Hey Oddballs! Yep, back with another chapter! I couldn't leave you all hanging in the lurch like that for long.
Chapter 51: Back With Dean and Mike
Raphael felt Bobby Singer drop to the floor beside him. "Raphael?" he asked in a strong yet gentle voice. "You two should go to my place. Can you make it there, or do I need to drive?"
"Sam?" he pleaded with Dean's brother, ignoring Singer. "Fix this."
When wetness coursed down Sam's cheeks, Raphael recognized what it was. Those were tears. It explained why his eyes burned and his cheeks were wet. He was crying too. He wept for Michael. He wept for Mike.
"Go to Bobby's," Sam said in a strained voice. "I'm sure when they fix whatever's wrong with Dean, Mike will be fine."
Raphael risked locking gazes with Sam. "It is real, isn't it?"
Sam gave him a single, short nod. Raphael buried his face, and the fresh tears, in Mike's shoulder. Comforting hands rubbed his shoulders, but he did not want comfort. He wanted his friend, whole and well. Raphael moved them to Singer's home, where they could wait alone. He laid Mike out on the couch, where his friend had recuperated from the last attack. Raphael sat on the floor, his head resting against Mike's side with his eyes closed.
"You just had to bond with a human, didn't you?" he whispered to his unconscious friend. Ralph began to pray in a slow, soft voice. In prayer volume was not a factor, only Faith, Hope and Love. He hoped he possessed enough of at least one for his prayer to be heard.
So far, he really hated this millennium.
Bobby plopped down in a visitor's chair. "Hope my house is still there when I go home."
Sam noticed Bobby's focus was on Dean, so he suspected this was a way of dancing around the real topic.
"Probably will be," Sam replied as he slumped down in another chair. "I wonder where he found Mike." Hillary whined from her position under his chair. Sam reached down absently to stroke her muzzle.
Bobby shrugged, glancing over briefly. "Wherever it was, I'm guessing it's not there now."
Sam nodded, unable and unwilling to come up with a verbal reply. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping outside Dean's door. His pulse sped up as he hoped it was Dean's asshole doctor with good news.
"Good afternoon," a male voice said brightly. Sam stood and turned slowly to face the asshole. He was beaming, like he'd just discovered the cure for the common cold. When his gaze fell on Dean, the smile dropped away. "Don't tell me he's still out. Dean should have woken up by now."
"Well he hasn't," Bobby snapped. "So what the hell is wrong with him?"
Sam knew better than to cross Bobby when the man sounded like that, like Dad. It was frightening and thrilling all at the same time. Frightening in the fact he did sound like Dad and thrilling because it meant Bobby cared so much. Their lifestyle did not afford them many people to care about them, so it always shocked and pleased Sam when he experienced it.
The doctor opened a file to show them some strange looking pictures, kind of like colorful radar. "Right here," he said, pointing to a dark shape in the colors, "is probably a bone splinter. We might have missed it in the initial surgery, or it may have formed afterwards. Considering the amount of initial damage, it would not be surprising for a new splinter to develop later."
"And?" Sam demanded, attempting to use his height and stature to loom over the doctor. He heard a low growl from Hillary, matching his mood.
"What is that dog doing here?" the doctor demanded. "This is a hospital!"
Hillary crawled out from her spot under Sam's chair with teeth bared and a steady growl.
"Lower your voice," Sam said sternly. "She doesn't like you too much as it is. Now tell me what you plan to do to help my brother."
Hillary's whine was sad and plaintive in the quiet room. Sam felt like shaking Dean's doctor until he came up with a magic cure.
"We can try surgery again," he said, "but with the splinter against the nerve bundle like this, there's no guarantee we won't cause some damage when it's removed. And any damage it has caused on its own could be permanent." Then the broad, bright smile returned. "However, I never expected Dean to be able to walk again after the initial injury, so I'd say the odds are definitely in his favor. They're setting up the OR now. All I need is your signature." He thrust a clipboard with a sheaf of legal documents for Sam to sign.
He stared down at the papers in disbelief. What did this mean? What choices did they have?
"That dog is going to have to leave."
Sam lifted his gaze from the papers to the asshole doctor's face. "Get out," he ordered, feeling strangely calm and detached.
When the doctor began to protest, wanting the forms signed before walking out the door, Sam jerked his head at Hillary. "Go ahead," he told her.
Hillary advanced on the doctor, growling and snarling. He lit out of there like his pants were on fire. Good thing, too. Sam was in the mood to allow the dog do whatever she felt like to the jackass.
"Sam?" Bobby sounded a bit fearful. "What are you up to?"
"It's real," Sam replied. The sense of calm overrode everything else, as he thought only of his brother. "That means it can be cured." Sam used to be able to call Michael, but that was from before. Could he call a different archangel now?
"Ralph?" Sam asked of the room around them. "Ralph, we know what it is. Come back."
The flash of light was blinding but short-lived. As Sam blinked away the spots, he could see Raphael standing alone in the middle of the room.
"Make it quick," the angel demanded.
Sam showed him the strange picture the doctor left behind. "They think it's a bone splinter and it's moved into Dean's spine, into the nerves. That's what is causing the pain."
Ralph's face became stern, determined. He took the medical picture. Shaking his head, he handed it back. "This means nothing to me. I'll have to see it for myself. May I?"
One hand hovered over Dean's prone form. Sam nodded eagerly, hoping for a cure without surgery or rehab. Ralph's hand lowered to rest on Dean's chest. A warm bright light glowed from Ralph's palm. His eyes closed and a second hand came to rest next to the first. Soon Dean was enveloped in the warm light. This time Sam did not need to look away. He watched the healing light and felt soothing emotions and mental images flood him. Every good time in his life washed through his consciousness, every moment which felt safe or happy. Watching Ralph attempt to heal Dean was like a drug and Sam could not tear his eyes away, not that he would want to.
When the light faded and Ralph stepped away, Sam watched the archangel's face anxiously.
"I'm not certain," Ralph spoke in a faltering voice, "but I believe I have removed the source of their pain. I shall return to Mike."
After the warm healing light, the bright flash of an angel's departure was jarring, again leaving them blinking away bright spots from their vision. Sam set the paperwork on the foot of Dean's bed as he pulled his chair closer. For now, he would wait to see if it worked. If Dean did not wake soon, Sam would have to approve the surgery, regardless of the risks.
Light streamed into Dean's room through the walls, filtered by his movie posters. He gave Mike a questioning look.
"I'd have to guess they found you," Mike informed his human friend.
Dean nodded, stacking his memories up to place back in the box. "It took them long enough."
"Why do you do that?" Mike asked. "One moment you..." He broke off in midsentence because the light felt familiar.
"Mike?" Dean stood beside him. "What is it?"
He reached out a tentative hand to rest against the wall. "I think it's Ralph," he said slowly. "He's trying to heal you. Oh, this is bad."
Dean moved to stand facing him. "What? Why is that bad?"
Mike met Dean's steady gaze. "One – it means this isn't a phantom pain, that you're really hurt, and two – If Ralph came when Sam called, he's really worried about something."
"Something being you," Dean replied. He ran a hand over his head. "Crap. We're in a whole lot of trouble, aren't we?"
Mike sighed as his hand dropped from the wall. "Probably."
Dean started to project concern. "Mike? What were you doing before you wound up in here?"
"Uh..." Mike thought back with a shrug. "I was coming to get you to hear the closing arguments. Ralph is supposed to, but he was excused from further participation in the trial due to personal issues. Plus, I think he's been out demon hunting again."
Dean grinned at him. "I'd love to see how he hunts demons. I'll bet..." his voice trailed off as his face creased with worry. "You were coming to get me? Where that bitch Bela was holding me? Tell me you didn't make it there."
Mike concentrated on remembering. "Well, I remember arriving in the back yard. I wanted to see what was going on in the house before yanking you out of there. I don't remember actually making it inside, though."
Dean groaned, both hands resting on his head. "Holy crap. That house was full of nutbar angel hunters."
"What?" Mike asked in disbelief. "Angel hunters?"
Dean nodded earnestly. "Better believe it. Bela is working for somebody who wants to catch you and force you to bless their freaky order. Something about how they covet a blessing."
Mike stared at Dean for a moment. "You have no idea what that means, do you?"
Dean shrugged. "Sam wasn't there."
Mike let out a short chuckle. "Covet means to desire strongly/long for. It's kind of an old-fashioned word." He sighed deeply as the implication sunk in. "That's not good either. Any order which needs a blessing must have been disowned by a religious entity. Sometimes splinter groups like that are peaceful and harmless, they just have a different way of doing things. Unfortunately in this day and age, it's more common for them to be violent and out of control."
"They hired Bela, so I'd go for crazy, too," Dean said.
Mike let out a deep breath. "Great. This is shaping up to be quite a year, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately," Dean agreed. "Hey, do you have idea where I can get a good dog leash?"
Mike shook his head at his friend. "Uh, no. Besides, I doubt it would do you any good. How well can you control Sam?"
Dean snorted loudly.
"That's about how well you can expect to control that dog," he informed Dean.
"Well, that's just great," Dean sniped. "How the hell can I keep her from attacking archangels?"
"Work on Sam," Mike suggested. "If his attitude changes towards us, so will the dog's."
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "It just can't be easy, can it?"
The light permeating the room began to fade. Mike waited cautiously as the room dimmed back to normal.
"Well?" he demanded of Dean. "Was Ralph able to heal you?"
Dean glared at him. "How should I know? Dude, I'm stuck in here, too."
Mike glared back. "It's your head, Dean. You can leave any time you..." The room around him spun rapidly, posters swirling into a chaotic blend of riotous color. His stomach lurched dangerously and Mike slammed his eyes closed against it.
A hand gently stroked through his hair. There was some pain, like a dull echo from a distance, barely enough to acknowledge. A familiar presence was at his side, comforting and reassuring.
"Get your hand out of my hair, Ralph," Mike grunted.
Strong hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him up to a sit. Mike tried opening his eyes, hoping for a steady room. They were in Bobby's house on the lumpy sofa. Ralph looked more worried than Mike could remember having seen him in the past few centuries.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked his oldest friend.
"Quiet," Ralph ordered as he was maneuvered around to sit on the sofa properly. "Are you still in pain?" Ralph demanded.
Mike shook his head. "I wasn't in pain."
Ralph glared hotly at him. "Impossible. You were unconscious, unresponsive. The last time that happened was because of Winchester's pain."
Mike leaned back and stretched. "I know. I suppose it was really bad this time, because Dean shielded us from it." He shrugged at the shocked expression. "Being inside a human mind can be quite confining."
Then relief spread over Ralph's face. "So it worked?"
"It worked," Mike confirmed. "You healed him."
Ralph gave him a puzzled look. "You knew it was me?"
Mike groaned as he stood, not wanting to see his friend's face when he said, "Dude, I'd know your touch anywhere. So, having any luck with that demon hunt of yours?" He turned to face Ralph. "I don't suppose you'd like some help?"
"After your closing arguments," Ralph told him sternly. "You've been breaking enough rules lately, Mike. You don't want to be busted down to a rank and file angel."
Mike shrugged. The only big downside to that would be if Ralph refused to hang out with him anymore.
Ralph gave him a shove in the shoulder. "You don't," he said sternly. "Now grab the Winchesters and finish up the trial. Give me a call when you're done and you can join my hunt."
Mike grinned over his friend's reaction. "So. You were really worried about me this time, huh?"
With a growl, Ralph vanished in a brief flash of light. Mike chuckled to himself before heading to collect the Winchesters and Bobby.
"Dean!" Sam's voice was one of the most irritating sounds in the whole freaking world, especially when it sounded like he was in trouble.
Dean cracked his eyes open slowly. The light in here was a little bright, but not too bad. Blurred images hovered over him. After blinking a few times, he could make out Sam's and Bobby's faces.
"Hey," he said weakly. "Anybody get the plates on that semi?"
Relief flooded the room, no doubt directly from Sam. "Hey Big Brother," he said with a silly grin. "How's the back?"
Dean scowled. "Still with the euphoria?"
"Answer the damn question," Bobby snapped as Sam crowded closer to the bed.
Dean moved around experimentally and his back was sore and slightly more painful than usual, but that was it. There were no searing hot needles of pain. As a matter of fact, he discovered if he stretched in a certain direction there was no pain at all, which had not happened since before being body-slammed by a demon.
"Actually, I feel pretty good," he declared.
Sam looked at him suspiciously before resting a hand on his shoulder. Then Sam's eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. After a long moment, his eyes opened and the silly grin was back. "He's telling the truth," Sam declared, "Ralph did it!"
"Ralph?" Dean asked before he remembered what Mike had said. "Oh, right. Did he just show up, or did you call him?"
Sam appeared startled. "Uh, well, both. First he showed up with Mike, who was totally out. Then I called him back to help you. Oh man, I hope this wasn't too rough on Mike."
"It wasn't," Dean confirmed as he sat up. Hillary's head appeared above the bed. Dean leaned forward to give her a scratch.
"How would you know?" Bobby demanded. "You were just as out of it."
"He did something," Sam said slowly before Dean had a chance. "Didn't you, Dean? Tell me you didn't show him any of my boxes."
Dean grinned. "Dude, you started it when you gave him that copy of Dean's Most Embarrassing Moments."
"Just the top box?" Sam asked in a soft voice.
"Yeah, just the top box," Dean replied with a shrug. "Where all the good stuff is."
"What in the hell are you two talking about!" Bobby demanded in a hoarse whisper.
Dean winced, but even hearing 'hell' didn't hurt as much as it had before.
"Is that how you knew Ralph came? Because Mike was with you?" Sam asked, ignoring Bobby's rant.
"Duh, Einstein," Dean snapped, swinging his legs out of bed. "Now where're my clothes? Let's go."
"With you where?" Bobby shoved him back on the bed. "And I'd better start getting some answers around here. Neither one of you is too big to put over my knee!" His hot glare had Dean turning to Sam.
"I think I'm a little old for that," Mike's voice resonated in the room. "It's time for closing arguments. Let's go." He frowned at Dean's hospital gown. "Dude, you really should wear clothes in court."
Dean glared at the archangel. "I thought Adam and Eve ran around naked?"
Mike's face split in a grin. "Times change. Want to borrow my spare robe?"
Dean could only stare back in his horror. Sam chuckled at his side, grabbing him by the elbow. "Dude, I'll get some clothes from the trunk. Can you wait ten minutes, Mike?"
Mike looked down at his bare wrist. "I'm timing you."
Sam's big feet made loud, echoing stomps in the halls.
"He is quieter on hunts, isn't he?" Mike asked, lifting his head.
"He is now," Dean answered in unison with Bobby.
"Sounds like something was missing from your box," Mike said.
"What box?" Bobby shouted, pressing between them. "Somebody tell me what's going on!"
"Dean can explain it later," Mike said with a wave of his hand. A gentle breeze blew through the room and Dean noticed Bobby relax a little.
After Sam came racing back with an armload of clothes, Dean was ready to face the council. He hoped.
