"Cas!"
Welcome back, Dean.
The familiar gravel of the angel's voice was as dry as ever, but Dean could feel the warmth of Castiel's emotions, pride and relief tinged with a deep sense of resignation. Their skyward spiral was erratic, no longer the smooth, strong, joyous flight he'd always taken for granted when the angel was in control of their shared body, and Dean's view of the moon riding over the harbor was strangely skewed, half in sharp focus and half a blur.
They were bleeding from a dozen or more cuts, Dean realized then. The worst had gouged his right eye out of its socket, leaving the mangled orb dangling on his cheekbone. He assessed the wounds clinically, knowing Cas was shielding him from the pain. Lucifer hadn't spared their wings, either. Dean didn't have to see them to know they'd been battered and torn, many of the essential flight feathers hacked off. Knowing how sensitive angel wings could be, he couldn't begin to imagine the agony Cas was enduring right now.
I am glad I was able to reach you, Dean. I did not want either of us to have to die alone.
"Nobody's going to die, Cas," Dean growled, defiant. "Not tonight."
"Oh, the little hairless ape is back." Lucifer appeared in Dean's field of vision, his white suit spattered with blood.
Dean would have taunted the archangel about his less-than-pristine appearance if the stains hadn't all been from his own blood. Castiel raised his sword doggedly to parry Lucifer's attack and Dean caught a hint of the angel's pain and exhaustion. It wouldn't be long before Lucifer tired of toying with them. He looked across the clashing, silvery blades to meet the devil's cold, hazel eyes… Sam's eyes, but without a trace of warmth in them, not the slightest glimpse of his brother in sight. What lies was Lucifer telling Sam right now? What illusion was his brother trapped inside?
Sam...Dean tapped into a portion of Cas's grace and aimed it—he hoped—directly into his brother's mind, harnessing that angelic power, but with a human voice. Sammy, I'm here for you. Just fight him, Sam, just for a second, that's all I need. You can do it.
Lucifer's eyes widened and his sword dipped, less than a hair's breadth, but it was enough for Castiel to press his attack, the razor-sharp tip of his blade coming within an inch of Lucifer's shoulder. He parried, but it was urgent, barely in time to stop Castiel's sword from slicing open his blood-stained white jacket, not the negligent swordplay the archangel had been using to toy with the seraph.
The Morning Star recovered almost immediately, raising his blade for a killing blow, but Dean took control from Cas, slipped a knife out of his boot, and stabbed it into the meat of Sam's thigh. Dean saw the devil's face twist in shock and rage, but only for an instant. Then Lucifer's beautiful white wings collapsed in on themselves, ceasing to exist, and Sam plummeted.
Castiel took over, tucking his damaged wings in tight to his body, swooping after Sam as he fell. Dean caught a fleeting glimpse of his brother's dazed hazel eyes and then he was gripping Sam tight, cradling him in his arms as Castiel carried them away with labored beats of his wings. Behind them a piercing, inhuman shriek tore through the night and a hundred billows of black, demonic smoke rose up around the ruins of the hotel as Lucifer's entourage took flight.
"Drive, Mikey!" Dean panted as Cas transported them straight through the roof of the ambulance. Amelia's eyes were wide as he appeared in front of her, dumping Sam unceremoniously on the gurney. He batted her hands away as she moved to help him. "Take care of Sam! Remember, I've got angel mojo," he barked, although just how much of his grace Cas could spare for healing right now, Dean didn't know. He didn't care. Right now, his only concern was for Sam. He dropped down on the long bench seat as Mikey took a corner at high speed and Amelia braced herself, calmly buckling the straps to secure Sam to the gurney.
"Pulse and respiration are steady," she announced, "and this wound on his thigh is minor—"
"Of course it's minor," Dean groused. "I'm a professional. Cas?"
I am here, Dean. The angel's voice in his mind was strained. It will take some time for me to heal our wounds.
"Take all the time you need. You were awesome back there."
Amelia passed him a gauze pad. "Cover your eyes," she said shortly. Lightning flashed and with a deep roll of thunder it started to rain.
The ambulance rocked and swayed as Mikey steered around burnt-out cars and other debris that littered the road out of Boca Raton. Dean could feel the reaction setting in, blood loss and shock mingled with the elation of having his brother back. They weren't out of this yet, he reminded himself, and steeled himself to remain calm and alert in case the Morning Star had a trick up his white linen sleeve. He leaned over and took Sam's hand in his, holding the bandage over his damaged eye with his other hand. "You did it, Sammy. I knew you could. How's he doing, Doc?"
"Stable," Amelia said. "He's been through a lot." She glanced up. "Cover both eyes, Dean. If you keep looking around you're just going to make it worse."
Humor her, Cas's voice spoke up in his mind. Your brother just needs time.
"Shit," Mikey cursed and the ambulance slowed to a crawl. The rain was coming down in torrents, the rapid slap of the windshield wipers almost drowned out by thunder. "It's coming down so heavy I can't see past the hood," he complained.
"Lucifer's throwing a temper tantrum," Dean said with satisfaction. "Might as well take a break, Mikey."
"Good," Amelia said briskly, coming around the gurney to sit down on the bench next to Dean. "I can't stitch you up while we're swerving all over the road anyway." The veterinarian produced a plastic shield which she taped over his injured eye.
"Hey," Dean protested as she started to wrap layers of gauze bandage over his good eye, too.
"I told you," Amelia said firmly, "if you keep trying to use that eye it's just going to make it worse. And no offense to Cas, but it looks like you're temporarily out of 'mojo'."
Even without his sight, Dean's mind still projected a mental image of Cas sitting next to him. He could feel the trenchcoat-clad body leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder. Dean could sense the angel's exhaustion. Dean had been trapped in Lucifer's illusion for only a few minutes, but inside that illusion it had seemed like weeks, and Cas, he realized now, had suffered every second of his mental absence as a real, physical separation. The angel had been utterly alone as Lucifer had toyed with him, hacking him to pieces bit by bit.
"Yeah, Lucifer drained Cas's battery," he told Amelia wryly as he sent a wave of gratitude and reassurance Cas's way. You did it, Cas. You held on, got me back… We got Sam back.
"When's he going to come to, Doc?"
After a nearly 36 hour drive back from Boca Raton, they were in Camp Chitaqua's makeshift infirmary. Dean hadn't left Sam's side for more than a minute, but his brother remained unresponsive.
"I wish I knew." Amelia's expression was worried as she checked Sam's vital signs for what seemed to Dean like the hundredth time.
Dean watched her, trying hard to suppress his own concern as he waited impatiently. Cas had recovered, healing their wounds, but, like the veterinarian, he couldn't offer a reason for Sam's condition.
"Cas? A little help, here?" In spite of his resolve, Dean's voice was hoarse with worry. He felt the angel extend his senses and tried to follow along. "You've got to figure out what's wrong with him!"
There is something I can try, but it will be very painful for Sam, Cas warned, taking control and releasing Sam's hand from Dean's grasp. He laid Dean's hand on Sam's chest.
Dean jerked in surprise as his hand sank through Sam's rib cage and into his brother's chest, but Castiel was already pulling back, recoiling from whatever he had just discovered.
"What is that?" Dean could feel the angel's distress, his nausea and disgust. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel something oily coating his fingertips.
Lucifer's grace, Cas said. He left a portion of it inside Sam. Dean, it's... It's poison. And it's wrapped around his soul.
In his mind's eye Dean saw the angel standing next to him at Sam's bedside. Castiel's face was even paler than usual, his forehead beaded with sweat. "Well, get it out of him," he demanded.
Castiel reached into Sam's chest again, but the motion was tentative, and he flinched away when Sam's body bucked against the invasion. Sam let out a low moan of pain.
"Come on, Cas!"
I can't, Dean. Castiel's face was twisted with horror and revulsion. The grace… It's foul, toxic from Lucifer's eons of rebellion. I can't bear to touch it—can't extract it without hurting Sam.
"Then help me do it." Dean reached out mentally, extending his senses into Castiel's much greater consciousness. He placed his hand on Sam's chest, letting it sink beneath the skin and muscle until his fingers brushed against something warm and fragile yet resilient, too. It clung to his fingers like cobweb. "Is that..?"
Your brother's soul, Castiel told him.
Sam thrashed weakly, his breath coming in thready gasps, and Dean ran his fingers quickly over the gossamer of Sam's soul, his stomach giving a protesting lurch as they brushed against the tainted grace wrapped around it. It was oily, slipping through his fingers when he tried to grasp it, making his stomach churn and his muscles clench in disgust at the foul taint of it.
"I've got this," he reassured Castiel. "Time to take out the trash." It was as if his every memory of hell had been concentrated, distilled into one vile essence. Dean felt bile rise in his throat and a rush of saliva flooded his mouth, making him gag as he tugged the toxic grace loose. Amelia, who had been watching the proceedings in disbelief, ran to grab a basin, no doubt expecting him to throw up at any second. Dean wasn't so sure he wouldn't do just that. Beside him, his mental projection of Cas looked positively green. Finally he got the slimy substance wrapped around his fingers and pulled his hand free of Sam's chest. His brother fell back on the bed, gasping, but in a moment his breathing seemed to ease.
"What do I do with it?" Dean asked helplessly. He envisioned Castiel standing next to him, looking absolutely sickened by the handful of foul muck, but the angel resolutely reached for it with two fingers outstretched. With a blaze of white light, Castiel incinerated Lucifer's tainted grace with the light and heat of his own, pure celestial power. Dean sagged against the hospital bed rail, taking careful, shallow breaths until the urge to vomit passed.
He is resting easily now, Castiel told him.
"He can rest after the reunion. Come on, Sammy, rise and shine." Too impatient to accept another minute's delay, Dean ruffled his brother's hair and patted his cheek, trying to rouse him.
Hazel eyes blinked open sleepily, then widened in recognition. "Dea'?" Sam slurred.
Dean felt his own eyes fill with tears. They'd really done it. They'd gotten his brother back. He leaned over the railing and pulled Sam into a fierce hug. "Yeah, it's really me, Sam. You did it! You kicked the bastard out."
Sam laid an arm clumsily over his shoulders, a gesture that could have been either an attempt to return Dean's hug or to push him away. When Dean let him go, easing him back onto the pillows, he saw that one corner of Sam's mouth turned down, slack, and one of his eyelids drooped. He was about to question Amelia about it when Castiel spoke up in his mind.
He is doing remarkably well, all things considered. Remember Donnie Finnerman.
"Donnie Finnerman?" Dean shook his head. "Should I remember Donnie Finnerman?"
Raphael's vessel, Castiel supplied. Raphael left him in a catatonic state when—
"You're not m' brother!" Sam broke in, wild-eyed.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean was quick to reassure him. "It's just Cas—"
"No!" Sam pulled away, one hand fumbling at his side as if searching for a weapon.
"It's not like you think," Dean tried to explain. "Cas and I—"
"No!"
Amelia stepped in from the other side of the bed, laying a reassuring hand on Sam's arm. "You're safe here, Sam. No one is going to hurt you," she said calmly.
Dean remembered the time he'd spent as a mental patient in Lucifer's illusory sanitarium, his fear and mistrust whenever Sam had visited him with the archangel Lucifer sharing his body. He could imagine all too clearly how Sam must feel at this moment, knowing his brother was now Castiel's vessel.
Cas, you're going to have to vacate for a while, he told the angel silently.
He just needs time to recover, Castiel argued. He'll calm down and listen to reason once he's rested.
Dean could sense Cas's hurt, but ignored it, reasoning that his brother was hurting worse. I just need some time alone with Sam.
...Of course. Your brother comes first. With an aggrieved rustle of feathers, Castiel was gone.
Author's note: I am just blown away by the kind words of my reviewers. You are all the best and I can't thank you enough. Heartfelt thanks to OneCutePug, RunYouCleverBoyAndRememberMe, Snailhair101, nanianela, Zana Zira, Fallen-Angel-Spirit, MadWithMusic, Samey Winchester, and wisepuma23. Seriously, I appreciate you all so very much.
One more bombastic chapter (because, yanno, it's not a good idea to hurt the tender feelings of the angel who's just risked his life for your big dumb moose of a brother, LOL) and this fic is finished. I will post a teaser for the sequel immediately after because I'm a masochist like that. (Tentative title Dean, Cas, and Sam are Awesome and Save the World so PLEASE feel free to suggest something less lame... Anything will be less lame.) Long weekend thanks to Memorial Day and my dentist appointment tomorrow, so if this root canal doesn't kill me expect an update soon. MWAH!