So Not An Angel!

Chapter One Nightmares

A hotel room. Three days after Dean's rescue, and the Angels departure.

The figure in the bed nearest the door was propped awkwardly favouring his right side; his body tense with pain even as he slept. Pillows supported a left shoulder which was tram-tracked the length of his collar bone with inflamed sutures, and dappled with ugly peacock-hued bruises.

The man's ribs were heavily strapped; the tight bandages brightly white against honey brown skin dotted with freckles. His left hand too was bandaged and he cradled it in towards his body with a defensive tenacity.

His bruised face was turned towards the door; a recently sutured wound chasing across his cheek and his long dark lashes smudging the grey circles beneath his closed eyes.

When he breathed it was slightly shallow and he hiccupped softly with pain every so often, but it was regular and that was reassuring. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully and his observer sighed tiredly, relieved that sleep had finally claimed him. He gently drew the covers up over the sleeping figure and resumed his silent vigil.

wWw

"Sam?"

Dean's voice was quiet and sleepy, and the lack of strength within his question could have easily been attributed simply to recent wakefulness, but Sam knew better and could hear the poorly disguised lingering pain even in that single soft word.

Sam waited, heart pounding and senses on full alert, to see if this awakening was going to result in another of the now familiar desperate entreaties for comfort that the violent nightmares had wrought from his terrified brother in the time since they had rescued him.

"Stop watching me when I sleep Dude, it's creeping me out!"

Sam smiled in relief, grateful that this time no screams of terror accompanied Dean's gradual consciousness; that he did not have to sit beside his brother as his broken body shook with fear, jarring his barely healed wounds and dragging moans of pain from him to chorus with his confused and fearful murmurings.

Reassured Sam slowly turned his eyes back to his computer, marvelling at how his brother could tell that he had indeed been watching him as he slept. It never failed to intrigue Sam how Dean knew, but whenever he asked all Dean would ever say was that it was his 'big brother Spidey-sense!' So Sam had stopped expecting a sensible answer and just accepted it as part of the enigma that was Dean.

"Sorry Bro."

Dean heard the familiar tapping of laptop keys resume and he allowed the soothing noise to surround him. It helped him to steady his breathing and reminded him that he was here with Sam in the hotel room; safe. Helped him to force his hated panic and fear into a silent walled place within him; to pretend he was OK for Sam.

He focussed on the steady cadence of the keys and matched his racing heart beat to its calmer pace, reaching out to wakefulness and the pain that would inevitably bring as a welcome distraction from the raging turmoil within. Turmoil he dare not even contemplate connecting with.

Dean carefully opened his eyes, and was surprisingly pleased to find that he was able to almost fully open his bloodshot left eye now though his vision remained fuzzy and blurred; the swelling from his broken cheekbone having subsided over the last three days.

He smiled ironically at his own sense of achievement, laughing inwardly at the fact that he would place significance on such a minor improvement in light of all his other injuries, and the celebratory movement ground the fragmented bones in his cheek together and his premature smile became a soft but unmistakable hiss of pain.

The keyboard tapping ceased immediately the subdued exclamation not lost to Sam's sharp ears.

"You okay, Dean?"

The question was both comfort and irritant to Dean. Comfort in that he was still acutely conscious of his absolute and desperate relief that he was here in this dingy motel room with Sam rather than back at "My Tartarus" with the daemon. Yet it irritated him because that was the 300plus time he had heard it since regaining consciousness, and it reminded him how broken and damaged he was and worse still that he was unable to hide his pitiful state from Sam.

"Do you need any help?"

Sam cringed inwardly as he heard those words leave his lips. That was so not the question to ever ask Dean and certainly not when he was in so hurt that unchecked pain and fear oozed through the myriad cracks within his crumbling defences, and loathed vulnerability dulled his translucent jade eyes.

Sam sat in silent contrition as unspoken waves of irritation and frustration assaulted him from the direction of Dean's bed, kicking himself for thoughtlessly ruining a potentially good start to the day.

wWw

Raphael's normally serene face was troubled; his smoky grey eyes clouded with doubt. He wanted to trust in Michael's wisdom but was concerned that the decision his elder brother was making was a bridge too far; too soon. He looked to Raguel and saw the same glimmer of doubt mirrored in his pale blue gaze.

"Michael..."

Raguel began but was halted as The Prince of Angels raised a gentle hand and laid it on Raphael's arm.

"I know what you are going to say, Raphe."

Warmth and compassion resonated in Michael's words, and Raphael rejoiced again that they had been able to free him from the daemon's long and brutal possession and return him to his rightful position.

'I know it's soon to leave Uri behind. He will be distressed, angry, and afraid and will no doubt find a way to interpret my decision as punishment for his perceived failure of judgement. Yet anticipating all that, you know that we must go and check that the Gate is secure, that the one we banished is contained as are the myriad others. We cannot concentrate on our task if we have to worry constantly about Uriel."

He paused watching the other angels' nods of agreement.

"We all need to be at full strength and Uriel's leg is not entirely healed..."

Raphael interrupted.

"I need only a few more days, Michael, and his leg will be as strong as it's ever going to be..."

Michael squeezed his brother's arm and Raphe hushed, knowing his words were pointless; that Michaels assessment of the situation was fair and just.

"I know you could and then you would be worn out, Raphe, and I need your strength and Raguel's for the work ahead of us."

Raphael lowered his head and Michael felt his brother's grief that he had not more to give.

"Raphe, you have nothing to reproach yourself for. You have already worked...well...miracles!"

Raguel laughed suddenly; a deep throaty laugh that warmed the room, and they all chuckled irreverently at Michael's provocative choice of words.

Raphael's skills as a healer were legend and he had indeed made masterful in-roads into the younger of the brother's physical recovery in a very short time.

"It's not just his leg though, Raphe, you know as well as me. His physical injuries were inconsequential besides the damage that the daemon did to his soul."

Michael paused, and steadily held the gaze of his brothers, and their intertwined hearts were joined in the desperate knowledge that he was correct. Uriel's spirit had been bruised and battered by the events of his beloved older brother's possession.

He had come to doubt himself, his abilities and his very faith. He was fragile and vulnerable and would be a potential liability until his soul regained its strength. He must be left behind for now even though it would hurt him dreadfully.

Raphael sighed; his resignation weighing heavily on his heart, and Michael felt compassion for his companion. In the long time that he had been lost to them, he knew that they had grown ever closer, and that Raphael worried for Uriel as he did.

Raguel raised his huge hand and laid it on Michael's shoulder, his strong face gently questioning.

"So what do we tell him, My Prince, and where on Earth do we leave him where he will be safe?"

wWw

Sam cracked their motel room door as quietly as he could desperate not to wake Dean from his fitful slumber. He ushered Jo in with a finger to his lips, his dark hazel eyes entreating her to silence as he reached to relieve her of the burden of cups of coffee and takeout food bags.

The tiny hunter stepped carefully over the multiple lines of salt that guarded the door and gently eased the door shut, wincing at the dull squeak of the rusted hinges.

In the bed nearest the door Dean twitched at the noise murmuring softly; his brow creasing slightly but he did not wake.

Jo crept to the table at the back of the room and helped Sam set their late breakfast on the tattered surface, her worried face searching his for clues to Dean's condition.

"How is he?"

She whispered, her eyes stealing to the still form tucked up in the messy bed.

"Not as bad a night as the last few."

Sam kept his voice low as he wrestled the top from one off the coffee cups, instantly discarding it as it had no sugar or cream.

"He slept?"

She smiled as she handed him another coffee cup and watched the tall hunter raise it gratefully to his lips.

"Yeah, woke for his meds but he slept some more after his pain settled."

Jo raised her own coffee and took a sip of the volcanically hot liquid. She smiled relieved to know that Dean had slept a little.

"And the nightmares?"

Sam lowered his cup, worried hazel eyes looking from beneath untidy chocolate brown bangs.

"Well he didn't wake up screaming this time."

Jo could hear the raw pain in Sam's exhausted voice and she suppressed a slight shudder, reliving in her head the terrified screams of anguish that had rent the silence of the room all too frequently over the three days since they had rescued Dean from the daemon. She felt the ache of the bruises on her arms where Dean's fingers had gripped her in his hazy consciousness, as the terrors of his captivity had reverberated through his broken body.

She looked closely at Sam, taking in his dishevelled clothes, pale, sleep deprived face and the dark circles beneath his dull eyes. He was exhausted she could tell and she feared how much longer he could keep up this vigil.

"Thank you for letting me sleep the night through, Sam."

He smiled and nodded his head slowly, taking another swallow of his coffee.

"You needed it."

"You're right, but so do you Sam. We need some help here."

She cast her eyes back to the bed again, unconsciously checking that its occupant was breathing steadily.

"What do you think about trying to make it to Bobby's? Dean's more stable now and we could reason with him and get him to take the stronger pain meds you got for him for the journey"

Sam put his coffee down and accepted the toasted bagel that Jo had unwrapped as they were speaking. He took a big bite realising as it hit his rumbling stomach that he was starving.

"I'd like to go to Bobby's, Jo; I think we need his help. Dean's been through such a lot and he's ...he's hurt inside... Normally he'd be happy to go to Bobby's, hell it's one of the very few places he's always felt something like safe. When either of us has been hurt bad in the past it's the place we always headed for, but you saw what he was like when I suggested it before. It was like he was terrified at the prospect."

Sam paused, his voice catching as he looked at his sleeping brother.

"He won't talk about what happened with the daemon, Jo, and it's eating him up! I don't know how to reach him; how do I help him if I don't know what's wrong?"

Jo watched the anguish of his breaking heart written on his pale face and felt her own tears pricking at her eyes but she pushed them away. Sam didn't need tears now he needed strength and if that's all she could do then she would damn well do that!

"Right then! Go shower and I'll pack your stuff. We are going to Bobby's and Dean will just have to get his head round that."

Sam smiled hesitantly, heartened by his friends strength and determination. He pushed the rest of the bagel into his mouth and grabbed clean clothes from his duffel, heading for the shower as he chewed. He paused at the bathroom door.

"What about your gear, Jo?"

The tiny blond girl smiled knowingly.

"Already packed and in the car."

Sam laughed quietly, grateful for Jo's companionship and struggling with the words to tell her so. She waved him away her smile telling him that she understood his unspoken message.

"Go! The sooner you shower, the sooner we can leave."

wWw

Dean was gasping for breath; the pain as his ribs inexorably cracked pushing the air from his burning lungs. He wanted to scream, either for mercy or for death he didn't much care anymore, but he couldn't suck enough air to form even a single word. Fear grasped at his heart as he fought desperately against the slide back into his hated nightmare.

Jo's alert ear heard the soft moan and she was at Dean's side in an instant. She did not touch him but watched to see if he would simply stir briefly and then return to his much needed slumber. She registered the fitful movement of his head, and the rapid dart of his eyes beneath closed lids indicating he was dreaming. He shifted slightly; moving his less damaged right hand to guard his bandaged ribs and she saw his brow crease in pain. She glanced to the bathroom door, urgently calling Sam's name.

Dean trembled in terrified anticipation as he felt Mikey's hand close about his shattered shoulder remembering the pain from recent reality and knowing this return to it would be, if anything, worse. He looked into obsidian eyes lustfully alive with the pleasure of his pain and heard again Mikey's casually evil voice gloating at his suffering.

Panic flooded his body as the daemon's cruel hand punished him unmercifully and he squeezed his eyes closed as the dream stripped his mind of the ability to distinguish reality from fevered nightmare.

Dean's back arched convulsively, pushing his injured body up from the bed as his head forced back against the damp pillows. The line of sutures in his torn shoulder strained against the inflamed wound and tiny blossoms of crimson decorated the fevered skin. He moaned breathlessly, and his indecipherable words mingled with the pitiful utterances of pain.

Sam reached Jo as her second shout echoed about the small room and he knelt urgently on the bed beside his brother and placed strong hands on the convulsing mans shoulders , trying to ease him back against the mattress. He glanced at Jo, and with a voice that belied his growing panic said.

"Jo. Hold his legs down, we have to stop him writhing, he's gonna dislocate his shoulder again if we can't get him to ease down!"

Jo nodded and flung her scant weight against Dean's legs but in his terror he was far stronger than she and she could not hold him down. Sam winced as sutures popped and warm blood washed over his fingers. Under his palm he felt the head of Dean's humerus grinding in its tenuous socket.

Dean's shoulder grated as the daemon's hands pawed at him and it whispered that he would yet bend to its will, and he flung his own hands out, desperate to lose the creature from his straining body. He contacted the daemon's chest and pushed with the remaining strength he possessed, crying out weakly for it to stop.

"Please...NO!"

The words echoed in Sam's head, his brother's agony and despair tearing a trail of ruination through his heart, and he continued to murmur Dean's name amongst the soft soothing litany of words he crooned in an effort to break the nightmare and bring his brother back to him from wherever he suffered.

Jo climbed onto the bed at the opposite side to Sam, her voice joining his

"Please, Dean! Try and come back to us... we're here ...you're safe, the daemon is gone...you can stop fighting!"

Dean could hear the voices distantly, somewhere behind the daemon's foul mantra, and knew they sounded like Sam and Jo but he couldn't remember if they were real? Had they saved him? All that seemed real for him was the daemon and his endless pain.

"They are not real, Dean."

In his confusion, Mikey whispered, his hot breath caressing the struggling hunters neck. Perhaps Mikey was telling the truth? They couldn't be there because they would have saved him from this agony if they were; would have stopped the daemons red hot claws from searing him again and again. Dean fought to distinguish memory from current reality but the voices in his head, and the grinding pain in his body defeated him.

Sam watched as the lean muscles in Dean's arms bunched tightly as he tried to fight off Sam's restraining hands and the bandages on his right hand turned red as the knife wound gaped and bled within its wrappings. He could feel Dean's whole body trembling with the effort of his struggle and Sam could hear him panting with exhaustion. Beneath his hand Dean's shoulder joint ground alarmingly.

"Jo?"

Frightened honey brown eyes looked up at him questioningly.

"Sit on his legs; push him down onto the bed. His shoulders nearly out..."

Jo straddled Dean's writhing body and sat carefully down on his thighs, one hand on his taught abdomen as her weight finally drove him to the mattress.

Dean felt the weight of his despair crushing him down as the events of the last few days replayed horribly before his eyes, but he also heard the daemons voice whispering in real time telling him that he was still his and he would find him soon. He shuddered unable to fight anymore and as blessed unconsciousness started to envelope him, he did not struggle against it.

Sam felt Dean's body suddenly go limp beneath his hands and he watched with horror as his brothers breathing became shallow and thready. He glanced nervously at Jo and saw his distress mirrored on her face.

"What's happening, Sam?"

Jo moved her hand higher onto Dean's bandaged chest, checking for breathing.

"He's barely breathing..."

Panic tinged Sam's voice as he wrapped his large hands around Dean's upper arms and lifted him a little way from the pillows. Dean's head lolled back weakly.

"Come on, Dean, don't do this to me."

Sam was scared. Dean looked lifeless, his face pale and lips bloodless. Sam gripped his slack arms and shook his still body.

Pain flared for Dean pushing away the nightmares, and he groaned hoarsely in the back of his parched throat as he struggled to open his exhausted eyes seeking its source. He could hear voices somewhere around him but the words were indistinct.

Sam saw Dean's eyelids flicker slightly and shook him again more vigorously.

"That's it, bro, come on open your eyes!"

Dean heard Sam's voice, or at least it sounded like Sam. He heard it entreat him to open his eyes and he tried.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as his saw a slit of unfocussed pale green, and he released one of Dean's arms catching Dean's rolling head in his gentle hand, supporting him to find focus on Sam's face. Jo moved to sit at Dean's shoulder, her arm catching him as he wobbled.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice was a dry whisper but sounded wonderful to Sam.

"I'm right here Bro, I got ya. You're safe now."

Dean found Sam's face at last. His uncoordinated gaze flickered around Sam's face taking in his tiredness.

"How y...doing, S...Sam? Y'okay?"

Dean's voice was slurred and full of pain.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine, how about you?"

"Peachy!"

Sam huffed a small laugh out, his glance flickering to Jo as he watched his brother gather the crumbling remnants of his inner defences and attempt to stow his shameful fears behind them, away from prying eyes.

"That was a bad one! You were back in Tartarus?"

Jo watched as Dean fought to re-establish his fragile control; pretending everything was fine so he could push them away and she saw the hurt in Sam's gentle eyes. She wanted to shake Dean and beg him to let his brother in; to let him help but she knew better and held her tongue.

"It was... just a stupid dream, Sam. Leave it ...I'm fine."

Dean shifted in Sam's embrace, trying to shake his brother's grip. The younger hunter held his position until green eyes wide with fear fled his penetrating stare.

"You're gonna have to talk about it sometime."

Sam's soft eyes bored into Dean and he squirmed inwardly, part of him desperate to let the terror that twisted his gut out but the rest of him too afraid to voice his fears. He took in a trembling breath and returned his gaze to Sam. Green ice matched hazel brown as their eyes met.

"No ...I ... I don't."

Jo heard determination behind the breathless words and she felt Dean stiffen against her embrace.

"Dean, these are more than just 'stupid dreams', you're..."

"Look, Sam, I had..."

A sudden intake of breath paused Dean's words as pain flared in his shoulder.

"I had...a rough time for a while there. That's all this is."

Sam watched his brother's eyes and knew that he was categorically lying; that his dreams were tearing him apart but he also saw that Dean absolutely would not discuss the matter. Anger stirred within him, driven by fear. Fear for Dean's wellbeing, sanity even, and it spilled out of him.

"Why do you do this, Dean? Why do you push me away? I just wanna help you!"

Jo watched as Sam's hands tightened on Dean's upper arms shaking the older hunter as he pulled him up from the pillows he'd slumped against. She knew it was a gesture born of love and concern but she felt Dean gasp and saw his face blanch in pain.

"Sam...Lemme go...hurting me!"

Dean's voice was a growled mixture of mounting fury and hiccupping pain, and he raised his hands placing them on Sam's forearms trying to shake off his brothers rage fuelled grip.

"Well if you won't speak to me, maybe Bobby'll be able to get some sense outta ya."

Dean's left hand thrust determinedly against Sam's chest, and Jo watched as blood squelched from the oozing bandage to make a handprint on the white cotton of Sam's shirt.

"I am... NOT going ...to...to Bobby's!"

"Why not, Dean? He can help you."

Sam's raised voice was incredulous; his own exhaustion and worry for his brother sapping his patience to the point where he could not restrain his temper. He knew he was hurting Dean as he shook him, jamming him repeatedly into the pillows but he was powerless to stop. Dean's cries of pain became louder as he thrashed helplessly in Sam's strong grip, but even that did not break through Sam's rage.

"Sam...Sam!"

Jo stretched her arm forward and gripped Sam's shoulder, digging her fingers into him as his did into Dean.

"Stop it. You're hurting him, Sam. Let him go!"

She shook Sam's shoulder; watching as Sam's distress driven fury subsided and his face took on a look of horrified realisation. He lessened his grip, lowering his gasping brother back into Jo's arms, rising from the bed to stand wringing his hands.

"Dean! I'm sorry! Jeez are you ok man?"

Jo heard the cry for absolution in Sam's words and watched in amazement as Dean's eyes flicked open and locked straight onto Sam's, all anger gone and only the urgent need to calm Sam etched within the trembling green depths.

"Okay...Sam ...M'okay."

Jo eased Dean back against the pillows, turning to face him as she sat at this side on the bed.

"Sam."

Her voice held control and Sam's gaze moved reluctantly from his brother to her.

"Get the first aid kit and some hot water ."

Sam nodded; his shame filled eyes peeking out from beneath his brown bangs, and he turned and hurried towards the bathroom door, glad for an activity to divert his mind from his reprehensible actions.

Jo turned back to face Dean and assessed the state of the older hunter. The carefully placed sutures in his shoulder wound were burst in a number of places and fresh blood stained his shoulder and the bandages on his ribs. Similarly his left hand wore a newly crimson wrapping as it lay oozing onto the covers. He was pale and sweaty; his breathing shallow and short as he tried to minimise the motion of grating ribs, yet his eyes were alert, alive with pain and fixed on hers.

"What hurts most? Your shoulder, your hand or your stupid stubborn head?"

Dean's dilated eyes widened even more and he opened his mouth to speak only to have his words swallowed by a cry of pain as Jo lifted up his bleeding hand and begin to undo the soggy dressing.

"You are a stubborn pig headed man, Dean Winchester! Your brother just wants to help you. You do it for him all the time; let him look after you for once."

Dean couldn't speak, he pretended to himself it was the pain of his injuries that halted the breath in his lungs but in truth it was Jo's penetrating words that threatened his crumbling facade.

"Why do you think you have to face what the daemon has done to you on your own?"

Jo removed the last of the dressing from Dean's hand and winced to see the torn stitches there too. She laid his hand carefully on the sheet and looked into emerald eyes subdued with fatigue and pain.

"Why don't you wanna go to Bobby's? He'll be able to help."

Dean couldn't hold her gaze for fear she would see into the confused chaos within him and he looked down at the sheets. He felt Jo shift on the bed and then her warm arms ever so gently wrapping around him as she drew him into her body. He nestled his aching head into her soft neck and closed his eyes. He was so tired and every bit of him hurt.

Jo could feel the shudders of pain running though his body as she held him and she wanted to tell him to let go; that she would be his strength for a while if he would let her. But she knew he would hate her for it so she held him as tightly as she dared, mindful of his wounds, and rubbed his back with soft tender movements trying to let him know she was there for him.

"Please, Dean, let's go to Bobby's?"

She felt him lean in to her, his body heavy and hot against her.

"Just talk to him. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

Jo felt Dean's breath shudder and hot tears on her neck as he struggled to speak.

"Can't..."

She held him tighter, her own tears running into his hair, where her face brushed against the short spikes of dark blond.

"Why, Dean?"

She pulled away from him, her gentle hand turning his face to hers. His eyes sparkled with moisture and misery.

"Why?"

"Scared..."

He breathed the word on a whisper of air rather than spoke it and she knew it was torn reluctantly from behind his tumbling walls. She felt his terror, the turmoil within him and her heart longed to help him.

"Scared of what?"

He looked into her eyes then, and she felt herself lost in a gaze that glowed with an intense pure white light.

"Of what I have become, Jo. Of what I might be!"

Chapter ends

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