AN: Another chapter because this started as part of the last chapter, until I decided that it should stand alone. I sure hope it posts…and only once. I keep getting the message that the chapter isn't posting, but then it does…sometimes twice.

sfaulkenberry: Comments certainly make writing more fun! And it gives me way too much enjoyment that you like my goofy style and descriptions. And I'd give good money to have Sam go into a (censored, naturally) cussin' streak on the show! Now I want a t-shirt that says: Asshat of the Day. And I'm picturing Crowley wearing one that says: King of the Asshats. Here's some violent Dean, just for you.

Sam and Dean were nearly back to the hub when a low, non-localized rumble made itself known and Cas called for Dean.

Dean picked up their pace as much as he could, but by the time they'd made it down the two steps and he'd deposited Sam in a chair, the rattling had gotten much louder. It sounded like it came from the door, the garage, and maybe the boiler room. Dean's blood ran cold. It came from everywhere there was a way to get in. And naturally, their douchy prisoner was laughing again.

"I do not know what he is doing," reported Cas, looking both pissed and ruffled. "But the cuffs are not sufficiently curbing his power."

No duh, Dean thought, grabbing his gun off the table and pointing it at Robin. "Whatever you're doing, stop it now!"

Suddenly, the demigod's face looked more avian, though he was still in his human form. "Ssshoot," he hissed, also sounding less human. "It does nottthhhing to me. Your fancy rrrrestraints are for the Tuatha Dé Danann, my distant relatives. I will burrrn through them sssssoon." There was a distinct burr to his words now, and a shrill note that brought a crow to mind.

Dean drew the angel blade he'd never bothered to remove. "I bet this'll work."

Robin's eyes widened, but suddenly, Dean had other concerns. The door at the top of the stairs flew open, and a dark stripe of crows – normal-sized crows – flew into the bunker. Half a beat later, a second streak attacked from the direction of the garage.

Dean's world narrowed to a dark blur as they attacked en masse, a whirling dervish of feathers, beaks, and claws. He swung the angel blade but quickly realized it wasn't his best weapon. He began firing into the flock, making certain to shoot up to avoid hitting anything or anyone else. The birds were so thick that he simply swung the blade blindly and was hitting crows with every swipe. He even had to shake bodies off it once or twice.

In the meanwhile, it seemed like every bit of exposed skin was shredded. At some point, Dean realized that there were more shots echoing than just those from his own gun. Sam must have found (or remembered?) the gun holstered under the table.

The murder had thinned marginally when Dean caught sight of the engineer of his annoyance. He dove under the table, taking Robin out at the knees, and came up on his own knees, angel blade held firmly at the man's throat, the other hand fisted in the absurd pompadour. "Call them off or I cut your head off," he threatened, meaning every word. Robin didn't say anything, but abruptly the birds stopped attacking and flew up to circle near the ceiling.

"Open the door, Cas," directed Dean, seeing the angel was holding the door closed. Cas obeyed and as one, every living bird flew out.

Dean stood and pulled Robin to his feet too. He glanced over at Sam, who was bleeding from a couple dozen places, just like Dean. "You okay, Sam?"

Sam threw Dean a look that said it was a stupid question, and Dean supposed it was. "Fantastic." He dropped wearily into a chair, letting the gun fall to the table. He leaned his head on one hand, pain evident in every line of his body.

"I thought you weren't going to hurt Sam," Dean complained.

"I didn't," sneered Robin unwisely. "But for all crows are clever birds, they are only birds, after all."

"Why didn't they touch Cas?" Dean knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't care any more.

"They are afraid of him. They smell his wrongness."

Dean had had it. He tightened his grip, pulling the blade hard enough against Robin's neck that it was just shy of cutting him. "Enough, asshole. Put my brother back together and I'll kill you quickly. Or I start cutting and keep going until you do what I want anyway."

"I…I can't," Robin admitted, finally losing some of his cockiness. "It's done. Look at him – he's toast, unless, I don't know, he leaves and never tries to remember the memories he's lost."

"Memories you took," Dean clarified, his voice lowering to a growl. Sam had sunk down to rest his head on his folded arms. Minute tremors shook him. "Reverse the spell." Dean drew the blade lightly across Robin's neck, scoring the skin. "Look at that. You can bleed."

"It's not a spell!" Robin's voice had taken on a pleading edge. "It's just…an ability. Something I can do. It can't be undone!"

Dean drew another line on Robin's neck an inch lower than the first. "Then I guess it's time for you to lose your head."

"Wait!" called Cas suddenly. "I believe his is telling the truth. But…there may be something I can do."

"Is it dangerous?"

Cas just gave his friend a look that said naturally.

Dean sighed. "Of course it is. Will it hurt this nutsack?" He asked hopefully.

"Probably."

"Good. Sam, I don't see another option. What do you think? Sam? Sammy?"

Cas leaned over Sam, lightly touching the side of his neck. "He is unconscious, Dean. I think our time is short."

"Do it," Dean decided. "What do you need?"

"Nothing. Just to touch them both at the same time. I believe that the creature has, unwittingly or not, taken the memories into itself, and I can put them back into Sam. I don't have the time or the skill to be careful," he warned gravely. "It will take Sam time to recover and…unravel his memories. And some things may be lost."

"You mean like brain damage?" Dean clarified, a cold feeling in his gut sliding right over the hot anger.

"No…well, perhaps. But I believe Sam can figure it out. He just may lose some of his memories."

"It won't work," claimed Robin dismissively. "You may save his life, but he'll go mad."

Dean snorted. Robin didn't know his brother. "He's been there, done that, dug himself out. Sam can handle it."

Robin started to say something else, but broke off with a squeak as Dean manhandled him closer to Cas and Sam, kicking dead crows out of his way as he went. He shoved Robin down onto the table, pointing the angel blade at his left eye. "Don't fight him or I'll cut out your eyes."

Robin swallowed and nodded fractionally, going cross-eyed to watch the blade. Dean gave a nod to Cas, who seemed to center himself, then slapped one hand to Robin's forehead and set the other considerably more gently on the back of Sam's head. The light of his power started low, but slowly built until the demigod and man were both glowing. Cas' eyes went bright enough that Dean couldn't look directly at him.

For his part, Dean held his breath. And hoped.