Thank you so much Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading. Thank you all for reading.

Chapter Fifteen

Sam had walked for hours, the sun beating down on him but causing no thirst or flush on his skin. He had consistently tried to stretch his wings to take flight, but they seemed frozen at his back.

He had walked miles before he felt them relax and stretch, making him sigh with relief. He could fly at last, and he knew where he needed to go next. Someone had been injured by Michael, he'd heard it happen just before he was banished, and if Castiel had also been banished, it meant there was no one there to heal them.

He took flight and came to rest outside the bunker. The door was still hanging crooked, so he stepped through and moved it back in place, straightening the bent hinges. He figured it would hold against anyone but an archangel, and it hadn't been much defence against one before.

He walked down the stairs, treading carefully, and passed through the war room and library. There was no one there, and it made wings prickle with hope. If someone was dead, they wouldn't be sitting around the library, drinking. They would be with them, taking care of them, dealing with what came next.

He hurried through the halls towards the bedrooms then came to a stop outside Jack's room. The door was ajar, and Sam peered in and saw Jack sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Jack looked like he was hurting.

At least he's alive, Gabriel said. And you and I both know who was stabbed. It sounded like a man in pain, and who would Michael have a grudge against if not Lucifer? Whose body doesn't he need in tiptop condition?

Sam hurried along the hall towards what had been his own room and slowed as he heard voices, one of them the most welcome despite his personal feelings about what the angel had done to Bobby. Castiel hadn't been banished, which meant he was able to heal whoever had been hurt.

Which would be Nick.

"You should eat, Dean," Castiel was saying. "Nick is going to be resting for hours. It's better than he's not awake and in pain."

"You go," Dean said dismissively. "I'm not leaving him alone."

"He won't be alone," Mary said. "I'm here."

Dean's voice was angry as he said, "No! I'm staying!"

So, Nick was alive but injured. Had Castiel not been able to heal him properly? He'd not been able to heal the real Nick after Lucifer had been killed, but Sam had never been sure if he'd really been trying. Perhaps there was something about the injury from an archangel blade that stopped Castiel's grace working fully.

He hesitated a moment and then made his move. He entered the room, drawing all eyes when the door opened fully, and held up his hands when Castiel drew his blade and Dean jumped to his feet, positioning himself in front of Nick's bed.

On the bed, lay Nick. He was covered in a blanket, but his bare shoulders peeked over the edge and they were starkly pale. His breaths were even but not as deep as they should be. Sam knew the feeling of an injury pulling when you breathed, and he guessed Nick was compensating for that by keeping his breaths shallow, even while unconscious.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone," Sam said, keeping his voice even. "I want to help."

"Stay away from him," Dean snarled.

Sam took a step forward, and Castiel came at him from the side, his blade poised to act. Sam waved a hand, throwing him into the wall to slide down to the floor with a pulse of energy.

Mary darted forward and made a grab for the blade that had dropped when Castiel was thrown back, but Sam was there first. He kicked it under the bed and then touched two fingers to her temple. Her eyes slid closed and she became boneless. Sam caught her and eased her gently to the floor with a murmured apology.

"Get your hands off of her!" Dean shouted, coming forward with hands fisted.

Not for the first time, perhaps not even for the thousandth time, Sam admired his brother's bravery. He was coming at an archangel with nothing to defend himself but ineffectual fists.

Sam caught Dean's arm and dragged him forward then sent him into unconsciousness with a touch of fingers to his forehead then laid him down on the bed beside Nick.

"What are you doing, Lucifer?" Castiel asked, struggling to his feet and to coming forward again.

Sam ignored the question and moved to the other side of the bed. He pulled back the blanket over Nick and searched for the wound. There was a white dressing on Nick's right side, and Sam peeled it off and saw the red wound beneath. Someone had stitched it closed, probably Dean as it was his favored neat blanket suture.

"Couldn't you heal him at all?" he asked.

There was an audible click as Castiel swallowed. "It was an archangel blade. I healed the most serious injury, but it needed stitches."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll see what I can do about them, too."

He held his hand over the wound and concentrated on sending the grace into the wound. Light glowed and Nick drew a shaky breath.

"Lucifer, why are you doing this?" Castiel asked, his tone calmer than it had been, as if he was confident Sam wouldn't hurt them now.

Sam moved his hand a little closer to the wound without answering and concentrated. It took a lot of effort, perhaps because of the archangel blade's effect, and it was a moment before the stitches disappeared and the skin healed. Nick's color returned and his breaths came easier.

Sam straightened up, his head swimming, and stared down as Nick's eyes opened and blinked up at him. Sam saw the exact moment Nick realized who he was as he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening with shock and a little fear. "Lucifer!"

As Sam watched, taking in the face he hated but the difference in the awareness in the eyes, Nick tried to roll over, to get away, and collided with Dean.

"Dean!" Nick gasped, scrambling back against the headboard. "What did you do to him?"

"He's just sleeping," Sam said. "So is your mom."

"He's helping, Nick," Castiel said tentatively. "He healed you."

Nick's hands fisted. "Why would you do that?"

For a moment, Sam was going to answer, to tell him that he wasn't Lucifer, that this was all some twisted game of Chuck's, but sense held him back. Nick wouldn't believe him. It would just complicate things if they thought he was playing some game with them. They were going to have enough questions after what Michael had said to Sam while they were there, and he didn't want to make it worse.

"Are you really Lucifer?" Castiel asked.

Sam's lips parted with shock. "What?"

"Who else would he be?" Nick asked furiously.

"Sam," Castiel stated.

Sam sucked in a breath. Did Castiel remember something? He was an angel; perhaps even Chuck's power wasn't enough to change the facts completely. Was it possible that there could be a solution to this situation?

"The vessel?" Nick asked, his brow furrowed.

Sam's heart sank as Castiel nodded. It wasn't what he'd hoped for; it was just more confusion and wrongly drawn conclusions. Castiel didn't see Sam for who he was. He just saw the possibility of the vessel Chuck had created for the story.

Nick stared up at him with hatred, the same hatred Sam had felt for Lucifer. He sighed. Nick was healed so there was no reason for him to stay. All that was happening was that he was hurting himself being around them.

He reached for Nick's temple, moving closer when he cringed back, and sent him to sleep then turned back to Castiel. "Watch him," he said. "I'm not sure I did enough."

"Are you really Sam?" Castiel asked in return.

Sam stared at him for a moment and then shook his head, resigned to the fact it wouldn't help. "It doesn't matter."

"I think it does," Castiel said.

In answer, Sam spread his wings, wanting nothing more than to get away. He took flight, letting his instincts guide him, coming to rest at the top of a snowy peak he had no sense of geography for. He looked at the endless horizon and sighed.

He didn't know what to do next.

So… It was a short one, but it felt complete to me, so I ended it here. It's opened up a few questions and Castiel has a theory for them all to explore.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx