Thank you so much SamGirlDeanCurious for beta'ing and VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading xxx

Chapter Fifteen

They were walking through Purgatory in a single file, Sam at the front, leading the way and looking out for danger ahead of them, and Dean at the rear, constantly aware of every sound and movement around him in case it was a sign of impending attack. John was between them, his attention fixed almost wholly on the light burning on his arm. He was cradling a hand over it, and though Dean knew it was uncomfortable to bear a soul like that, he thought it was more about keeping the connection for John than pain. That was his son he was holding, the son he'd lost over a decade ago, and he was trying to soothe them both with the touch. It was such a tender sight, private, that Dean's eyes moved on quickly every time they fell on it.

Sam came to a sudden stop and John almost walked into him. The difference in the man since they'd found his son was stark. As they made their way to the entrance to Hell, he had been alert and poised for action. Now he had given over all trust to them and was concentrated on his son only.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam's eyes scoured the trees and said, "I'm not sure. I felt something… There!"

Around a grouping of trees to the right were two women sprinting towards them. Dean recognized them as vetala from the distinctive teeth and he remembered the last time he'd faced them: when Sam had been bleeding, tied to a chair, and Krissy trapped in the arms of one. That had been a close call and had Krissy not been fast and smart, it would have had a tragic end.

"Stay behind us, John," Dean ordered, moving to stand at Sam's side.

It was his instinct to run at them, to meet them and launch his attack, but he had someone to defend who was vital to the lives of a lot of people; it soothed Dean, in a way, since it was a version of his brother and Sammy always had to be defended, even if it wasn't his own Sammy.

The vetalas were smart enough to separate and come at them from each side, but Sam and Dean were practiced and fast. They both swung in unison and kept their attackers at bay. The vetalas dodged back and then seemed to decide John was the more tempting target. They both swung around Sam and Dean and came at him. Dean stepped in front of John, blocking one, and Sam tackled the other. He knocked it to the ground and then pinned it with his knees on its chest as Dean swung out with his blade, holding the second at bay.

There were dual screams of pain and the vetala facing Dean looked stricken. Dean moved into its space and swung with the blade, his aim a little low and the blade sinking into its arm. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw that Sam was forcing the machete through the neck on the one he'd pinned. He pulled the machete back and swung again, neatly decapitating it this time.

The body remained on its feet a moment after its head dropped, and Dean kicked it in the chest to send it falling back onto the ground.

"You okay, Sammy?" he asked. "John?"

"Yeah," Sam said, breathing hard as he got to his feet.

John made a stroking motion over the light in his arm and said, "We're fine."

Dean knew he wasn't including the Sam that mattered to Dean in his words. He was referring to himself and the soul he was cradling.

"Are we nearly there?" John asked, his hand making a soothing motion over his arm again.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We're close. It should be around that curve in the stream."

Dean expected John to hurry ahead, but he stood and waited for Sam to set off again before following. He was playing it smart, and Dean was glad. It had been a lot harder for them getting back to this place than it had for them to reach Hell, they'd been attacked more times, and he didn't want John rushing ahead and getting attacked without them there to defend him and his son.

They set off again, following the curve, and had walked perhaps fifteen minutes before Sam said, "Yeah. Right there."

Dean moved forward and saw the pentagram carved into a tree just a dozen steps away.

"We can call her now?" John asked, his voice hopeful.

"Yeah," Dean said then raised his voice and said, "Billie? You around. We're done."

She arrived soundlessly, her eyes amused as she looked at the light burning under John's fingers.

"You actually managed it. I wasn't sure you would. I'm assuming Lilith is still alive as Lucifer is still trapped."

"Yeah," Sam said, and Dean heard the same worry in his voice that he was feeling. "We didn't see her at all. We barely saw anyone. He only had one guard."

Billie frowned. "One?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking…" He glanced at John who narrowed his eyes. "Do you know if he's broken?"

Billie eyed the soul for a moment and then said, "In a technical sense, he is a broken soul. The damage done to him exceeds even your own soul, Sam. Whether his spirit is broken and he would now kill Lilith, I can't tell. It's safe to assume that he was no longer required in Hell, though, and that you were allowed to 'rescue' him."

"Will that make a difference to the trial?" Dean asked.

"No. An innocent soul has been rescued. When he is returned to his body and the incantation spoken, the trial will be done. You will need to be careful in what happens next though. There is a trap set somewhere, and I don't know what it is. They obviously want Sam on earth." She fixed her gaze on John who was staring down at his son. "Watch him carefully. I would suggest you lock him down until the last trial is complete—"

"Never," John growled. "This is my son and…"

"…But I know Winchester stupidity and stubbornness is going to oppose that idea," she said over his continuing words. "Do not leave him alone though. He cannot be allowed to go to Lilith, and she cannot be allowed to find him."

"Can she get into the bunker?" Dean asked, thinking of Asmodeus' incursion.

"Perhaps. Guard him." She smiled slightly, a small quirk of the lips that denoted amusement, not pleasure. "I suggest you keep the Nephilim with him."

"We will," John said curtly. "We'll protect him. Now, can we get out of there? I want to get him back where he belongs."

Which meant they had to find him first. Dean hated the idea of this Sam being soulless for his own reasons: he would have to face that again and have the reminders of his own Sam's time like that. But for the rest of this Sam's family, the people he loved and that loved him, he didn't want them to suffer that pain. Especially not Jessica. For her to suffer like that would hurt his own Sam, and Dean knew there was already too much of that waiting in the wings.

"Hold up," Sam said. "Do you really not know if he's soulless out there somewhere?"

"He is without a soul, though I don't know if he is as active as you were," Billie said. "Lilith may have incapacitated him some other way."

"What does soulless even mean?" John asked. "He's still going to be Sammy."

"No," Sam said. "He's not. He'll be a monster. He will feel nothing for anyone. He will have no emotional connections at all. People, even his own family, will just be a means to an end for him. He won't love."

Dean shifted uncomfortably and John gaped, perhaps trying to imagine his son like that.

"Perhaps not," Billie said. "Donatello isn't exactly a monster."

"If he really is me, he will be," Sam said.

"I don't want Dean and Jess seeing him like that," John said, a fearful note to his voice that sounded out of place in the man they'd been with so far. "Don't take us to them. Drop us off somewhere else and we'll find Sam together. I'll take him back to them when he's… Sammy again."

Billie shrugged. "If that's what you want."

She pointed a finger at the carved tree and a pinprick of light started at the trunk and then spread upwards and outwards. Without hesitating even a moment, John walked into it, one hand cupping the light on his arm, and Dean and Sam followed.

They came out at the end of the dirt track that led to the entrance to the bunker. Dean could see the gleam of light on the Impala's chrome in the distance. Dean got his feet under him and checked Sam was through then turned to look for Billie. She was watching them with a quirked brow and lips pressed into a thin line.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Yes," Sam said. "Thank you, Billie."

Billie nodded and said, "You have five days remaining to you now. I suggest you put that soul back where it belongs and then move on with the next trial. It may not be as easy as you think."

John nodded, his eyes fixated on his arm and said, "We will."

Billie disappeared and Sam cleared his throat. "Okay, five days…" He rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes bleary. "How are we going to find Sam?"

Dean didn't know, and his thoughts were coming slowly now that he was out of the clarity and sleepless environment of Purgatory. They'd been in this world for days and he'd only had the little sleep Castiel had given him when he'd knocked him out. Sam hadn't slept at all. They needed rest. None of them were going to get any before Sam was back in his body, but they had no idea how long that was going to take. If John wasn't letting his family be a part of the search for him, he and Sam were going to have to stick with him.

"We can use Castiel," John said. "When Sam was about to kill Lilith, he tracked him to that church."

"You don't have the Enochian on your ribs?" Sam asked.

John frowned. "Ribs?"

"That's a no," Dean said. "Perfect. We're going to need wings, too, so call your Cas. He can get us to Sam and he can put the soul back where it belongs."

John nodded and raised his eyes from his arm, "Castiel, don't say a word to Dean or Jessica. We're back, but they can't know yet. Come outside. We need you."

Dean looked back to the door, waiting for the familiar creak as it opened, but he'd forgotten how little his Castiel liked to waste shoe leather and apparently his counterpart here felt the same. With a faint flutter on the air, Castiel arrived and looked at John with wide eyes.

"Where's Sam?" he asked.

John moved the hand concealing the light burning under his skin and said, "It's his soul. That was all that they took to Hell. His body is here somewhere. Take us to him."

For a moment, Castiel just stared at him, and then he closed his eyes and nodded. "I have him," he said. "He's in Maryland still."

"He's still there?" Dean said doubtfully, wondering what Sam would have wanted from that place if he was soulless, unless he knew perhaps that his soul was now free and he was also prepared for Lilith's death.

John gasped. "He's alive though? He's got to be alive."

Castiel frowned. "I sense life, yes, but it is diffuse. I will take you there."

John cupped the light again and then they were moving. They came to rest in a room that Dean tagged as a hospital—even before his eyes had adjusted to the move—by the smell.

He looked around and gasped. Sam, the Sam they had come for, was lying in a narrow bed almost perfectly still. His eyes were closed and shadowed and there was a tube leading from a bag hanging beside the bed that fed into the back of his hand. He was covered in a sheet and blanket to the chest and beneath it, he was wearing a pale blue t-shirt. His cheeks were cleanshaven and his hair was about the same length as his own Sam's

"Sammy," John whispered, staring at his son in shock for a long moment before rushing to the bed and cupping his cheeks. "Wake up, son. It's me, Dad. I'm here. I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

"He can't wake up," Castiel said. "Sam is not present in that body. The part of him that matters is the part you are bearing."

"Get him back in there then," John ordered.

"I will," Castiel said. "You need to…"

He trailed off as the handle of the door turned.

"Hide, Sammy!" Dean hissed. Whoever was coming in was going to be shocked enough seeing a group of battle-worn people around the bed without seeing the patient's doppelganger there, too.

Sam ducked behind the door just as it opened and an attractive, middle-aged woman came in, "Hello, Johnnie," she said. "How are you feeling— Oh." She looked from John, positioned still with his hands on his son's face, Castiel at his side and Dean standing at the end of the bed, her eyes wide with shock. "Who are you?"

"We're…uh…" Dean grappled for an explanation but John was reacting without thought and he said, "I'm his father."

She blinked twice as if expecting them to have disappeared when her eyes opened, and then said, "Well… um… hello. How did you… How are you here?"

"We've been looking for him," John said.

She frowned. "Johnnie had been here over ten years and he's never had a single visitor. No one has ever come looking for him. No one told me you were here. How did you get past security?"

"What happened to him," John asked, straightening up from the bed to look at her, one hand still on his son as if claiming him.

"Johnnie was found in a church in Ilchester. He'd been badly beaten and was suffering from exposure. We have no idea how long he'd been there alone before he was found. He was treated in the hospital for months before his condition was decreed to be irreversible and he was brought here. His care is paid by a consortium of private donations. He's never…" Her eyes widened and John moved his hand over Sam's chest. "What's that on your arm?"

Castiel strode across the room to her and pressed his fingertips to her head. She collapsed to the floor without him making an attempt to cushion her fall and said, "We don't need this information. We need to return Sam to where he belongs and then leave."

"Okay," John said. "Do it. Put him back."

Sam walked forward, taking a knife from his pocket and handing it to John. "You need to set him free first."

John snatched the knife and cut slowly across the brightest point of his arm, his movements careful as if he feared injuring the soul beneath.

Castiel moved to his side and held a hand under his arm as the bright light of the soul spilled out like blood and settled in his palms.

"It's going to hurt," Sam warned. "Dean, help me bar the door. He might be loud."

Dean rushed to him, skirting the woman on the floor, and jammed his foot against the door and leaned his weight on it as the last of the soul slipped into Castiel's waiting hands and he moved them to a point over the supine Sam's chest.

"Sammy," John breathed.

Castiel looked at the brightness in his hands for a moment and then lowered them to Sam's chest. Dean had seen it before, more than once, but the sight of Castiel's arms shoving into flesh without spilling a drop of blood was still a shock. The Sam on the bed's head flew back and the cords of his neck stood out but he didn't make a sound. The scream that came from him was silent though no less horrifying. At his side, Dean's own Sam shifted his weight and looked away.

Castiel's hands pulled free and he stepped back. "It's done."

"Not quite," Sam said. "You need to finish the trial."

John pulled his sleeve down over the wound on his arm and stroked his son's cheek. "Sammy, look at me. Open your eyes."

"He probably won't," Dean said. "Sam was out for days after he got his soul back."

"We need to move him," Castiel said. "His body is wasted and weak. He needs to be healed, and I cannot do that. We should take him back to the other Castiel who can help him."

John nodded and removed the tube from Sam's hand and then pulled back the sheet and blanket then lifted Sam into his arms. He cradled him close, not even seeming to feel the weight, and his eyes were wet.

The Sam that Dean cared about most stepped away from the door and jerked his head at the woman on the floor. "Castiel, can you wipe what she saw?"

Castiel nodded and pressed his fingers to her temple again. "She will remember nothing over the last thirty minutes," he said.

"Let's go then," Dean said. "We don't want anyone coming in here looking for her and finding us."

"I'll stay here," Sam said.

Dean frowned. "Why?"

Sam looked pointedly at the version of himself in John's arms and said, "They need some kind of explanation for where he's gone. I can cover it. I'll catch up to you. Get him back to Jess and Dean."

Dean stared at him, seeing the tight lines of his face and understood. Jessica was about to be reunited with the man she loved, and he didn't want to see that. Dean wouldn't want to if he was in his place either. It was better that Sam stay here and let himself have space instead of being witness to the emotional outpouring that would only hurt him.

"Okay," John said curtly. "Let's go."

"You going to be okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam went to the locker by the bed and pulled out a folded pair of sweatpants the kind Sam was wearing and a t-shirt. "I'll be fine. Go on. Get out of here. I've got to stage a miracle recovery."

Dean nodded with understanding and said, "Okay, Castiel. Get us back to the bunker."

In the moment before he felt the swoop in his stomach of angel flight, he saw the shadow of sadness appear on Sam's face and knew what it meant.

The pain of losing Jessica, the pain that Dean had been scared of, had started for his brother, and he couldn't stay to cushion the blow.

So… Sam 2.0 is kinda back. He'll be all the way soon. Our Sam is going to hang back awhile and set up the cover. He'll be alone a while, but there's no way anything could go wrong with that, right? ;-)

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx