Thank you so much VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading, and thank you all for reading. I'm edging in on 100 reviews now, which is amazing. When I start posting each multi-chapter story, I have a goal for 100 reviews. I never expected to reach it with this story, though, as it's such a problematic plot. What's great is that you've made it this far, so you're within touching distance of things getting easier for Sam. It's not a miracle in which they all suddenly remember who he is, but it's going to be a little better soon. Thank you for sticking with me.

Chapter Fourteen

They skidded into the garage, Nick still struggling to keep his feet after his near-strangulation, and Mary ran straight to the car.

"In," she ordered. "Get us out of here."

"No," Nick said, his voice rasping as he bowed over. "We're not giving up our home to them."

Dean eased him up by gripping his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "What? Nick, we've got to…"

"No!" Nick said again, his voice growing stronger.

He wasn't abandoning the bunker to those monsters. This was their place, his and Dean's, that was extended to include Castiel, Mary, and Jack over time. It was home. He wasn't giving it to the archangels. And he wasn't running from them.

"If they fight, they could bring the whole building down on us," Castiel warned.

"Then go," Nick said. "I'm not moving."

It was irrational to be so attached to a place that he was willing to be buried underneath it if it came down on him, but it still felt important. He had a feeling deep in his gut that if he left now, he'd never be able to come back.

Dean grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the car, and Nick yanked free, stumbling slightly. "You go!" he shouted, the words tearing at his injured throat. "I'm staying."

"Cas," Dean said.

Castiel nodded and came at Nick with his fingers raised.

Nick stepped back and held up a warning hand. "If you touch me, you'll regret it, Castiel."

Castiel looked puzzled, perhaps at the unexpectedness of the threat. Nick was usually the one that defended others, not himself.

He wished they would go, get somewhere safe, but he couldn't leave. He needed to be there to see what happened. More, he needed to hear what they were plotting together.

The need was intense, overpowering. He felt that if he wasn't there, it would end with them all dying. He started towards the door, and Castiel grabbed his arm again. Nick spun on his heel and swung a fist through the air, slamming it into Castiel's temple. Though he was weakened after Michael's assault, he was still strong enough with his rage to make Castiel stagger back a few steps and release him.

"Nick!" Mary said stridently. "What are you doing?"

"What I need to do," Nick said, running through the door and slamming it closed behind him. He turned the lock and shoved a cabinet in front of it. A part of him knew this was stupid, trapping himself away from his family so he was alone with two archangels, but he couldn't resist the compulsion to do it. The only way they were going to be able to fight was to know everything, it was the only advantage they'd have until Jack's grace replenished, and he was going to seize it.

He walked back through the halls, coming to the door to the library that they'd left ajar and pressed himself against the wall, his ear close to the opening, and listened to Sam's words. "And you can't kill me. I already know whose hands will end my life."

Michael gave a heavy sigh. "I see Death has been talking to you. She's refused my calls. I didn't expect her to hitch her wagon to you."

"She knows me," Sam said. "You're the bigger risk."

"Then why doesn't she kill me? We both know she's capable of it."

"Because she knows that's my job."

"Did she say whether I would kill your entire family first?" he asked.

Nick frowned. Lucifer had no family apart from Michael since he'd killed Gabriel and Castiel had killed Raphael. And Lucifer had shown no affection for either of them. There were other angels, barely a dozen of them, but Nick didn't think that was who Lucifer was referring to. Who was Lucifer's family?

"No, I already know that's impossible with me alive. She did tell me one more thing, though. I could kill you when it's time, but there is another way it could end. If I don't kill you, if I find the other part to what I need, I can send you back to your world so no one needs to die."

Nick held his breath. Lucifer could send Michael back to his world? That would solve one problem. If they could have him do that, they would be able to concentrate on Lucifer alone, save the world that way. The work would be cut in half.

Bobby would never agree with it, that world still had people that were his and needed to be defended, but Nick wasn't going to consult him. No matter how much he looked like their Bobby, he wasn't him, and Nick had no emotional connection to him or his fight. He cared about protecting his family, his world.

"Send me home…" Michael said thoughtfully.

"God didn't want you dead. If we can send you back to your world, he'll let you live, and he'll leave me to live in this world without my family." There was something strange in Lucifer's voice, some barely concealed triumph that Nick thought he only recognized because of years of hearing it around his screams in the Cage.

"Why are you telling me this?" Michael asked.

"I can't lose Dean, and if you get his consent, that's who I'll have to kill. Just because he doesn't remember, it doesn't mean I don't. I'd rather die than do that to him. I want this world safe, and I want you gone."

Nick's pulse pounded in his ears, making it impossible for him to hear what else was being said. Dean didn't remember… Didn't remember what?

Lucifer had beaten Dean to a pulp in Stull. He'd tortured Nick in the Cage. Dean remembered all of that. He'd tricked Castiel into letting him out of the Cage, and he'd stolen Jack's grace. None of that had been forgotten, so what was Lucifer talking about? And why did he sound so sad when he said it? It was as if what Dean didn't remember hurt him, as if he'd forgotten something good between them.

There had never been good between them. There would never be good between them. Lucifer was a monster, and Dean hated him.

But Lucifer sounded so genuine.

It made no sense, but at the same time, it felt right to Nick. He didn't understand it; he knew Lucifer, what he was and what he'd done, but what he'd heard made him doubt himself and his certainty. Was it possible Lucifer had changed after all and that this was his true self now?

"I… will think about it," Michael said. "I'll give you an answer when I have decided."

"You know I'll protect them," Sam said. "If you come near Dean, I'll hurt you. I can do that?"

"Will you really? You don't have the strength now. How are you doing to get more?"

Nick had heard enough. His mind couldn't take in any more.

He yanked the penknife out of his pocket and roughly cut across his palm, going deeper than he needed in his haste. The blood flowed fast, and he used it to daub a sigil onto the wall.

"There are ways to get power," Lucifer said, a smile in his voice. "I know them all. Do you?"

Michael considered him a long moment and then nodded and said, "You've given me a lot to think about, Sam. I'll be in touch."

Nick raised his hand to the sigil and was on the point of slapping it down at the center when a voice spoke behind him, and a blade pressed into his side, "I owe you this, at least."

Fiery pain surged through him as the blade was slowly shoved through his skin and flesh, and he cried out. His legs weakened, and he heard a flutter of wings. He locked his knees and focused his wavering vision on the sigil. With a supreme effort, he brought his bloody hand to the center and pressed it down. He felt the light pulsing from it, and then his legs gave out under him, and he collapsed.

As unconsciousness descended over him, his mind fixated on two questions.

Why did Michael attack him, and why did he call Lucifer Sam?

"Dammit, Cas, shift it!" Dean ordered.

Castiel slapped his hand against the door handle and yanked on it. There was the merciful sound of the wood splintering, and then the door tore from its hinges.

"About damn time," Dean snapped. Then, he cursed as he saw the heavy cabinet Nick had placed in front of it. What the hell had he been thinking?

Castiel shoved the cabinet, and it flew away, giving Dean freedom to run past it towards the library. He had no idea what he was going to find when he got there, what Michael and Lucifer would have done to his brother, but he was going to find him, fix him, and then kick his ass for pulling this stunt.

He turned a corner in the hall and raced up a new one, with the footsteps of his family on his heels. He came to the end and then a strangled cry ripped from him as he saw his brother.

Nick was crumpled unconscious on the floor on his side, a bloody stain on the side of his shirt and a bleeding hand at his side. On the wall above him was a used banishing sigil.

"Nicky!" he shouted.

"No!" Mary gasped. "Is he breathing?"

Dean focused on the slight rise and fall of his brother's chest and said. "Yeah, but it's shallow."

He dropped to his knees and tore off his shirt, sending buttons flying. He had barely got it off his shoulders, intending to use it to staunch the bleeding, all thoughts of Castiel's power fleeing his mind in his panic, but the angel's hands were already there. They pushed Dean aside and paused over Nick's side at the darkest point of the bloodstain. Light glowed, and Dean watched Nick carefully, waiting for the color to flood his pale face, but it didn't come.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Why isn't it working?"

"It's a wound from an archangel blade," Castiel said.

"You can't heal it?" Mary asked, her voice chilled with horror.

"I can, but it will take time. I'll have to do it in stages. Only another archangel could heal him without pause." He straightened up and said, "I have attended to the most pressing concern, his liver laceration, and slowed the bleeding, but the internal injuries are still severe. I need time to recover my grace before I can do more. It may take a day for me to heal him fully from this."

"But he'll be okay?" Mary asked, a tremor in her voice.

Castiel nodded. "The most serious injury is treated. I can hold off infection, and the blood loss will heal itself with time. As long as he stays unconscious, out of pain and resting, he will be able to handle it."

Dean patted Nick's shoulder, feeling the reassuring solidness of his brother, and said, "Cas, help me get him to his room. I want his wound stitched up and him settled somewhere comfortable."

Castiel eased his arms under Nick, and, with Dean's help, they got him up and carried him into the library and through to his bedroom.

Dean was wound tight with tension, and furious at Nick for putting himself in danger like that, running towards the archangels. But he would give him a pass if he'd get back on his feet fast and stop Dean feeling like he was choking on his worry.

It would be a pass, but he'd make sure Nick understood there was never a good enough reason to be stupid enough to trap himself and run toward the angry archangels again. That had been epically stupid and dangerous.

And it could have cost his life.

So… Some drama. Sam is back in the next chapter, and there will be a smidgen of face-to-face time with his family. I know you're probably eager for more, a connection, and we're getting close to improvement now. Just a little longer.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx