Author's Note: I don't mind writing Jared Padelecki's shoulder injury into my fanfiction, but only because the story surrounding it was so freaking hilarious. All hail Master Chou. Seriously, people, look it up. Also, Demon Ember makes me giggle. I don't own Supernatural. I do own Ember, in all forms.
***Sam POV***
July 15, Evening
"This was a bad idea," Castiel told Sam. "How could you do this?"
Sam hung his head. He had felt guilt before – after Jessica died, and after he'd been soulless. This was different, though – this, he had done with full knowledge and intent. Still, he steeled himself for his answer. "He's my brother, Cas, and she's my best friend. There's nothing I wouldn't do. Besides, don't you want him back? Don't you love her?"
"That's neither here nor there," Castiel said steadily, refusing to be derailed. It was an awful thing to do, Sam."
"I didn't force him into it," Sam said with clenched teeth. "Shut up, here he comes."
A stooped, elderly man with a cane walked slowly forward through the woods. They watched in silence as he buried a small box beneath the dirt in the crossroads. Sam held his breath, and for a beat nothing happened.
"Barry Fox," said a young African-American woman. "You're my kind of customer." She flashed her red eyes.
Sam walked out of the bushes, Castiel tagging along behind him. The elderly man looked surprised, his eyes narrowing slightly; the demon did not.
"Winchester," the demon said. "We were wondering when we'd be seeing you. That's why they sent me."
"Who are you?" asked Sam, narrowing his eyes at the new demon.
"Nefertiti," she said. "Queen of the Crossroads. How very not nice to meet you. I assume there's a Devil's Trap for me, under all the dirt?" She used her foot to scrape away at some of the dirt, revealing bright orange spray paint lines of the Devil's trap Sam had spent the past hour meticulously covering.
"Where's my brother?" Sam said, walking up to the edge of the Devil's Trap. "You tell me, you go free. You don't…" Sam held up the demon knife to demonstrate.
"Hey, young man, what's up?" Barry Fox said. "You said to come at midnight and bury the box-…"
"Just leave," Sam told Barry, not looking at him.
"But you said-…"
"Winchester here needed someone else to summon me," Nefertiti explained. "Demons don't show up anymore for Winchesters. The body count got too high." She turned to Sam. "Still, I never really thought you would actually stoop so low, Sam Winchester. Did you really talk Barry over there into selling his soul?"
Sam was not as skilled as Dean was in hiding his feelings in front of demons, and couldn't help the guilty look that crossed his features.
The demon smiled. "What's the matter, Sam Winchester? Trouble in paradise? What could possibly make a Winchester break bad?" She smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes, and chilled Sam's blood.
"Where is my brother?!" Sam asked again, grabbing the demon by the arm. He sliced, and Nefertiti cried out as a red gash appeared on her arm.
"Young man!" Barry screamed from across the Devil's Trap. "I thought-…"
"Shut up, Barry!" Sam yelled again, still not looking at the older man.
"WHERE'S MY BROTHER?!" Sam asked again, holding the knife out in front of Nefertiti's face.
"I don't know where your brother is," Nefertiti said silkily. Sam had the impression that she wasn't even scared, which made him even angrier. "Nor would I tell you if I knew."
Sam stabbed into Nefertiti's other arm, and she cried out again, but this time Sam didn't stop – he slid a line from her elbow all the way to her wrist.
When he was done, Nefertiti grinned again, and leaned closer, her arm dripping blood. "You Winchesters sure aren't living up to the legend," she said silkily. "Can't even find your own brother?" Then, to Sam's amazement, and pure shock, she took his left arm and threw him, with the strength of a bull, out of the Devil's Trap. Her aim was true, and she knocked over Castiel, who was in Sam's path. Sam felt his shoulder bone disconnect from his socket, and heard a large crack. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized with a sinking stomach that Barry's foot was busy erasing his side of the Devil's Trap. Then a horrible pain pierced his chest, and Sam looked down to find that a knife had impaled him to the hilt. Then he knew no more.
-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-
When Sam awoke, it was light outside. The first thing he noticed was that his shoulder hurt, horribly.
The second thing he noticed was that his chest didn't hurt. Shouldn't he be dead? He tried to move, and found that sitting up caused horrible pain in his shoulder, and only a dull ache in his chest.
When he sat up, he saw, to his horror, Castiel, lying on his side, clearly passed out as well. "Cas!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up. Every movement of his shoulder gave him shooting pains, but he managed to make it over to Castiel. He tapped Castiel on the shoulder with his good arm, and nearly collapsed with relief when Castiel gave a small grunt.
Sam shouted the angels' name a few more times, and smacked him lightly in the face. Finally, Castiel's eyes opened slightly, and he smiled. "Sam," he said softly.
"Cas, are you okay?" Sam asked. "What happened?"
"I healed you," the angel said softly. He gave a couple of coughs.
Sam had forgotten about his shoulder for a second, and paid for his lapse in memory when pain shot down his shoulder again as he attempted to take his shirt off to look at his chest.
Castiel winced. "I'm sorry about that," he said, his voice still barely a whisper. "I'm... my grace is failing. I had to… prioritize." Castiel nodded very slightly at Sam's chest.
Managing to get his shirt open, Sam saw that underneath the bloody clothing was a somewhat raw, red patch of skin, but otherwise he was healed.
"What happened after I passed out?" Sam asked.
"I'm not sure," Castiel said. "I healed you. That wound was right to your heart. You had only seconds. I… I think I passed out myself, after that." Castiel then went into a fit of coughing.
Sam looked at the angel. "I suppose they did the deal after that," he told Castiel. "Maybe they both thought we were dead."
Castiel nodded, his body still wracked with coughs. Guilt overtook Sam again. Remembering to use the correct arm this time, he hoisted himself off of the ground and offered his good arm to the angel. "Let's go home, Cas."
-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-
An hour later, Castiel finally spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't heal your shoulder, Sam. I can heal it now, if you'd like."
Sam glanced at his shoulder, which seemed to be sticking out the wrong way. "Every time you heal someone, your grace fails a little more, doesn't it?" he asked the angel sharply.
Castiel took a long time to answer, but finally he said, "Yes."
Sam was silent for a second. "My shoulder will heal on its own," he said. "I'll… I'll go to a doctor." The idea seemed foreign to him, but the angel appeared more guilty than surprised.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said again.
An hour later, Castiel spoke again. "I don't have much time left," he said.
"I know," Sam told him. "I'm… I'm sorry." In the three hours since Castiel had healed him, Castiel had yet to stop coughing. At one point, Sam was certain that Castiel had coughed up blood.
"I would heal you again, if you would let me," said Castiel.
"I won't," Sam said.
Castiel was silent for awhile. Then he said, "I don't want you to watch me die, Sam."
"What?" asked Sam in surprise.
"Please understand, if you find any leads on Dean and Ember, I need to know," Castiel said. "Please, please tell me. I'll continue to look around, as well." He paused. "But… I don't want you to watch me die. Ember… she left me a key to the house we used to live in, with the children. I should like to die there, in peace."
Sam narrowed his eyes, looking sharply at Castiel in the passenger seat. "What about the children?" he asked the angel sharply. "They like having you at the bunker. They'll never forgive me if I come back without you."
Castiel shook his head. "They'd spend more time caring for me, and worrying about me, if I came back to the bunker," he said. "They've got enough to worry about as it is. And it's… what Ember would want. For them. They've seen enough in their lives."
Sam looked at the angel again, and was stunned at the emotion showing in his eyes. "You really loved her, didn't you?" he asked.
Castiel nodded once.
"What if she came back?" Sam asked. "And she wanted you back? Would you…"
"I'm dying, Sam," Castiel said, not looking at him. "What is there to be gained by drawing it out?"
Sam was silent. It occurred to him that if he were Dean, he would have come up with some way to persuade Castiel to search for a way to keep living. Sam had learned from Gadreel, though, that that wasn't always what was best. After everything he had done for them, they owed Castiel that much.
Plus, what right did he have to attempt to convince Castiel of how to live his life? Sam had convinced a man to sell his soul, despite Castiel's misgivings, despite what he knew was right. And he'd do it again. He was already planning to try again.
***Ember POV***
July 27, Afternoon
The good-looking man – the one with the longish brown hair – was too handsy. Nobody – nobody but Dean, anyway – touched Ember until she said so. Granted, that had been the general idea, bringing him back to her room. Still, Ember liked a bit of foreplay. Throwing her down on the bed and attempting to have his way with her was not something Ember appreciated in sexual partners she had just met.
"Too handsy!" Ember screamed, using her powers to propel the man onto the ceiling. He crashed there with a sickening thud, then rebounded down onto Ember's bed, unconscious. Ember stared at him for a second, then rolled her eyes and got up to light a cigarette.
Ember was smoking peacefully two minutes later when Dean opened the door. He looked at the man on the bed, narrowed his eyes, and looked back at Ember. "What happened to him?"
"Too handsy too quickly," Ember said.
Dean started toward the man. "Don't bother," Ember said, putting her cigarette out on the dresser next to the bed. "I already knocked him out I think."
Dean said nothing, but stopped his progress toward the unconscious man on the bed. "Could've asked me if you wanted a fuck."
"'Tried to," Ember said, still not looking at Dean. "You were banging the blond waitress again, so I had to go for other options."
"Only because you were nowhere to be found," Dean shot back at her.
"''Not my job to be around every time you wanna bang," Ember said, looking at him finally. "Somebody has to do the robbing around here. Can't afford these 5-star hotels on your salary." It echoed something she had said to him, once, back when they both cared. She looked him up and down. "Free now, though, if you're interested." She used her powers to roll the unconscious man onto the floor, making the point that the bed was unoccupied. He hit the floor with a soft thud, which both demons ignored.
He looked her up and down, and they collided in a tangle of limbs and power.
***Castiel POV***
August 7, Day
Castiel felt horrible. And miserable. All he wanted to do was sleep. He had heard of human sickness before, but he was starting to wonder how sick he would get before he actually died.
The phone on his night stand began to ring. He was annoyed with it, until he saw that it was Sam. The younger Winchester brother never called just to talk, so there must be some sort of news. "Sam. Hello," he said.
"I think I might have found something," Sam said.
"Oh good, good," said Castiel. Then a painful cough cut off his ability to speak. He really needed to get to the drug store and ingest some of this cough medicine the kids kept telling him about when they called him. He doubted it would do much good, but perhaps in larger quantities it might at least begin to help. It certainly couldn't make things worse.
"Cas? You there?" Sam asked.
"It's okay, I'm...um...I'm okay. Go...go on." He continued to cough.
"Alright, get this," said Sam. "A "John Doe" who was murdered in Wisconsin a week ago turns out to be this guy named Drew Nealy who went missing from a religious order in Northern Ohio...okay?"
Castiel remembered happier times, when he would've been better at following that conversation. "Yeah?"
"Now, Drew Nealy had been missing for 3 years," Sam continued. "Killed his wife, his kids...just disappeared. I know it's thin, but...if this guy was possessed..."
"That would make him the first-…" but he was cut off by more coughing.
"The first lead, the first anything we've seen in..." Sam trailed off, and Castiel continued to cough.
"Sorry," said Castiel.
"Actually...you know what...now that I'm looking at this more I think I uh...I think I jumped the gun here, buddy."
Castiel's heart sank. Finally, finally there was news, and he was completely worthless. A damn worthless angel. "No, Sam, you said it was something."
"Yeah...uh...it's...it's not. I was wrong, sorry."
"I can help," Castiel protested.
"Cas...we tried that," Sam said.
"Sam...you can't blame what that demon did to your shoulder on me; you were out of..." He had started to say out of line, but perhaps this wasn't the time.
"I'm not, I'm not blaming anything on you. What happened, happened, and...you need to be worrying about yourself. I really shouldn't have bothered you."
"How are you, Sam?" Castiel asked, still trying to get information out of the younger Winchester.
"Good. I'm alright. I'm just...tired, you know. Be better when we get them back...after...after I kick his butt."
"I miss them," said Castiel solemnly.
"Yeah," said Sam. "At least they're together."
Castiel was silent for a second. He didn't share the same relief over this. "Why would they just disappear?" he asked finally.
"Who said they had a choice?" asked Sam.
Castiel shook his head, setting off a coughing fit. When he had recovered, he said, "It still makes no sense."
"And Heaven couldn't give you any clues?" Sam asked.
"I told you, all of the oldest resources and books in Heaven have been ransacked and stolen," Castiel said. "Besides, this is Hell lore. Crowley would know, if anyone."
"Yeah, well, Crowley is the one that got Dean mixed up in this crap in the first place," Sam reminded Castiel.