Chapter Forty-Nine "Count the Cost"
Everything was wrong. Castiel had been feeling it for the past few hours, and it was more than Crowley's irritating presence or the strange feeling that had been floating around. No, something was wrong with Dean. After they had shared a consciousness for that brief period, Castiel could sense more of Dean than he had always been able to. When Dean was happy, like he had been after they saved Emma, Castiel could feel it. And when Dean was sad or scared or hurt, Castiel could feel that too. In the past few hours, it had been all of the above.
Castiel turned his phone over in his hands. He had been thinking about calling ever since he started to feel that first spike of adrenaline. But if Dean needed help, he only had to call. He must have been handling whatever it was on his own. Castiel still sat at the kitchen table staring at his phone.
He was brought out of his thoughts when Meg entered the room with an exasperated sigh.
"If you're gonna call him, just do it. Otherwise, stop worrying," she said.
"He might be in trouble," Castiel replied, "but I don't know why he wouldn't call me if he were."
"Maybe he doesn't need you this time." Meg sat down across from Castiel. "That's not a bad thing."
"No, but I can tell something is wrong. Very wrong."
"But you don't want to swoop in and save the day because?"
"If he wanted my help, he would call."
Meg nodded in realization. "Oh, so it's not about whether he needs you or not. You just want him to want you there."
"No, I—Why wouldn't he want me there?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to bother you."
"He always bothers me. Why should that change?"
"I can think of a few reasons: guilt, awkwardness, me..."
"You?"
"He's not my biggest fan, but he brought me back because of you. Maybe he's giving us space."
"I don't think Dean does that."
"Okay, but does he actually make sense to you? I mean, you know him better than anybody—can you say he always has a logical reason for what he does?"
Castiel shook his head. "Dean is rarely logical, but he does have reasons for his decisions. Though sometimes he doesn't even understand them."
"Then why should you? Maybe he's just being a tough guy like usual."
Castiel reached across the table and brushed his fingers across the back of Meg's hand. "I've always tried to protect him," he said.
Meg smirked. "You'd think nearly dying for him multiple times would be enough."
"Enough..." Castiel turned the word over in his mind. "I don't think there is any such thing. No matter how many times you bleed for family... you're always going to do it again."
"Then I guess you can understand."
"What?"
"How I feel."
Castiel stared at Meg as he realized what she was saying. He held her hand tighter and looked her in the eye. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "But I'm never going to let that happen again."
"What are we going to do with our guest then?"
Castiel shrugged. "We could kill him. Dean wouldn't have to know."
Meg smiled. "I do love it when you plot murder."
~oOo~
All customary precision was ignored as Dean pulled into the garage, tires screeching to a halt.
"I offered to drive," Sam said irritably as they got out of the car.
"Shut up," Dean replied, mostly meaning it.
Dean immediately went to the back seat to get Benny out. He was still sort of muttering but only half conscious. Emma came out after him.
"I think he's getting worse," she said.
"Let's get him inside," Dean said.
Dean didn't really pay attention to the fact that Sam lagged behind, collecting their bags and closing up the car. Dean was too focused on trying to break through whatever barrier was keeping him out of Benny's mind. A persistent burning pain had settled in behind his eyes, and he tried to pretend it wasn't there. He didn't have time to be tired.
When they reached Benny's room, Lenore was sitting on the bed reading. She jumped up when they came in and dropped her book on the floor. Her gaze immediately passed over Dean's bloodstained clothing to Benny's condition.
"What happened?" she asked, rushing over. "What's wrong with him?"
"Let's lay him down first," Emma suggested.
Lenore nodded and quickly adjusted the pillows for Benny. Dean and Emma laid Benny on the bed. It almost looked as if he were sleeping.
"He's not injured," Lenore said, perplexed.
Dean let out a sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. "We ran into the first generation whose arm he cut off a while back. Apparently his freaky mind control powers were better than mine."
"Were?"
"Well, I'm still better at killing vampires."
Lenore crossed her arms nervously. "That still doesn't explain what's wrong with Benny."
"The guy got in his head and screwed with something. I've been working on it."
"And?"
"So far, Louis Armstrong is better at it than I am."
Lenore was quiet for a moment. "What song?"
"Does it matter?"
"A lot."
"Something French about a rose."
"La vie en Rose."
"He really likes that song?"
"I really like that song."
Dean actually started to feel hopeful after hearing that. "Then he's still in there somewhere.I just gotta figure out how to get to him."
Lenore gave Dean a long, critical look. "When is the last time you slept?"
"I don't have time for—"
"You can't afford not to, Dean. This is a mental thing, not something you can just power through but hitting it enough times."
There was no way to argue. Lenore was usually right anyway, and Dean didn't have the energy to come up with excuses. But that didn't mean he couldn't get other working on a solution.
"Okay," he said. "You keep an eye on him then. Emma?" Dean looked over at his daughter.
"Yeah?" she replied.
"See if anyone's made progress on that vampire tablet. And maybe send Cas over here if you see him. He might be able to pick up some vibes or use his healing power to help. It's worth a try."
Emma nodded and left the room without a word.
"And you get some sleep," Lenore said as she picked up her book and sat down beside Benny. "I won't take my eyes off him."
~oOo~
Sam had finished cleaning the weapons and was about to start on the laundry when he remembered that Dean was still wearing his jeans which were now soaked in blood. It felt strangely like a flashback to his childhood—and he didn't feel too bad about that.
As he left the laundry room to find Dean, Sam realized how tired he was. It was after midnight, and he had been up since just after dawn following a rather short night. There wasn't much he could do about Benny or the end of the world, so he decided to finish the laundry and go to bed.
When Sam got to Dean's room, he was surprised to find his brother sleeping. He almost sneaked back out of the room when he noticed Dean's dirty clothes tossed over the chair near the door. Sam grabbed them and backed out of the room. Dean stirred slightly but didn't wake. Sam considered that an achievement.
Back in the hallway, Sam felt a sudden chill. His first thought was Kevin, but the prophet was nowhere to be seen. He figured he was just tired and headed off to the laundry room. But as he navigated the ancient washing machine, he couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe Kevin was lurking again, but even knowing that didn't make Sam feel any better. By the time he had gotten the laundry going and returned to his room, the chill was gone. Sam managed to stay on his feet long enough to change his clothes before falling into bed and a fitful sleep.
He dreamed he was being eaten alive by vampires, but they never consumed him; his blood never ran out. This went on for a while until Sam was actually bored of it. The monotonous horror ended when a cool touch pulled Sam out of the midst of the vampires. He flew up into the sky, and black clouds gathered around him. Howling winds and thunder filled his ears. Someone held his hand, and Sam turned to see his mother beside him as the hurricane raged around them. She smiled sadly and trailed her icy fingers along the side of his face.
"You can never die," she said. "They aren't strong enough to hurt you."
"What do you mean?"
She looked worried. "Keep your eyes open, Sam. It's never over. They never stop biting."
"I know. I don't feel it anymore."
Mary touched Sam's shoulder, and where her hand rested began to glow with an orange light.
"Don't be afraid to use it," she said.
Sam jerked awake before he even realized he was dreaming. Emma was standing at the end of his bed holding a laundry basket full of Sam's clothes.
"Dreams?" she asked. "I guess that's common. What was yours about?"
Sam swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. "I really don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, right. Was it really bad?"
"Just weird." Sam got up and took the basket from Emma. "Thanks."
She nodded. "Charlie showed me how to use the machines. I think most of the blood came out."
Sam looked at the clock. It was seven in the morning. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked as he sorted through his clothes.
"I've been busy," Emma replied. "There's a lot to do. Benny's still semi-conscious. Dean is sleeping. Oh, and that demon guy was here, but Castiel convinced him to go away and come back later. There may have been death threats involved."
"Demon guy—Crowley?"
"Yeah. British, obnoxious."
"That about sums him up."
"Is anything not going crazy right now?"
"Jody threatened to lock Annie in the dungeon if she didn't stay put. Jody went to get groceries or kill a vampire or maybe both; I don't remember."
"So, that would be a no?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Guess that means all is right with the world."
"How is that—oh, of course. If something isn't going wrong, one must be suspicious."
"Yeah."
"You know, I have dreams too. It doesn't make sense because we know they're not real, but really bad stuff happens for real, so it's not that much different."
"I don't know. I think seeing my mom again is pretty far-fetched."
"Your mom? You don't talk about her. Was she nice?"
"I was six months old when she died."
"Human aging confounds me."
"Not walking, talking, and killing things."
Emma flinched. "I'm going to have breakfast," she said and turned to leave.
Sam realized too late that he had made a mistake. Emma was already halfway down the hall when he thought that bringing up her origins might not be the greatest idea.
He sighed and finished putting his clothes away. This was just one more thing to add to the list of all that was going wrong.
~oOo~
It was later than Dean expected when he woke. The past six hours or so were a strange blank space in his mind with no dreams or tossing. This was made all the more unusual when Dean noticed that someone came in and picked up his clothes. Sam—Dean could smell him.
More importantly, though, Dean was thirsty. As soon as he got dressed, he headed for the kitchen. Emma and Charlie were there eating cereal. A strange urge rose up in Dean to turn around and go back to his room. The thought of drinking blood in front of people was almost worse than going without. Almost. Dean decided if he acted like it was normal, maybe no one would say anything.
Charlie wished him a good morning as he came into the room. Emma didn't even look up, which didn't seem right, but Dean was too concerned with keeping his cool about the blood thing. He went to the refrigerator and reached to the back where the angel stuff was kept. He looked at the bag in his hand and knew it would be weird to drink it like that. He remembered after the nest in Illinois, Cas had put it in a glass. Maybe that made it less creepy.
Once Dean had his glass of blood, he still stood beside the counter instead of sitting at the table. No need to make anyone lose their appetite. An awkward silence ensued, and Dean regretted his decision to get out of bed this morning. Everything just went downhill when Cas came into the room looking to be in the worst mood Dean had ever seen.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked tersely. "Now?"
Dean's last drink of blood felt like lead on his tongue, and for a second, he forgot how to swallow. "Uh, sure," he said hesitantly, setting his glass in the sink.
Dean followed Cas out into the hallway, and he could feel waves of irritation and frustration coming off the angel.
"I checked on Benny like you wanted," he said. "And there's not much I can do. Angels and vampires don't have much in common—except you."
"You didn't bring me out here to tell me that."
"No." Cas got a stern look in his eyes. "First, about Crowley."
"What about him?" Dean didn't like where this was headed.
Cas voice got deeper, if that were possible. "How could you make a deal with him to bring Meg back? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Honestly?" Dean said. "There was never a good time. You were kind of dying, and then things got busy and—"
"You knew I wouldn't have wanted it. And if you think your deal only affects you—"
"I don't. I know what it means. But Crowley's not going away, so it's better to have him on our side."
"That sounds exactly like what he said." Cas' eyes almost seemed to darken.
Dean shrugged. "Well, he's not wrong."
"Dean."
"I know. This isn't how I wanted things to go, but no one has ever accused me of thinking clearly most of the time."
"Does that make it better?" Cas tilted his head. "Is making rash decisions a mark of good judgement to you?"
"No one's ever accused me of that either, but no. I'm not saying it was right; I just don't know what I'd do differently."
"You know this will have consequences for everyone?"
Dean nodded. "I'll do my best to keep it all on me, but sometimes..."
"You can't save everyone. Which brings me to my second point."
"You have points?"
"Just the two. Why didn't you call me for help when you fought against the first generation?"
"I was a little busy hacking him to pieces."
"You know all it takes is a thought."
"Yeah, and my thoughts were occupied trying to get him out of Benny's head."
"There's more to this, Dean. I know there must be."
"I had it under control."
"But you didn't need to. I could feel your fear. I could have helped you."
Dean didn't meet Cas' gaze. "Haven't you given enough?" he asked.
Cas shook his head. "You don't understand," he said. "I'll always give more. No matter how stupid you are."
Dean knew that. He didn't like that Cas felt like he had to say it. He didn't want that from anyone.
"We got a lot of work to do right now," Dean said, trying to regain some control over something.
"I know," Cas agreed. "We need to find a way to bring Benny back. Any ideas?"
Dean sighed. "I was hoping you might have something."
It's still Saturday! I wrote all this in a notebook while I was house sitting and just typed it up. Anyway, happy one year anniversary. I hope you like this extra chapter.
