare at her some more.

"In a manner of speaking." She shook her head and looked away. "If we're all finished discussing how to trap my brother?" Sam nodded. "Good. Sam, if you will excuse us, I need to speak with your brother for a moment." Azrael looked at Dean, "Outside." She turned and went outside, leaving the door open in a silent command for Dean to follow her.

Sam sat down at the table and opened his laptop, frowning. Clearly, something had passed between the two of them. He doubted it had anything to do with Michael or Azrael would probably have just said it, rather than pulling Dean off to one side. Still lost in thought, Sam began to review their list of angel-proofing symbols to find the ones that would trap Michael but could be positioned in a way that would still allow Azrael to use her own power against him. Every so often, he looked at the door, trying to guess what could be important enough and private enough that the angel would not be willing to say it in front of him.

Dean followed her out, certain now that whatever she had to say, he wouldn't want to hear it. However he'd always believed it was better to just rip a bandaid off, so he looked at her and frowned. "Well, we're out here. You gonna tell me what's on your mind? Because I'm about certain that it's nothing good."

Azrael nodded. She could appreciate his concern and being open would make this easier for everyone involved. "What did my brother do to you?" She asked bluntly. "I know what Castiel did to Sam. It's what got me into this mess in the first place. But I don't know how he hurt you." Even now, she could see the weight bearing down on him, emblazoned with her brother's name.

Looking at her as if she had just stated the obvious and still missed it, he shook his head and frowned. "He broke my brother's brain, Az. He went in there and just broke it, not a thought about what he was doing or how it would affect Sam, me." For as often as they fought, Sam was all Dean had left and he would never abide people hurting him.

"Not to mention he tried to be god, refused to let us help him." He clammed up and looked away.

Azrael opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Az?" Then she shook her head convulsively, as if dislodging a fly. "Moving on. You're... Dean... I know what my brother did and I understand that would make you angry. But what I saw... It's the sign of something much deeper than anger or betrayal on their own." She frowned, absently rubbing the ring on her left hand. "If... I'll let you think this over. But I asked because... As much as you may be an obnoxious, unsubtle, ass... I have to admit" she made a face as if she had just swallowed gasoline "you aren't all bad. And besides, I need you functioning."

Whatever openness Dean had been working towards was suddenly thrown away as he glared at her. "I don't care what you think you saw, got it? I've got one family to protect, and I was an idiot to let Cas in as much as I did, and he nearly cost me the last person I have left. And don't worry about me being functional, I've lived through worse than losing a friend. So just... cram it, and let's get this over with." He already didn't like the plan, so having to listen to her talk about feelings was more than he was willing to put up with.

Her expression went cold and she crossed her arms, giving Dean a once-over. She kept her eyes firmly on the physical, ordering himself to ignore the dark wounds torn into his soul. "Then let's go kill my brother, shall we?" With that, she tugged open the door to the motel hard enough that one of the hinges broke. Then she stalked into the cramped room.

Sam looked up, eyes immediately going to his brother's face. The look he sent Dean asked"how are you?" and "what happened out there?". He had not been able to hear any of what they were speaking about from his chair, but judging by Dean's face and the broken motel door, it had not gone well by any stretch of the imagination.

"Yeah..." Dean replied, no joy in his voice at what they would have to do. He had been on this crazy rodeo before, and he had no doubt that it wasn't going to be easy; by this point he was just praying that Sam or him wouldn't have to pay the price, again. As he walked inside and saw Sam's concern for him, written so plainly in his gaze, he shook his head. Talking about his emotions wasn't something he did on a good day, and so far today wasn't shaping up to be anything close to that. However he gave Sam a brief nod that assured him he was fine and it wasn't important enough for Sam to try and whittle information out of him. "Well, let's get this show on the road. Ready Sammy?"

Sam pressed his lips together in a thin line, but stood anyway and started arming himself out of habit. He ignored Azrael's raised eyebrow as he strapped a gun to his hip. Even if it wouldn't hurt Michael, he felt better carrying it. Besides, it was more realistic. He would never go on a hunt, or even a clean-up, unarmed.

He took a deep breath, patted the reassuring bulge of the hex bag in his jacket pocket, and walked out the door. The archangel followed him, slipping easily into the back seat. "You know you're going to have to leave that in the car if you want Michael to be able to find you. And send up some sort of signal. I'm guessing that you two still have Castiel's graffiti scratched into your ribs?" Sam nodded and sank back in the passenger seat, closing his eyes.

Dean slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. No music played as the drove back to the caves. The only sounds were the clinking of the cans of spray paint and the tires rolling over the gravel road. In the back seat, Azrael gripped the scythe until her knuckles whent white. After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped in the same lot they had parked in when hunting the Androphagi. Sam took a deep breath, set the hex bag on the dashboard, and got out of the Impala.

"Alright. Let's go."

Dean grumbled a little from his spot behind the wheel, not liking having the angel inside the car, but not having another option at the moment. Now she was telling him to leave Baby? Well, okay, that might be a good idea just because he didn't want another renegade archangel around her anytime soon. He was still mildly amazed that she hadn't gotten hurt with the confrontation at Calgary. "Yeah, got it, we'll come up with something." Why was she riding with them? Damn angels.

After a few minutes of wracking his brain in silence, he realized that he really didn't have anything in mind for a signal. "Got any suggestions?" he asked, voice making it all too clear that one wrong word from her and he'd... well he'd find a way to gank her ass or something. He was in no mood for any of this.

Sam gave his brother a look that was mixture of chosen and annoyance. On the one hand, he knew that none of this could possibly be easy for Dean. In the other, Sam had to wish that he would stop deliberately pissing off the person who had nearly crushed his skull earlier that day. Judging by the look on Azrael's face, she was about ready to just destroy the symbols and take his ribs with them.

"Um..." He interjected quickly. "I do have an idea." Sam's stomach twisted and rolled unpleasantly at the thought of what he was about to suggest. "Once I got the symbols in place, I could... I could try praying. Not- not like I would normally," with Lucifer, "but just to let him know where I am." He wished he hadn't suggested it. The mere idea of praying to Michael after what he had done was making him sick. And it felt like a betrayal to Lucifer, even if the prayer was unwilling offered and meant to lure Michael into a trap. Still, Azrael looked pleased with idea. Sam got the spray paint out of the glove compartment with a sigh.

The three of them walked to the caves where they had seen the androphagi without speaking. Azrael's steps were soundless, Sam and Dean's nearly so. The Archangel hung back as Sam entered the cave, spray-paint in hand. He drew the symbols first, shoulders tense, his free hand squeezed into a tight fist. He could taste bile in the back of his throat as he worked, marking out lines of Enochian specifically tailored to bind and limit Michael's power. Azrael watched carefully. When she was satisfied, she moved farther away, shielding herself to hide her presence as well as she could. Michael would have to be looking for in particular to find her.

In the end, Sam did not even have to pray. He had barely finished the last symbol when the cave filled with brilliant, white light. The spray-paint fell from his hand and he brought an arm up to cover his eyes. A moment later, the light coalesced and he raised his head. Michael stood a few feet away, wearing his father's younger face. The archangel took a slow, deliberate step toward him, a golden sword- a true sword- materializing in his hand.

A second flash of light heralded Azrael's arrival. Death's scythe rested easily in her hand. Sam got out of her way as quickly as he could just as Dean ran toward the mouth of the cave, yelling for his brother to get over here right now. Behind him, Sam heard the screech of metal on metal, then the clang of metal striking stone. When he turned, Azrael stood unarmed before her brother, her open hand extended toward where the scythe lay on the floor of the cave. Then Michael swung at her and the blade bit deep into her side, parting skin, muscle, and ribs before striking her left lung.

Azrael screamed, her true voice breaking through. Dean and Sam clapped their hands over their ears. She stumbled backwards and fell as her brother jerked the sword free. Purple-white light spilled from the wound, illuminating the entire clearing and scorching away the paint. She pressed both hands to the wound and glared up at her brother, unable to stand.

The two brothers moved without any verbal signal from either of them. Sam collected the scythe from where it lay forgotten by both archangels. Dean slid both arms under Azrael. She moved one hand to his jacket sleeve and grabbed Sam as he ran by with the other. Then light flared again. When it faded, they were by the impala back in the parking lot.

"Go, go, go!" Sam yelled, yanking the driver's door open. Dean threw himself into the back seat, pulling Azrael with him and ignoring her cry of pain. She had her hands over her wound again, trying to hold her Grace inside of her vessel. Sam gunned the engine and they tore away from the woods, leaving Michael behind them and either unable to track their movements or not concerned enough to follow them at the present time.

Azrael whined, her voice ringing in the boys' ears several octaves above the normal human range. Dean winched and covered his ears.

"How's she going back there?" Sam asked, peering into the rearview mirror.

"Not good. I don't know how she's still alive."

"Death is my job." She hissed. Then the archangel pressed her lips together, closing her eyes tightly. Less Grace was seeping from the wound in her side now, but she looked gray. When the impala stopped in front of the motel, she winced, pressing her hands harder against the gash. Dean lifted her out of the car, one arm under her shoulders and the other supporting her legs. She opened her eyes slowly and her mouth twitched in an attempt at a smirk.

"If you ever mention this again..." Azrael paused, taking a slow, ragged breath, "...I will smite that perky ass of yours."

"You're welcome."

Sam tugged the door open, letting Dean carry her in before entering the room himself and locking the door behind them. "I'll get started with the angel sigils." He grabbed a can of spray paint off the table and opened it. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

She looked up at him from the couch Dean had lowered her onto. "Angel wards... they'll slow down my healing by... a lot." Azrael grimaced and swallowed hard as if trying not to vomit. "Need more power... that isn't angelic. Dean."

For a moment, the hunter did not react. When he did, it was to take three rapid steps backwards. "Hell no. I'm Michael's vessel. Won't even work for you."

Sam almost dropped the can of paint. The first thought that entered his mind was that Dean had been right, mostly, and that Azrael was going to betray them. The entire incident with Michael had been staged and she was going to deliver Dean to her brother so he could be held captive until he agreed to be used as a meat suit. That train of thought stopped when he saw Azrael shake her head.

"No. Soul, Dean. Need to borrow a bit of energy. Or I won't heal for a while.." She held out her hand, fingers extended.

Slowly, Dean stepped toward her, pulling off his jacket. Sam moved to stop him and Azrael shook her head again.

"It has to be Dean. I don't need Michael and Lucifer angry with me. Using you as bair... bad enough as is." She turned her head toward Dean, giving him a dry smile. "Don't worry. I have practice with this. It's just going to sting a bit."

Dean laughed weakly and knelt beside the couch, gripping the arm of the couch by Azrael's head. She pressed her palm against the center of his chest, then pushed harder. Light shone out around her hand, casting the now-sunken features of her face into sharp relief.. Dean's jaw dropped open in a silent scream and his hand clenched so hard on the upholstery that it tore. His throat went tight as he forced himself to stay silent and his face turned a brilliant shade of red. Slowly, the gash in Azrael's side healed. She released her hold on him, going limp on the cushions. Dean fell forward, just barely catching himself before he collapsed on top of her. Sam was by his side in a moment, helping him over to the bed Dean had claimed.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Azrael nodded and slowly, carefully pushed herself upright. "Yes, Sam. He's going to be fine. So will I, thank you for asking."

"You almost got us killed!"

"I saved both your lives." She retorted, standing and walking slowly into the bathroom, picking at her torn and filthy shirt.

Sam was about to retort when the logic of her statement sunk in. Sure, what she'd done had put him and his brother directly in the path of a truly pissed off Archangel bent on revenge against them in particular. But Michael would have attacked them anyway. Without Azrael, they would have been taken easily.

He sighed and sat on the other bed. Dean had fallen into a heavy sleep and was snoring in his peaceful, rumbling-like-an-engine way. He didn't know how much power it took to heal an Archangel who had been stabbed- slashed?- by her brother, but it was clearly a lot. And that brought him to their main problem. Even with everything they'd done, they still didn't have half a chance of defeating Michael. Azrael didn't have the juice to fight him again, and he'd beaten her. Quickly. There was no one here who could fight him and win. They were out of options.

A tickle in the back of his mind caught his attention. Immediately, he turned his attention to it, closing his eyes.

"Sam."

"Lucifer." He whispered.

"Did my brother hurt you?"

He shook his head. "He hurt Azrael, but Dean helped her heal herself. I don't know what we're going to do now. Is there another Archangel we can go to?"

There was a long, echoing silence before Lucifer spoke again. "Free me."

"What?!" Sam stiffened, his eyes flying open.

Dean would never let that happen and he couldn't justify it. His brother would see it as a ploy to get Sam to be his meatsuit again and if he really did ask Sam to be his vessel again, what the hell was he supposed to say? Saying no before hadn't been easy, but then he hadn't cared that his answer would hurt Lucifer. But he couldn't say Yes. As much as he cared about him, and as good as it had felt to be whole for the first time in his life, he couldn't surrender control of his body again.

He could feel Lucifer's hurt rolling off of him like fog and he sighed.

"If you heard all of that... You understand, don't you? I can't do it. It's not that I don't trust you. It's that it would to bring back some really bad memories if I told you I'd be your vessel again. I'm sorry."

There was another pause. For a moment, Sam thought that Lucifer had turned away and left him alone again.

"If you found someone else- not another innocent, Sam. I wouldn't ask that of you with your bleeding heart. Ask my sister if she can raise Nick."

"You were burning through him last time."

"There's a way around that, if you're willing. It doesn't involve you being my vessel, so there's no need to worry."

Sam looked down at his hands. "I need to ask Dean. And he's asleep right now."

"We couldn't possibly wake Dean."

He sighed and closed his eyes again. "I'll see you again tonight, okay? We'll talk then and figure something out. We've gotten through this before, after all."