AN: Well, we've come to the end. Thank you for reading!
I have to acknowledge Janice, my wonderful and oh-so-patient beta. She keeps me on track and the story moving along more than even she realizes.
Thanks, too, to bagelcat1, for the fantastic prompt and input on how to improve the story along the way.
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Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them.
– Albert Einstein
Sam was being carried and he hurt. Like, his arms were screaming at him so loudly they drowned out almost everything else. Everything except the overwhelming need to hurl. He thought he was turned on his side, laid on the floor or the ground, and someone was holding his head.
Voices floated over him and the cool feeling he recognized as angel healing washed through him. That made everything so much better, but he couldn't stop puking. By now, he could recognize that the hands on his head and shoulder were Dean. Whatever was happening, Dean and Cas were there. He was safe.
"No more tequila," Sam moaned when his body gave him a brief break. He heard Dean laugh, slightly hysterically, then blessedly passed out.
The next thing Sam registered was the feel and smell of leather against his cheek. He knew he was in the Impala before he got his eyes open. He could make out the sound of the engine's smooth rumble and The Rain Song playing softly while Dean hummed along even softer. Sam didn't move immediately, because even lying still, everything freaking hurt. Like everything, right down to his toenails. He wasn't entirely certain that his hair didn't hurt. Still, he knew somehow that the pain was less –a lot less –than it had been.
But why?
Sam had the impression of terrible, burning hunger. A river. Sharp teeth. Falling. A cage, but not the cage. Cas. And, of course, Dean.
"D-d-" he tried, unable to get his mouth to work very well.
"You're okay, Sammy. Go back to sleep." Dean sounded weary but not especially worried. A hand came over the back of the front seat and blindly patted Sam's arm.
Sam's body was fully on board with going back to sleep, but his mind was feeling contrary. He remembered vampires attacking and Dean throwing himself against some bars and Hooch's dead eyes and he really needed some context – and to know that Dean wasn't hurt. "Y-y-you?" he tried, beyond irritated that he couldn't get more words out. Or better yet, sit up and do his own assessment.
"You actually awake?"
Sam could just make out Dean's profile in the front seat. If Dean was driving, he was at least somewhat in one piece. Of course, Sam had seen him manage to drive while half-dead, so that wasn't as comforting as it should have been.
After three tries, Sam managed to wipe a hand over his eyes. "Mmmm. Maybe."
The sound of the engine changed subtly and Sam could hear that they were now on gravel. He caught the little pop that the Impala gave when she was put into park and the rustle of Dean turning to look at him. At least his ears were working right.
"How you doin'?" Dean asked, all faux-casual.
Sam ran his tongue over fuzzy teeth. "Thirsty?" he tried, and found it was true. The burning hunger was just a phantom, a dream or a memory.
"For what?" Dean's face was tired but he didn't seem to be in pain. And Sam found it hard to read his expression, though something in his eyes said the question wasn't quite as simple as it sounded.
"Coffee," Sam decided. "Or juice. Or anything, really."
Something in Dean's face relaxed at that. "I've got some Gatorade, if that sounds okay."
It sounded fabulous. Sam started to push upward, which made Dean swear and reach for him. "Hang on. Just hang on a sec and I'll help you."
Yeah, no. Sam kept trying, only to fall back down when the door by his feet opened sharply, surprising him. Cas looked inside. "Is Sam well?" he asked. Sam could just make out the sound of another engine and figured the angel had been following them.
"Sam's fine," Sam answered, still not sure why they were acting like he was made of glass. He was sore, but it wasn't that bad, and he couldn't identify a single real injury, just an over-all malaise and weakness. He was amused by the blatant surprise on Cas' face. The angel didn't often let his emotions show in his expression like that. Whatever had happened must have been bad. Just how bad, Sam wondered, not sure if he really wanted to know.
By this time, Dean was opening the door by Sam's head. Sam tried again to sit up on his own, but he was too slow, and both of the others manhandled him upright and sat on either side of him. Sam sighed and let Dean help him take a sip of purple Gatorade.
"Told ya he was good," Dean smirked at Cas, but there was that relief again.
Sam really wanted to know what had happened. He opened his mouth to ask, caught sight of his own muddy jeans, and suddenly remembered the poor, drowned town of Gordes. He took the bottle out of Dean's hand and took a bigger drink on his own. His memories as a vampire were strange, dark and almost dream-like, ethereal and vague.
"You two okay?" he asked, and winced at a memory. "Did I tip over a silo onto you, Cas?"
"We're fine," Dean said.
"I was able to heal myself," Cas reassured Sam at the same time. "And I am fairly certain that you were trying to collapse it on yourself, as you had just asked me to kill you."
Sam very carefully didn't look at Dean. "Yeah, you messed up my calculations when you hit the wall," he mumbled.
"Well, as Naomi once told me, I am a 'spanner in the works,'" Cas admitted. He sounded almost proud of the fact. "I healed your injuries, Sam, but I need to know if you're still in pain."
Sam considered the fact. "Honestly, I just feel a little hung-over." It was mostly true. He'd never been quite so achy from a hangover. Or dry. He took another drink and pieced together more of his memories. "Dean hurt?" He directed the question at Cas, who was more likely to give him an honest answer.
"He was," said Cas, talking right over Dean's complaints. "He has been healed, but he is in desperate need of sleep. He has been drinking those energy drinks that you disapprove of."
"Tattle-tale," Dean muttered under his breath.
Sam smothered a yawn. Though he'd just woken, he felt in need of sleep, too.
"Right. Well, let's get back to the bunker and we can all get some shut-eye," Dean decided. He gave Sam a nudge that said as clear as any words that he'd been worried and was grateful that Sam was fine. Yeah...worried...he'd gone after the vamps himself. Sam remembered that clearly enough.
Cas and Dean both got out and Sam moved to follow Dean, who grumbled but helped him anyway when Sam announced that he was getting in the front seat.
It turned out to be mid- to late-afternoon, and Sam vaguely recognized the area. They were an hour or less south of home. He'd been out of it a lot longer than he'd have guessed. He wondered what Cas had been surprised about. Had he doubted that Sam would recover? Sam thought of the madness he could just barely recall and suppressed a shudder.
"I didn't...I didn't hurt you guys, or anybody else, did I?" he asked, leaning against the car and looking at his own hands instead of at Dean or Cas. He really wanted to make sure he hadn't bitten anybody, but couldn't quite make himself say the words. "Other than...the silo, anyway?"
"You did not," said Cas.
At the same time, Dean said, "Nope. Just climbed onto a freaking roof."
"I am sorry that I left you," Cas added, sounding pained.
Dean growled. "And we still need to talk about that."
"No, we don't," Sam argued, meeting the blue eyes over the Baby's roof and trying not to lean quite so hard on his brother. "You did what needed to be done, Cas. Dean needed that information, right? Just, thanks, to both of you."
Neither answered as Dean tucked Sam into the front seat like he was some kind of invalid, which he absolutely was not, never mind the way his legs shook. He yawned again.
It was good that Cas was coming back to the bunker. They could search for signs of Jack together, all three of them. They made a good team, like on this case. Sure, things had gotten a little hairy. Okay, more than a little. But they'd defeated a thousands of years old vampire and destroyed his entire nest. And though Sam had been turned, he'd managed to somehow stave off madness and the other two had brought him back. They'd all be ready for the next challenge. After a week's worth of sleep, maybe.
Sam opened an eye he didn't remember shutting to see Dean studying him. "I'm fine, Dean. Just tired."
"Of course you are." Dean looked forward and turned the key. But some of the starch went out of his posture.
"So, you tracked down and took out a whole nest, huh? I'd like to hear that story," offered Sam truthfully. He still liked hearing about his (pretty amazing) big brother, and he knew Dean still liked telling his tales to Sam. (The whole killing Hitler thing still came up at least once a month.)
"Yeah?" Dean smiled. "Bet you don't stay awake for the whole thing. I was kinda awesome, though. Did you know there are actual catacombs in Louisiana? Oh, and I got to use the WBGoEB." He pronounced the last webgo-ebb.
"The what?" asked Sam in his best my-brother's-an-idiot voice, knowing the tone guaranteed he'd get an explanation.
It turned out to be a great story, especially with Dean's gift for weaving a good anecdote, and Sam was determined to stay awake for the whole thing, if only to prove Dean wrong. But somewhere around the time he tried to think about how they could destroy the catacombs and make sure that all of Baako's victims were at rest, Sam fell back asleep.
He could have sworn that there was a hand on the back of his neck for a few seconds, but he was too far gone to call Dean on it.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Cas wandered down the corridors of the bunker thinking about Winchester Rule Number Four, which he'd just learned: Nothing is truly hopeless. Never give up. He'd sat in Jack's room until he couldn't stand it for one more minute. He knew he was moping (Dean's word), but he felt so lost. He had failed Jack, failed to fulfill his promise to Kelly to watch over the boy. And what had happened in Dodge was Cas' fault, which meant that it was his fault that Jack was somewhere on his own, vulnerable. More than Sam or Dean ever could hope to understand, Cas knew how fragile human beings were compared to an angel or Nephilim, and he should have taken that into account. Jack should never have been out on a case at his age. Cas had screwed up – again.
The fact that Sam and Dean had called him for help and that he'd been able to heal them both and help Dean get Sam safely home didn't make Cas feel much better. They'd all been lucky, he knew. Lucky that Sam had staved off madness enough to throw his machete, that Dean had come out from tracking down the nest mostly unscathed, that they'd all survived. A lot of it was toughness, but Cas wasn't self-delusional. Just as much was luck.
He stopped when he heard voices from the library. Even at this distance, he could smell scotch and knew they were having what Sam liked to call their nightcap. It had become a tradition that whenever they could, the brothers came together for a little while before bed to share a drink. Cas knew that he'd be welcome to join them, but he wasn't quite ready for the company.
"...and Jerry finished clearing out and cleansing the catacombs," Sam was saying. "I wish I could've seen them. They're basically natural tunnels, right?"
"Trust me, you didn't want to go down there. The smell. Yeech." That was Dean, of course. "They're checking out the other sites on the coordinates too. Found a couple more pantries already, but no vamps."
Sam hummed. "Those caves you went to must have been carved out by the underground branch of the Calvon River that the guys said ran through the pit."
"Yeah, the one that Baako surfed all the way to town." Dean sniffed and swallowed. "I'd kinda like to kill him again for all the shit he pulled. When you're up for it, we should go back to Gordes and use the skidder to pull down that stupid house, then burn it."
Sam chuckled, and he sounded so relaxed that Cas knew that his decision to let the brothers have these moments just to themselves was the right one. He turned to go back the other way but could still hear Sam. "Sounds like a plan. You know, I don't even remember a lot of it. Like, I don't remember the cure at all."
"You should be glad you don't remember. It's mostly puking and feeling like your body is turning itself inside out. And more puking. So much puking," Dean said.
"Cas said that it was a long time before the cure started to work." Sam sounded curious now. "Did you ever wonder if it wasn't going to work?"
Cas froze. He was eavesdropping, but he really wanted to hear this.
"Not for a second," Dean claimed, and Cas heard Sam's scoff without even seeing it. Cas had watched Dean slowly devolve from worried to afraid to dark and plotting, almost sinister in his determination that he would not lose Sam.
Dean and Cas carried Sam as carefully as they could, and he didn't so much as stir despite the way the motion had to be jostling his broken bones. They had finally acknowledged that the cure wasn't doing anything, that they had to get back to the Impala to get the ingredients to try again with someone else's blood. Cas didn't dare voice his concerns. Looking down at Sam's pale, slack face, he didn't want to even think about the what-ifs.
The skidder wasn't a passenger vehicle. The only way they all fit was to have Sam basically lying on the floor of the cab propped against Dean with his legs hanging out and Cas standing on the running board to the side. Despite the noise of the engine, he could clearly hear Dean whispering to his unconscious brother.
"Remember when we were staying just down the road from where they were building those condos or whatever? And we snuck out one night to sit on the equipment and pretend we were driving it? Dad caught us, and he started up the excavator just so we could hear it run? For months afterward, you told everybody you were going to drive an 'elevator' when you grew up. I'll never say it again, but you were awfully damn cute. I swear, you got free ice cream every time you smiled at a waitress. We should see if that still works. That blonde who works at the Lebanon Denny's can't keep her eyes off you...and we will get back there, Sam, I swear it. You'll be fine."
Dean was so adamant that Cas almost believed it.
There was a muted thunking sound, and Cas knew that Sam was tapping his glass lightly against the table in thought. He could picture Sam with his legs stretched out impossibly far under the table, shoulders relaxed, and looking into his glass as if it held all the answers. "What would you have done, Dean? If the cure hadn't worked this time and I was stuck?"
Cas held his breath.
"I would've done whatever you wanted," Dean said smoothly. "You weren't really trying to kill yourself, were you? Instead of being a fanghead?"
"No, of course not," responded Sam, just as smoothly.
"Good."
"Good."
Cas finally walked away from his friends. His wonderful, self-sacrificial, blatantly lying friends.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Dean stretched until his back cracked all the way down. He felt pretty damn fine after two days of nothing but eating and lying around the bunker watching movies and searching the internet for possible signs or sightings of Jack. Sam hadn't been up for much more than that, despite his repeated assertions that he was fine. Yeah, so fine that he spent as much time asleep as he did awake. Still, he now looked and acted well enough that the residual fear Dean felt had mostly faded. And sharing a nightcap with Sam made Dean feel like things were returning to normal.
After a discussion with Cas about not leaving Sam behind ever, Dean had even thanked the angel. For coming when they called, for not letting Dean fall into the river, and for healing both brothers. Maybe Sam was right and Dean didn't say things like thank you and I'm sorry often enough. Maybe. He couldn't do it too often, though, or people would start to expect it.
Dean cleared up their glasses but decided to leave out the papers and other stuff that Sam had left behind. He'd probably put it away in the wrong place anyway, and he hadn't let Sam stop to pack any of it up when he'd encouraged (not bullied, like Sam would probably say) him to go to bed. The guy had kept nodding over his drink. It wasn't rocket science to figure out that he needed rest.
As he walked past the table where Sam had been working, Dean glanced at the information cards Sam had left out. His brother was fastidious almost to the point of obsession with keeping their records updated after every new Hunt. The one that caught Dean's eye was the card Sam had created for the special dagger Dean had used against Baako.
Sam had listed the dagger's name as The Heuchner, which Dean heartily approved of. Then, after the physical description and attributes of the weapon, Sam had detailed Dean's kill of Baako, mentioning both Dean and the vamp by name, as was his wont. But it was the last line that made Dean smile the most. Under Other Names by Which the Artifact May Be Known, it said The Van Helsing...and The Winchester Bloodsucker Ganker of Extreme Badassery.
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AN: The Rain Song is a ballad by Led Zeppelin.
Naomi's quote comes from season 8, episode 21, The Great Escapist.
Timelady66: I'm a typical insecure writer, so I never think anything is good enough, especially when I am doing a prompt or requested story. Bad habit of mine! You, however, have a wonderful habit of saying lovely things that encourage me and build me up! Thank you.
Christine: I know -- I couldn't stop with the torture just yet! Hopefully this schmoop made up for it. Hehe.
Janice: Thanks! I do like to throw in those little "explanations" from the Winchesters' childhood. and I'm glad you enjoyed this one. Don't sell yourself short...there are definitely stories that would have languished and died without you and your help. And in this chapter in particular, there are a few sentences that you suggested that are just perfect. (My favorite is Dean complaining that Cas was a tattletale!)
radpineapple: I know, I'm so mean! And I have to tell you that the line you love was an addition from Janice. She's really been on point in this story even more than usual with those little details that add so much. I can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me -- and I'm so so glad you've enjoyed this story!
sfaulkenberry: Well, when you lay it all out like that, I almost feel guilty for everything I do to Sam. Ha! Just kidding! You know I regret nothing...not even dropping our boy off a roof. I hope it's not a bad thing that Cas comes off as an outsider. I have that problem in my writing more often, where it's the boys...and everyone else. And where would be if Dean acted rationally when it came to Sam, right? :-)
waitingforAslan: Baako was such a creepy bad guy that I decided to kill him twice! Ha! Glad you liked the flashback. I think it's fun to consider the question how did the guys get like this? And of course, the "brotherness" is the heart of everything, right?
muffinroo: Whoa...epically wonderful? What a lovely thing to say! You're the sweetest. I'm not sure if this is the amount of comfort and schmoop you need / deserve! But here's hoping it went well with your candy and adult beverage!
Shazza: I'm glad that the angst doesn't drive you crazy. I had a commenter once ask why I can't ever let the boys be happy, and I was thinking: have they ever seen the show? LOL
Colby's girl: Thank you! You are so kind. The imagery was supposed to be gothic -- I'm thrilled that came through!
bagelcat1: Yay! It's one of.my favorite things when some tidbit in one of my stories becomes head cannon for a reader. Thank you for all your lovely support and insight.