Chapter Three

Three months later, Dean figured it should have occurred to him, long before now, that the choice would eventually be taken out of his own hands. And all it had taken was one ghost's lucky throw; the corner of a marble gravestone taking the sudden and severe impact of his not-so-hard-headed skull. Lights out had swiftly followed.

And then… well, the inevitable.

He opened his eyes, once again staring through a veil of shadow, but seeing more clearly than he ever had as a human. Ropes and chains bound him tightly to the chair in the bunker dungeon with his brother and Cas keeping their distance beyond the iron devils trap on the floor. And the Mark is alive and humming on his arm; pushing for him to break free and satiate it with the spilt blood of the only human in the room.

Sam-meeeeee.

Glee pulsed through him at the torturous ideas zapping cheerily through his mind. He licked his lips in anticipation of what he's going to do to the insignificant little weakling when he breaks free of the chains. Hmmm. Such fun. But first… Dean tracked black eyes to the angel… oh, yes, first he's going to have a little extra fun, and then he's going to tear that fucking dick into an infinite number of pieces, never to be seen again.

He grinned.

Revelling in his thoughts, and with Sam and Cas too interested in whatever they're doing to pay him any heed for now, he utilises their inattention for his own benefit. They certainly try their very hardest to ignore him as he takes great pleasure in taunting them both with their failures; his immense enjoyment echoing off the walls as he watches little brother's shoulders tensing and hunching because of Dean's words lashing against him.

Little fucker always was a pain in his ass.

He laughs and taunts his way through the words Sam's chanting; ignoring the bowl held out in the Moose's hands. At least until it started sparking. Because within seconds searing pain ignited in Dean's veins. He writhed against the chains and ropes binding him in place. Feral screams tore from his throat as the pain lashing at every nerve ending in his body increased beyond tolerable levels.

It fucking HURTS! He's screaming.

He's BOILING from the INSIDE! He's screaming.

His VEINS are EXPLODING! He's screaming.

His HEAD is IMPLODING! He's screaming.

ITS. TOO. FUCKING. MUCH! He's …

… The lights shut off before the last scream rips from his throat sending the Knight of Hell into thundering darkness.

#SPN#

A groan slipped past his lips as Dean rose to wakefulness. Slowly cracking open his eyes, he swiftly snapped them shut again when pain coursed through every inch of his body. Breathing deeply to try and bring the pain under some semblance of control, he was more than grateful to feel it starting to ease after a short time. The reprieve allowed him to chance opening his eyes once again. The familiar grey concrete of the bunker dungeon and the iron strips of the devils trap drilled into the floor immediately blanketed his vision. Shifting his eyes around as much of the space as he could with very little movement of his head, he caught sight of a hand in his peripheral vision.

Dean slowly raised his head, his eyes snapping closed again, whilst another pain-filled groan released from deep within his chest. God, should this fucking hurt this much? Clenching his hands into fists until he felt his short fingernails digging into his palms, he opened his eyes and took in the hand connected to the familiar tan trench coat. The angel was sprawled on the floor and out cold from what Dean could see.

His heart clenched painfully as the memory of Sam's presence down here impacted him. He quickly shifted his head, this time able to ignore the pain as he found the spot Sam had been standing in with that bowl. His little brother was face down on the ground, eyes closed and face as white as a sheet. A puddle of blood was pooled beneath his head which Sam had undoubtedly smacked against concrete when his body hit ground. It wasn't the first time.

"Sam?" his voice is hoarse and his throat feels like it's been drenched with acid but Dean carried on calling his brother's name regardless. "Sammy?!" He struggled against the bindings, wanting them off so he could check his baby brother and Cas for injuries, though he couldn't see any clearly visible injury on Cas. "Cas!" He called hoping to rouse the angel. "CAS!" he yelled over and over, and just when he thought he was going to lose his voice he was finally rewarded with a soft groan. "Cas?" he called again, quieter.

This time Cas' groan was louder, the angel shifting where he lay, before slowly raising his head in Dean's direction. He blinked rapidly, eyebrows scrunched together. "Dean?" Cas' usual gravelly voice sounded hoarser as he pushed himself up until he was semi-resting on his elbows. "Is that… you?"

"Yeah, Cas, it's me." There was a nasty bruise on the angel's chin where he must have hit it against the ground. Dean rattled the chains holding his arms, or at least as much as they allowed. "Get me outta these things, Cas. Sam's hurt."

"I'll go to him first, Dean," Cas said softly, pushing himself up onto hands and knees. Each movement seemed to be painstakingly slow as he shuffled his way across the short distance towards Sam.

Dean watched as Cas reached out, placing two fingers to the side of Sam's neck. Dean didn't need the angel to tell him the kid was still alive, because a good deal of his focus was on the slow rise and fall of Sammy's chest and making sure it continued to do so, but he needed Cas to tell him how bad things looked.

Cas nodded to him a moment later. "His pulse is steady, Dean."

"Good." Dean allowed a small sigh of relief, knowing a steady pulse indicated his brother wasn't as bad off as all that blood made it seem. "That's good.

Tapping Sam's cheek, Cas called the kid's name over, quietly trying to rouse him. Dean joined in and after what had to be a good few minutes, they were both rewarded with a pained groan. Sam's limbs started shuffling against the floor in slow movements, an all too familiar waking for Dean.

"Sammy, wake up, kiddo!" Dean called out louder, heart leaping as he heard his name whisper through his little brother's lips. "I'm here, Sammy. It's me. C'mon now. Time to wake up, little brother!"

Sam groaned loudly, blinking open his eyes as he automatically moved to push himself upwards. Cas grabbed hold of him before he could face-plant back against the floor and helped sit Sam up, leaning him sideways so Sam's right shoulder rested against the tool cabinet. Sam blinked sluggishly, shifting his wavering gaze to his big brother.

"D'n?" he questioned quietly, hopefully, before hissing as Cas inspected his head wound.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," Dean repeated his earlier words. He frowned as Cas sank back on his heels, staring at his hands as if they belonged to a stranger. "Cas, what're you waiting for? Heal him already."

"I…" Cas blinked, eyebrows ever more prominently creasing together, "… cannot."

"What d'you mean you can't?" Dean questioned his tone filled with far more gruffness than necessary due to his concern for his brother.

"I mean that I cannot, Dean," Cas repeated. "I feel… strange."

"Strange, how?"

"Strange as in I might accidentally blow your little brother's head to smithereens if I attempt to heal him right now!" Cas shot back caustically, though Dean detected there was no real venom behind the words, just a whole heap of confusion.

"Ok-ay. Well …" Dean responded slowly, calmly. "… Sam's all good with his head just as it is anyway. Right, Sammy?"

Sam, too busy staring at Cas's hands that were a little too close to him for comfort, mumbled a simple, "Uh-huh," in response to Dean.

"All right, so no healing for now. How'd the wound look, Cas?"

"It looked to be only a superficial wound, Dean," Cas informed him, before glancing down at the dark red puddle on the floor, "but this is quite a bit of blood."

"Yeah, head wound's bleed a lot." Dean responded knowingly, hoping it was just that. "I'm sure it's just like you said, superficial. Check his eyes," he instructed, and though he trusted Cas with most things, he would honestly prefer that it was him over there checking his baby brother rather than being still tied down to this stupid chair. "Make sure they're not dilated."

Cas did so, gently grasping Sam's chin and turning his face to him. "His pupils are the size I would expect them to be, Dean."

Dean nodded knowing he'd need to flash a light in them once he was outta this chair. It only took the slightest of knocks to the head for Sammy to get a concussion.

"Do't feel l'ke got 'cussion, D'n," Sammy told him quietly. Considering the kids words were a jumble, Dean wasn't going to leave the credibility of them to chance. Sam's jaw burst open wide in a large yawn, which he made no move to cover. "Ch'ck on D'n, Cas," he mumbled.

"Will you be able to keep yourself upright, Sam?" Cas queried concerned, "We don't want you to injure yourself further."

"'M'kay, j'st tir'd," Sammy mumbled again, hand pushing sloppily against Cas' shoulder.

"Very well." Cas slowly pushed himself to his feet, one hand bracing against the wall as he stumbled towards it. He shook his head fractionally, blue eyes wider than normal.

"Cas?" Dean called to him concerned. "You dizzy?"

"Yes, I believe so," Cas responded heavily, eyes blinking rapidly. "I will be fine," he tried to assure but Dean didn't buy it.

Dean kept his gaze on Cas as the angel - with help from the wall - slowly made his way towards him; and out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Sam watching Cas' every move behind half-lidded eyes. Cas blinked again as he stumbled away from the wall and moved closer to Dean and the chair he occupied. Dean could only watch as the angel fell to his knees beside him, breathing heavily as if it had been a great effort just to cross the small distance that had been separating them.

And maybe it had. It was obvious the spell's casting had come with a huge amount of backlash; it had been cast on Dean and he should have been the only one knocked out, yet Cas and Sam had also been downed. The pain still running through Dean's body was strong, every movement he made triggering his nerves and muscles into reminding him of that fact; so if Sam and Cas had been affected by any of that, he was surprised Cas was even able to move about as much as he was, let alone Sam being semi-conscious.

Dean withdrew from his thoughts as he felt his chin being grasped by strong fingers. He stared into vibrant blue eyes. Cas stared back, nodding after a moment. "Not a demon?" Dean questioned having been wondering that himself.

He had made the assurance to his brother that it was just him, no demonic taint on his soul, and he honestly didn't want to be proven a liar. He no longer felt that homicidal rage that had been flowing darkly through his veins, just the guilt of having thrown those vicious barbs and taunts at his baby brother again – the guilt of remembering what his demonic soul had wanted to do to the kid. And to Cas. Dean wrestled back the nausea threatening to overtake him and stared imploringly at Cas.

Dean needed to know.

"No." Cas tilted his head to the side, "I can sense… something. But you are no longer a demon."

"The M'rk?" Sam's whispered words hit them.

Dean looked over to his brother before his eyes once again met Cas'. Then Cas was shuffling around him - practically leaning on Dean's knees in support as he went - until he was kneeling to the right of the chair and bracing himself against it. Cas grasped the sleeve of the shirt covering Dean's right forearm and shoved it none-too-gently up Dean's arm.

Dean stared, not sure if he was seeing what his brain was trying to tell him he was seeing. Weight on his legs drew his attention to his panting little brother as Sammy pulled himself up his legs to lean his arms tiredly on Dean's knees. There was sweat pouring down Sammy's forehead, but his face and eyes were open as he stared at the blemish free skin of Dean's inner right arm.

The Mark of Cain was gone.

It was fucking gone!

Sam turned his eyes to him, tears mingling with the sweat on his cheeks. Dean expected him to say something profound, but instead the kid buried his face against Dean's knees, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Feeling tears welling in his own eyes at the sight of his sobbing baby brother, Dean turned his tear-blurred gaze to Cas as he felt the release of the chains from around his right wrist and arm. The exhaustion written all over Cas' face didn't dampen the happiness in his eyes.

Glancing down briefly at Sammy and seeing him well and truly buried in his knees, Dean grasped the front of Cas' shirt and yanked him down, bringing the angel in for a quick, hard kiss. Cas' moist lips curled up into a brief half-smile when Dean released him. Slowly standing back up straight, Cas made his way around the back of the chair to free Dean's left arm from the chains.

Dean set his hands atop Sam's head and being mindful of the injury on one side, he called the kid's name, hoping he could draw the sobbing boy's attention to him. He failed. So ignoring the pain shooting up his arms, Dean leant down, hitching his hands beneath Sammy's arms. He was surprised to find it much easier than it should have been to lift Sam's exhausted sasquatch-sized body up onto his lap, and promised himself to get some food into the kid later. Sam immediately curled into him; and despite the kid's larger frame Sam still fitted against Dean just as well as he had when Sam really was the little brother. Resting his chin atop Sam's head, Dean unconsciously started to rock from side to side as Sammy continued to cry out all the emotions he'd been bottling in his normally emotive mind and body during their two year fight against the Mark.

"You did it, Sammy," he whispered into his baby brother's dirty and scruffy mop of hair, feeling a tear finally slide down his cheek. "You did it."

Having released Dean's legs from the chains, Cas rested a hand atop Sam's head and the other on Dean's shoulder. He transported them all out of the dungeon and to Dean's bedroom.

Recognising where they were immediately, Dean was too tired to even bitch at Cas for zapping them there without any warning. He toppled backwards onto the bed as soon as Cas released his shoulder, Sammy falling on top of him. Raising his gaze to Cas standing beside the bed, he silently asked for assistance in maneuvering himself and Sam up the bed. Thirty seconds later Dean's head was resting on his pillow, Sammy still clinging to him like a limpet. Dean knew from experience that his physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted baby brother wasn't letting go anytime soon.

Cas smiled at the scene; one that less than a handful of people in the Winchester's lives had been privileged enough to witness between the brothers. And as much as he wished to join them, he knew they needed this time together, and he slowly, if sadly, started to make his exit towards Dean's bedroom door, intending to find a suitable place to rest and recharge. He had only taken one step from the bed when fingers curled around his wrist. He trailed the fingers up to Dean's exhausted face and stared into familiar green eyes.

"You can stay, Cas."

Cas nodded slowly at the quiet invitation, shuffling to the edge of the bed. His exhausted legs gave him little choice in the matter when he collapsed forward onto the bed beside both brothers' as Sam was still mostly curled atop Dean and now sleeping a restful sleep.

It was only minutes later that Dean and Cas followed Sam into slumber.

#SPN#

Dean awoke to a tingling sensation on his lower right arm. Blinking open groggy eyes, he was presented with his little brother's face. Sammy's chin rested on Dean's chest, thumb lodged in his mouth as the fingers of his other hand wondrously traced the bare skin of Dean's inner right arm, where the Mark previously resided. Dean smiled lightly, wondering if Sam would ever realise just how young he looked like that. The kid did look better, a little more rested, though the dark markings beneath Sam's eyes were still brutally present. The kid's hair was a mess, and as he took in the clump of matted hair off to one side, Dean was glaringly reminded that his brother had smacked his head earlier. Guilt washed over him for not having taken care of it before they'd fallen asleep.

Reaching up, his fingers traced the area lightly for the cut amongst the dried flakes of blood in the strands of hair. He felt only a building scab across the scalp, though his probing startled a soft hiss out of Sammy, who quickly shifted to look at Dean fully with wide eyes.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said softly, offering a tired smile.

Sam gave him a dimpled smile around his thumb before he slipped the digit from his mouth, absently wiping the spittle on Dean's shirt. Dean smiled inwardly; this was a side of his little brother no one else ever got to see, a side Dean had only seen intermittently in the past fourteen years.

"Hi, De," Sam finally said, staring at him for a while longer before clumsy fingers started tracing over Dean's face. It was something Sammy had done since he was around eighteen months old. A silent reassurance of his big brother's presence. Dean had let Sammy do the same thing each time they'd curled up like this after Dean had returned to the kid these past years; just letting Sam reassure himself that Dean was really there, was actually real. It was the only time Dean willingly allowed his 'no chic-flick' rule to be broken.

Sam soon finished with his inspection and fingers returned to brush against the bare skin of Dean's arm again. "It's gone," Sam whispered almost reverently.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's gone," Dean whispered in return, giving Sam's waist a gentle squeeze, his arm wrapped around the kid from behind and ensuring the fidget didn't fall off the edge of the bed. "You did good."

Sammy nodded, not awake enough to think any further and Dean watched his eyes track to Cas still lying beside Dean, the angel's head resting on Dean's right shoulder. "Why's Cas sleeping, De?"

"I guess he was just as exhausted as we were from the spell," Dean responded still at a whisper as not to wake the sleeping angel.

"Oh. But angel's don't sleep, De," Sammy mumbled, laying his head back on Dean's chest so his ear came to rest over Dean's heart and slipped his thumb back in his mouth.

Dean could feel the kid's throat moving against his chest as Sammy suckled on the digit but his gaze was now centred on Cas, knowing his little brother was right. Angel's didn't sleep. He had known Cas had spent some time sleeping whilst walking around with stolen grace inside of him, but the angel had his own grace back now. He could count on one hand the times he'd seen Cas actually sleeping but that was because his body had been pushed to the point that he had passed out. Had the spell exhausted Cas to that bad a degree? If it had… Dean moved his gaze back to his brother's sleeping face, how in the hell had Sammy even been awake before the angel?

It was a question he would have to contemplate later because the allure of sleep was just too strong to ignore.