A/N: For any readers still left out there I apologise for the long wait. It's been a shitty couple months and my mind hasn't wholeheartedly been on this story, but now I'm back. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the reviews and favourite/follows for this story. They help me carry on with this story.
#SPN#
Chapter 15
Biting his bottom lip, Sam shuffles his way out of his alcove to peer more clearly over the edge of the ledge. Hunter trained eyes catch movement once again and Sam sucks in a breath before once again clamping a hand over his mouth, this time to mask the sound.
His eyes follow the steady rise of something scaling the wall like it is frigging Spider-Man.
And it is no demon.
A demon would not find it necessary to climb a wall when they can just appear in front of their target. And Sam does not sense anything from it.
Shifting backwards, Sam slowly withdraws his gun from the alcove and carefully makes his way back across the ledge to the furthest point from the wall. He pushes his back up against the beam, butt on the floor, feet on the floor before him, and unsteadily aims his gun. His right hand shaking from both cold and adrenaline.
He swallows as the creature rises up before him, hovering in the air, the glow of inky blue eyes flashing with electricity staring straight at Sam. Yet, Sam has the feeling the creature isn't physically looking at him.
Sam's attention is swiftly drawn away from those eyes as he sees movement lower on the creature's body. He can feel the pull of power begin, even as he tries to scramble back further as much as he can on this small ledge. Watching as weathered clothing and skin begins to twist and swirl at the creature's tummy; quickly growing and widening into what Sam can only liken to a sideways tornado or whirlpool.
And if he wasn't seeing it for himself right now, he doesn't think he would believe it. No matter what he has been witness to in his life when it comes to the supernatural.
Then purple and blue and white lightning starts flashing within and across the swirling mass, matching that of the creature's eyes. That power emanating from it strengthens, and with it comes the realisation that the sideways tornado has now grown big enough to swallow a man whole.
Sam finally fires his gun, the report echoing around him, because no way in hell has he any intention of being swallowed up today.
He watches in morbid fascination as the bullet is caught in the building swirl of the monster's tummy and disappears from view. He swallows sharply, pulling his gun back with the realisation that the only weapon he currently possesses is unusable.
His gaze snaps back to the creature before him as he feels a forceful tug, his feet beginning to drag across the ledge.
No, no, no, Sam silently and fearfully declines the invitation to take up residence within this new monster and flips himself over. He has no time to acknowledge the pain screaming up his broken left arm, only that he needs to release his gun; the weapon slipping off the ledge while Sam scrabbles to find purchase to keep himself out of the swirling mass behind him.
Only there is nothing; his fingers scrambling over small chunks of concrete that are not attached to anything.
Within moments the force of the building vortex yanks him away from the ledge. His right hand catches on a rusted rebar jutting out the side of the thick slab of concrete and he desperately grabs on tightly; gritting his teeth as the force of his body being pulled to a semi-stop jars his shoulder. His mind fighting to stop the pain from taking over as he is forced to bring his broken arm into play once again; feeling the bones grind together as he manages to curl the fingers of his left hand around the rebar as well.
The grip is weak.
Too weak.
The hold his right hand has alone will not stand up for very long despite him giving his all to keep himself out of that freaking sideways tornado thing. But he knows the pressure building ever stronger behind him will overpower him within only minutes.
And then Sam's adrenaline spikes higher as he hears an echo of his brother's voice within the whirring noises from the vortex, and Sam yells out for his brother. Fearing now, not only for himself, but for his brother who could easily be sucked into this thing if the creature turns its attention to Dean.
Only a second later the fingers of his left hand slip from there weak purchase and he scrabbles to hold back on. Now unable to prevent the scared little boy inside of him from surging forwards and screaming out, "De, help me!"
Because he cannot die like this. That thing – whatever it is – is going to take him, consume him, and then it's going to turn around on Dean.
And that's the least acceptable of anything.
The pressure is persistent, deepening and curling over his body until it feels like two giant hands are squeezing his chest, trying to crush his ribs into his lungs. He tries to draw in another breath, his body feeling like a huge and heavy weight, while his head starts to feel like its floating. His eyes start to close and he thinks words might have slipped from his lips - thinks he may have heard his brother reply - but his energy is being zapped too quickly for Sam to truly register it.
He has just enough energy left to make a silent wish for his brother to be safe, to live beyond here without doing anything stupid.
He wishes he could say goodbye.
And while he's wishing it takes him a moment to realise the relentless and crushing weight is lifting. He is able to draw a breath and his mind starts to feel less fuzzy.
But then he lets out a cry as pain slams through him, especially in his ears as the creature starts screeching.
Is it dying?
He can only hope so.
He then swiftly turns that hope towards himself as the pressure leaves him entirely, his body swinging downwards; a surprised cry alighting from his throat as his hold slips away from the rebar and he remembers he's sixty feet up.
He sends out a quick and silent apology to his brother, to Cas wherever he is, then he closes his eyes, feeling the rush of air around him as he plummets towards the ground.
#
Dean stands frozen, his brain already calculating the length of time it will take him to get beneath Sam's descent. And while not a genius at math in his head, he already knows it will take him and Cas longer than the barely six seconds it will take for Sam's fall to come to its end.
Dean knows he will never make it; even as his legs start to move him in that direction and his mouth opens to holler "SAMMY!" feeling Cas moving right beside him.
Dean's eyes are routed on only Sam.
He doesn't want to watch, yet he can't look away.
And then Sam suddenly jolts in mid-air as if his kid is attached to a bungee cord that had malfunctioned and forgotten to retract. Dean blinks in confusion, and before he can feel anything more – relief, concern, fucking grateful – his honed senses alert him to a presence behind him.
He spins on his heels. One hand curls around Crowley's throat and squeezes as he forces the former crossroads demon backwards into a wall, the demon knife sailing towards Crowley's chest.
"Ah, ah, ah." Crowley's quick and smirking chide brings Dean to an immediate halt just as he feels the tip of the demon knife pierce through Crowley's clothing and into his skin.
Dean holds it there, tilts his head to the side slightly and glares. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you right now?" he demands, voice low and controlled.
Crowley stares into the green eyes before him, darkened by hatred and rage and promised death. If he were a lesser demon he might be cowed by it. He has seen enough of that to know it to be true, but he's not a mongrel. He's the King of Hell. And what kind of King would he be if he didn't always carry an ace up his sleeve.
"Well …" Crowley begins, lowering his eyes slightly to the blade he can feel just piercing his vessels skin above its long dead heart, before raising them back up to meet Dean's, and intensifying his smirk. "How about… 'killing me will insure baby brother's demise'? But of course if that's what …" he stops because there it is, that splendid moment of realisation flashing through Dean Winchester's eyes. "Such a conundrum," he points out slowly.
Dean snatches the blade away, and sets it to Crowley's throat instead. "Let him down."
"Oh yes. I'll release my very means of continued existence so you can kill me." Crowley rolls his eyes. "Do be sensible, Dean. And a simple thank you would've sufficed."
"You want me to thank you after trapping my brother so you could send a fucking monster after him?! To use him as BAIT!"
"What are you blathering on about now, Dean?" Crowley questions. "It was just a couple demons …" Crowley grunts as he's shoved hard against the wall again.
"A fucking vortex trying to swallow my brother is not a couple fucking demons, Crowley!"
Dean quickly braces his hands against the wall before he can smack fully into the hard surface as Crowley disappears. He spins around, Crowley reappearing off to the side and brushing fingers against the hole in his black coat.
"This was brand new."
Dean puts the demon knife away and instead draws out another, intent on stabbing it in the bastard's neck this time.
"Did we not cover this already?" Crowley questions exasperatedly as Dean feels Cas' hand squeeze his shoulder, keeping him in place. "I'm holding your brother up there. All it will take is a click of my fingers, or a thought, or a blink of an eye, and you'll be scraping your baby Moose off the ground with a spatula. Are we all clear now?"
"You do anything but put Sam on the ground or that ledge safely, Crowley, and I will destroy you," Dean promises, glowering at the bastard before him.
Crowley tuts, before the smirk slips through once again, and a grunt of air leaves Dean as the familiar feel of demon power slams him in the gut like a punch. It sends him flying backwards into the wall he only moments ago held Crowley against, spasms of pain shooting across his lower back as he hits. His blade is knocked loose from his hold and clatters to the ground. Dean barely takes the time to register it all, however, as Cas slams into the wall beside him.
"Well, well, well," Crowley smirks, almost giddily. "The angel has lost its wings. Again. You …" Crowley trails off and his eyes jump from Cas to Dean, back and forth several times, eyes narrowing as he stares. "Oh for the love of… are you KIDDING ME?!" The King of Hell exclaims, spinning on his heels and snapping his gaze up towards Sam still being held in the air. "What the BLOODY HELL did you go and fuck up this time, MOOSE?!" Crowley's voice rises to new heights as he yells.
"What m-makes you t-think I did a-anything, Crowley?!" Sam's cold-stuttering voice echoes around the building, allowing all to hear him.
"Because it's always you screwing things up!"
"I take o-offence to that!" Sam responds without showing that Crowley's words have had any impact, even though they hit him right in the chest. After all, Crowley's right. There's always something Sam's screwing up. Hell, the very reason they are here is because of Sam's recent screw up. Same with the reason they are on the road hunting Rowena. "But hey," he continues regardless, "if what-whatever you t-think I've d-done is p-pissing you off this m-much, Crowley, then you're w-welcome!"
Dean cannot help the amused snort that escapes as the echo of his baby brother's words reach him. "What bugs crawled up your ass this time, Crowley?"
Crowley turns back to face Dean and Cas still pinned to the wall by way of his powers. He looks them both up and down, his glare twisting further. "I can't smell the Mark of Cain on you any longer, Squirrel. But I can still smell Knight of Hell power. Power that left you when Giraffe up there fed you human blood and turned you back. Meaning you'd have had to have become a demon again at some point in the past two months."
Dean remains straight faced and silent. Neither showing nor revealing the truth behind Crowley's words.
"And as for you," Crowley jabs a short finger towards Cas, and Dean can feel the former-angel's tension in the arm brushing his own. "I can't smell that filthy grace anymore. But you, too, have power. And both of you are holding those powers as humans."
Dean really wants to grin at the confusion coating Crowley's tone. But then Crowley turns around once again to face Sam.
"And you, Moose …"
"Hey!" Dean barks. "Point your demonic eyes over here, Crowley." Crowley turns back in Dean and Cas' direction with a roll of his eyes. "Why the hell are you doing this?"
"That's a very good question, Dean. Because, of course… I had planned on a more subtle method." Crowley flashes his cell phone.
"Then why the hell didn't you call?"
"Oh, but I did. Called you both even. Sadly, I received no response and I had to enact plan B."
"The phone was on and I didn't get a call from you, asshat."
"Well you wouldn't when something's interfering with it."
"Enough with being cryptic, Crowley," Cas growls. "What are you speaking of?"
Crowley sighs. He moves to stand before them, holding up his phone so they can both clearly view the screen reading 'Not Moose'; the contact Dean knows full well the dick assigned to his number. Crowley presses the call button. And with his phone in his pocket, charged and switched on, Dean waits for it to rumble against his thigh before the ringtone sounds, but nothing happens.
Yet Crowley's phone is calling Dean's. And when Crowley shuts off that call and proceeds to call Cas' cell too, the result is the same.
"What's that supposed to prove to us, Crowley? That you're as lousy with technology as you are at being the King of Hell? So I ask you again. Why the fuck are you doing this? To get Rowena? Newsflash, Crowley, we were already hunting the fucking bitch!"
"Oh, I'm quite aware of that, Squirrel. But a little incentive never hurts to speed things along." And with a click of Crowley's fingers, Dean and Cas can only watch as Sam is jerked forward and rolled over so he's hanging upside down.
Sam starts to revolve like a human spinning top and then the demons come.
Two long snake-like masses of black smoke, twisting and twirling around Sammy, who by the twitches of his right hand and feet is trying to jerk away, but Crowley's hold is still keeping him up there, spinning. Sammy's mouth suddenly snaps wide open against his will and he's choking as one of the two demons shoves itself down his throat.
Their worst fears coming to fruition as Sammy is so thoroughly unprotected. And Dean makes a silent promise that when this is over – and it will be over because that demon is not going to make itself comfortable – Dean will knock Sam out if that's what it takes to put the kid back in a tattoo chair. There won't be any begging or crying to get out of it. Not after this.
"Stop this, Crowley!" Cas demands as he and Dean struggle against their invisible bonds, to no avail.
Crowley half-turns towards them, smirk still in place. "Why?"
With a click of his fingers, the demon smoke pouring into Sam reverses nearly all the way out, before going back in and all the while Crowley watches Dean with that smirk. And Dean wants to close his eyes to it; to what the motion of Crowley's bastard demon is alluding to.
"Crowley, stop this! If you want Rowena so much just go get the fucking bitch! Leave Sam out of it!"
"Leaving the Moose out of it would be slightly counterproductive to my plan, Dean."
"What plan, Crowley?"
"The one where you denim-wearing lapdogs go play fetch. Did I not mention that already? You hunt my mother down and hand her straight over to my demons, without talking to her, and I'll leave Samantha alone. And if you refuse, well then… I don't mind breaking a few more of Moose's bones. He has so many. And see …" Crowley approaches Dean, and leans forward towards his ear, "… my boys up there are hankering to be the ones to wear Sam Winchester. To use him up until he's just a dry husk and then spit him out. And I can take him wherever he is, whenever I like. Just one snap of my fingers and that sweet innocence is all mine."
A protective and possessive growl rumbles from deep in Dean's chest, pissed as all hell, but all Crowley does is laugh as he pulls back with a glance at Cas.
"Or maybe I'll just keep Moose anyway until I have what I want."
Another click of Crowley's fingers and the second demon joins the first, Sam's mouth being forced open impossibly wider.
"Stop!" Dean snaps harshly. "Just stop." Crowley snaps his fingers and his demons withdraw from Sam, who sags down like a rag-doll as the demons back off. Crowley looks at Dean expectantly. "We'll do it. We'll find your whore of a mother." That smirk begins to form on Crowley's lips and Dean intends to wipe it off. "But if I see one demon trailing her or us… if you or they come anywhere near Sam or his bones suddenly break…" and Dean is going to find out what Crowley is talking about there, "… then all bets are off and I will come for you. I don't give a fuck who you are or what your death might start, Crowley. I will end you."
Crowley is silent, just staring at Dean. "Deal. But just so we're clear, you have two weeks."
"Four."
"Does this sound like a negotiation? You have two weeks. Or all bets will be off on my end of the deal."
Knowing he can do nothing else, Dean nods to Crowley's terms. "Now let Sam down, take your hellhounds and get the fuck outta here."
Crowley frowns at him. "Don't recall bringing any hellhounds with me."
Dean raises his eyebrows at the shimmer beyond Crowley, the hellhound making its appearance to prove Crowley's words wrong. Only as it appears fully, Dean realises he's the one that is wrong as he gets his first up close view of the beast that saved Sam from that vortex thing. Because this mutt doesn't have the pure black and sleek fur or red eyes of a hellhound, and actually more resembles a massive wolf. Its snout is long and its fur is black and white, almost blending into grey as it shifts. And its eyes are an ice-blue that makes it look even more vicious than a hellhound.
And then it opens its jaws and buries its teeth into Crowley's ass and Dean is hard-pressed not to laugh when Crowley lets out a squeal resembling that of a little girl. Releasing Crowley, the mutt backs off and Crowley spins around with a snarl, one hand covering his ass, and one leg hooked back to kick out at the mutt.
But Crowley stops.
"That's not possible," it's a murmur Dean barely catches and he frowns at the fear he hears behind it, gaze tracking from Crowley to the snarling mutt, whose buddy now appears off to the side. Slightly smaller, and lighter furred, but still as vicious looking with those ice-blue eyes ringed dark black. "It's not possible," Crowley repeats.
"What?" Dean and Cas finally snap together.
"The deal stands," Crowley snarls at Dean and Cas before promptly disappearing.
Before Dean can even blink, the pressure of Crowley's power relents and even as he's slamming into the ground, his gaze is focused upwards on Sam. He breathes a sigh of relief to see the kid no longer hanging in the air, but safely back on the ledge and clinging to the nearest concrete beam. Though as Cas gives him a hand to his feet, Dean frowns at the sight of Sammy heaving over the side, and nothing but bile coming up by the looks of it.
"Sammy?!" Dean yells up at him as his kid finally straightens and uses his sleeve to wipe over his mouth.
"I'm …" the kid gags and coughs, "'M'kay, D-Dean," Sammy responds, scratchy voice echoing off the walls. "You both g-good?"
"Yeah, kiddo, we're fine!" Knowing his kid is safe, though sixty feet up, Dean turns his attention to the mutts only to find them gone. "Where'd they go?"
Cas turns also, glancing around. "I do not know. But, Dean, they were not hellhounds."
"Yeah, got that. But how'd they do the invisible thing? Thought that was a trait inherent to hellhounds and, you know, leprechauns."
Cas' forehead deepens into a frown. "It is."
Dean raises an eyebrow. "Well, whatever. We'll figure that out later. Along with whatever the fuck that creature was. Right now …" Dean turns his gaze back up to his brother, "… we need to figure out how to get our little boy down."
"We should also burn …" Cas gestures at the body lying not ten feet in front of them that had been possessed by the creature, "… err… that."
Dean frowns, but really can't hold it against Cas for identifying the body as such. Because despite some of the human appearance having been returned after the creature was forced out, the body is still twisted too badly to even identify it as male or female.
"Yeah, we should do that," Dean responds lightly.
#
Sam rests his forehead against the coolness of the concrete beam he is once again clinging to, even as his wet clothes ratchets cold throughout his body. His throat is roar and burns as if he had downed molten hot lava. And he wishes he could say he doesn't recognise that feeling, but he remembers all too clearly how it feels when demon smoke invades and leaves his body.
It's something he thought he wouldn't have to face again with the protection tattoo. But then he lost that and he had been an idiot all this time to think he could get away without having it.
Closing his eyes, Sam steadfastly bites back the sob that wants to release from his pained throat. Tears won't help him. Or Dean and Cas below.
As it is, he can only be grateful that the creature hadn't blown out his eardrums with its dying screeches. He cannot lie and say his ears aren't hurting because they are. The twinges of pain are shooting into his jaw and giving him a slight headache that had not been helped by being hung upside down, spun around like a carnival ride and invaded by those fucking demons. He can feel trickles of fluid that he suspects is blood coming from his ears, running both into his hair and down his cheeks, so he knows it was definitely a close call.
He needs to know if the people at the library are safe. But he knows that is probably best left to when they're not having to yell sixty feet at each other and relying on the echo of their voices bouncing off the walls to communicate.
"Sam?!"
Though I guess Dean's happy to do so, Sam thinks before responding as much as he can through his scratchy throat and the cold shaking his body. "Ye'h?"
"You got something broken up there?!" Dean asks.
"L-lots of things b-broke up here, Dean!" He calls back, trying to deflect the question.
"Sam!"
Sam would unfortunately be amiss not to recognise the warning in his name. And though he is unsure exactly what Dean thinks he can do with the distance separating them, he doesn't underestimate Dean's ability to surprise him. He will not chance the possibility that Dean might suddenly and accidentally develop the power to telepathically swat Sam's behind. And he would really rather not experience a major headache or pass out on top of everything else today.
"Crowley b-broke my left a-arm!" Sam supplies. There is a moment of silence and Sam can almost taste the anger radiating from the two men below. He calls out before either Dean or Cas can start venting that anger, "Guys, I'm o-okay! C-cold, but o-okay. Just, um… g-g-get me down?"
"We're working on that, Sam!" Cas calls up and Sam need not be a genius to know he's currently the calmer of the two below.
"Hey, Cas!" Sam calls out tiredly and as loudly as he can, grateful the former-angel had postponed his journey to Vancouver to be here to have Dean's back.
"Hello, Little One!" Cas replies, and Sam can hear the gentle smile behind the words. "Please hold on!"
"Uh-huh," Sam mumbles, because that's kind of the obvious thing to do at the moment.
And he doesn't mean to be bitchy but … he frowns lightly as he feels wobbling beneath his left boot.
Glancing down, his eyes widen and he hurriedly moves to the right as a crack tears its way across the left-hand side of the ledge. Undoubtedly weakened by the pressure from the creature, Sam watches in trepidation as the chunk of concrete breaks away from the whole.
"L-Look out!" he yells in warning to Dean and Cas.
#
Still trying to quell his scorching anger, Dean looks up at his baby brother's yell, hastily grabbing Cas and shoving them both out of the way of the hunk of falling concrete. He winces, his heart heavy as it falls directly onto the body they were going to move, the sound of crushing bones reverberating through his skull.
He shares a look with Cas as they rise back to their feet. Cas shakes his head, confirming his own knowledge; the body is no longer salvageable to move for burning. They'll have to set it alight before they vacate and just hope the rest of the building doesn't go with it. Though Dean's honestly not fussed if it does. It wouldn't be the first building he's had to burn.
"Sam?!"
"S-still here," his kid responds shakily. "But I d-don't know h-how long this l-ledge is g-gonna hold out! That-that thing w-weakened it!"
"Alright, Sammy! Just hang in there!"
#SPN#
Dean scurries around in the debris of the ruined building, looking for something, anything, which will help him get up to his baby brother, or bring Sammy down to them. But Cas… Cas is just standing there, staring up at Sammy and murmuring nonsense about gravity and shit.
"Cas!" Dean barks, getting fed up. "A little help here?" He gestures around at all the crap littering the floor, skirting the pile of rubble now housing the body. "There's gotta be somethin' here we can use to fashion a kinda platform or a fucking pyramid even …"
"That will not be necessary, Dean."
Dean stills his search, rises straight and turns to his partner, a glare decorating his face. "And why the fuck not?"
"Because you and I are going to catch him."
"Why didn't I think of that? Oh, right! Because Sammy's a six-foot-four, hundred-something-or-other pound person who pretty fucking recently proved he can't frigging fly!" Dean hisses out angrily, stepping in closer to his partner to hopefully prevent the echo of their voices talking about this ridiculous notion reaching his kid.
"It is unnecessary for Sam to be able to fly for us to catch him," Cas responds bluntly with a frown, his calmness now pissing Dean off, even though earlier in the day it was all he had wanted from the other man. "You are forgetting what you are capable of now, Dean." Cas sighs at Dean's lack of reaction. "Have you not been carrying that hundred-something-or-other pound person around in your arms as if he weighs nothing for weeks now?"
Dean closes his eyes. Shit. Between his fear of Sam being sucked into a freaking vortex, the kid's near plunge to his death and Crowley showing up, Dean had completely forgotten he has a lot more than human strength inside of him now.
"The drop will only add a few extra pounds to what Sam's weight usually feels like to you and I," Cas continues.
Dean opens his eyes, turning his gaze up to his brother clinging to the column. "A baby bird into an eagle," he murmurs a guess as to how many extra pounds the drop will add to his earlier bird analogy for the feel of his baby brother's weight in his arms.
He hears a sharp intake of breath beside him as he sucks in his own air. Another portion of the ledge Sammy is standing on just crumbled away, the kid hugging himself closer to the beam once more as he calls out for Dean and Cas.
"Hang on, Sammy!" Dean yells up at him, his echoing words once again allowing them the ability to communicate with his boy despite their distance.
"… R-really… much else… d-do right n-now, D-Dean," Sam returns, and Dean can detect the edge of fear between the chattering teeth of each stuttered word that reaches him.
Dean turns back to Cas. "Are you sure we can do this?" he whispers urgently. "Because if you're not absolutely one-thousand percent sure on this, Cas, we're finding another way."
"You said it yourself, Dean, there is no other way. You already ruled out the fire department, scaling the building inside or out or climbing the pillars." Cas is the one who gestures around at the crap littering the ground this time. "Nothing here will be useful and I don't think calling Crowley back here is an option, do you?"
Dean hates that Cas is right and his idea is looking to be their only resort. Because asking his baby brother to jump off a fucking ledge sixty feet in the air and trust Dean and Cas - who probably look just slightly larger than freaking cats or something on the ground to Sam right now - to fucking catch him?
Fuck, they have done some crazy shit, but this… Dean scrubs his hands through his hair, indecision weighing within him. Because he knows this choice rests on his shoulders. If he gives Cas an outright 'no' right now, Cas will help find another way and won't mention anything to Sam. And Dean knows Sam should be the one making the decision, but he is not going to place that weight on his scared kid's shoulders.
So it is up to Dean.
"Fine," the word of agreement tumbles out in a rush. He clears his throat and tries again. "Okay. We'll do it. But you're telling him."
"Very well," Cas inclines his head briefly, before raising his gaze upwards. "Sam!" Cas calls, grateful for the echo the building affords. Otherwise he and Dean would not have a means of communicating with their little one. "We need you to fall!"
"What kinda telling him was that?" Dean hisses so Sam cannot hear him.
"Y-you need m-me to w-what?!" Sam stutters, the cold feeling as if it is eating into his bones, and refusing to believe his latter words came out more of a shriek than a yell.
"He means …" Dean stresses, and Sam knows his brother is shooting a glare at the former-angel for his usual bluntness. "… We're going to catch you! But you need to fall from the ledge for that to happen!"
Sam blinks into the wide open space surrounding him. Did I hear that correctly? They want me to fall from this freaking ledge AGAIN?
Dean and Cas glance at one another. After a moment they come to the silent and unanimous decision to start kicking and shoving away debris from the area they need to stand to give Sam a moment to wrap his head around what they are asking of him. It seems inevitable that they will more than likely end up on the floor, and they would rather not have anything closely surrounding them that could cause harm, especially to Sammy.
That is if Sammy can take that leap and trust Dean and Cas to safely catch him.
#
Sam is being asked to play the ultimate trust game here. A sixty foot drop of trust. And if it was anyone else but Dean and Cas down there Sam's immediate response would be, 'Fuck no! Are you outta your mind?'
But it is his brother and Cas down there and Sam trusts them both with his life. And if they weren't even one hundred percent sure they could catch him, this crazy idea wouldn't even have made a blip on the radar of options.
However, all Sam's eyes can see is a gaping hole in the ground amidst the slightly over-grown grass of an old cemetery. Lucifer trying to gain back control of Sam's body before Sam can throw them down that hole into the Cage waiting below. The sight of his broken and bloodied brother reminding Sam that he had never been alone (that Dean had always been there for him and never let him down) the only thing helping Sam to keep Lucifer at that wavering edge of Sam's control. While he prayed for all he was worth that he would not let his brother down again. That he could at least do this one thing right and put an end to the apocalypse he brought on the world.
Sam sucks in a sharp breath. The sound of his brother and Cas' voices bringing him back to the present and away from painful memories. They do not have time for Sam to get lost in his head; in the memories of worse than shit times when everything was fractured.
Dean is here; he is whole. Sam is whole. Cas is whole. Something is going on with all of them, but they'll figure that out. And Sam has to get his butt moving for them to do that.
"Okay, I c-can do i-it!" Sam calls down his agreement.
Dean and Cas both say something, but the echo meshes the words together too much for Sam to understand them clearly. But he gets the gist. It can only be their own agreement after all. Or maybe praise for being a big brave boy. Something Sam's not sure he is feeling right now.
Because is he being a brave boy if all he wants is for Dean to sprout wings and fly up here and fold Sam tight in his arms and fly them down to the ground?
That would be sensible and logical, right?
Sam shakes his head.
Carefully turning himself around in the limited space, while still holding onto the beam with numb fingers is a little difficult, but he manages it. Now he just needs to let himself fall backwards and plummet six storeys.
All in a day's work.
Yep, he does this kind of shit every day.
I'm brave as hell.
Except there was no being brave in Hell. Just a whole lot of screaming.
Sam swallows heavily as he glances downwards. He quickly looks away, slamming his eyes closed and feeling for sure the ground is even further away than last he looked.
He's never been afraid of heights, but forcing himself off a freaking ledge?
Backwards at that?
He definitely doesn't have enough adrenaline running through his system for this.
In fact, right in this second, he's pretty sure the blood in his veins has become liquid fear instead.
Of course the other option is to just wait here for the small ledge to give way fully, then he'll have no choice in plummeting back down to solid ground.
If he doesn't starve or freeze to death first.
"Sammy… take a breath, kiddo! You can do this. You've jumped through a stained glass window before with a good ol' drop the other side. This is a much better scenario."
"Tell t-that to my b-brain, De," Sam mumbles through his chattering teeth.
It is obvious to Sam that Dean believes this is a better scenario than when they took a dive out of a two-storey church window together, only because this time around Dean is down there to catch Sam. Rather than facing Sam hitting the ground alongside him. Hell, if Dean could have managed it and despite their discordance back then, his brother would have more than likely placed himself under Sam before they hit ground. Always believing he should be the one hurt rather than Sam.
One of these days his big brother might realise that Dean hurting doesn't help Sam in the slightest. It is in fact far worse to see his big brother - his hero - hurting than being hurt himself. Especially if it is because of Sam that Dean is hurt. Which is more often the case.
"Sammy?!"
"I-I'm okay!" Sam calls down to reassure the two waiting below, even though his heart is pounding a fast rhythm against his rib cage.
And he really wishes he could put his arms out either side of him. But with his broken arm, it is safer if he tucks them into his sides as much as he can manage. It will also offer less chance of flailing limbs hitting Dean and Cas. His entire body will be bad enough if they have misjudged their strength. He could squish them both into pancakes.
Jeez, brain, you are really not helping here, Sam scolds his own mind as he tamps down on the fear wanting to invade.
"Whenever you are ready, Sam!" Cas calls up. "We are here!"
Sam nods jerkily, even though he knows his brother and Cas probably can't see it. However, he's not sure talking would be a good idea right now lest his courage makes a play for escape through his mouth.
First ensuring his broken arm is tucked tightly into his side to best prevent further injury to the limb, Sam takes a deep breath as his brother had instructed.
He slowly releases it and again has to remind himself there is no Cage awaiting him at the end of this fall; no beaten and blooded big brother he's leaving behind; no red mist that was the only remnant Lucifer left of Cas.
There is none of that in the here and now.
Just safety awaiting him below.
A healthy and whole brother.
A breathing and present Cas.
Both standing strong; willing and waiting to catch him.
Sam has to remind himself of that as he closes his eyes and let's himself fall backwards before his fear can overtake him, while silently praying Dean and Cas haven't misjudged their own strength.
#
Watching with bated breath as his brother readies himself to make the plunge, Dean suddenly and involuntarily flashes back to the painful memories of a cemetery in Lawrence. A hole in the ground created by four rings and an incantation. Sammy opening his arms wide and readying himself to take a backwards plunge into Hell, to take Lucifer back to the Cage.
And if Dean's mind has gone there, you can bet your ass Sammy's has too. The kid does not need those memories lashing him and Dean can only hope this reminder doesn't bring back the worst of the nightmares. Not on top of the ones Sam's already been suffering lately.
Then Sam moves. And time slows.
His baby brother looks as if he is falling within a black hole, his body suspended in mid-air, moving only a fraction with every millisecond.
It feels like forever before Sammy's booted feet fully leave the crumbling ledge.
And all the while Dean feels as if his heart is beating in his throat.
And then time speeds up.
His baby brother, his kid, is free-falling.
And Sammy doesn't make a sound.
The only sound is the air flapping the kid's shirts around; an intruding noise in the face of Sammy's silence.
In the face of Dean and Cas' tense silence.
Hell, Dean can't think, let alone speak.
Can't breathe.
All he can do is wait.
Wait for the thud.
The weight and feel of his kid in his arms.
Sammy, alive and breathing.
Even if the force of his impact knocks them on their asses.
But Dean and Cas have already ensured Sam is cradled safely in their arms between them, their bodies cushioning his fall, before they even hit solid ground.
A hush falls over the desolate building, save for the harsh breathing coming from the three bodies as they lay where they fell. The filthy ground beneath them, and limbs sprawled under or over each other, but sheer relief flowing through them.
"Well that was awesome," Dean comments, amidst his chest heaving and wavering adrenaline, masking the fact he had been shit scared that this would not work despite Cas' reassurances to the contrary. He feels his brother and Cas' incredulous eyes on him and his lips quirk into a small grin. "We're just not gonna repeat it anytime soon," he adds as he carefully disentangles himself from his Sammy's long limbs.
"I would prefer never again," Cas remarks.
Dean shrugs, pushing himself upright. Never again sounds pretty good to me too, he thinks as he pulls his kid up with him while Cas sits himself up. He moves to bring Sammy tighter against him; just needing to feel the kid safe and sound in his arms for just a second before he starts in on injury inspection, but Sam presses a shaky hand against Dean's chest, pushing himself backwards to look at Dean.
"We a-all know the drill, Dean. You g-gotta test me," Sam informs them, still shivering from the cold and the wet clothes sticking to him.
"Sammy, there's no …"
"Dean."
His name is a plea, and the eyes staring at him are insistent, the kid just wanting peace of mind. And Sammy has every right to know it is only him occupying his body; as do Dean and Cas.
Because as much as Dean doesn't want to think about the possibility, and what it would do to Sammy to know it has happened again, they do need to be sure. Demons had invaded the kid and though they had departed Sam's body on Crowley's orders, there is no telling how many could have been present before Dean and Cas even arrived.
"Okay. Alright, kiddo."
Gratefulness washes the insistence out of Sam's eyes as soon as the words leave Dean's mouth and his fingers unconsciously curl into the front of Dean's shirt. Dean does not shift them as he digs out his flask of holy-water from his inner pocket; Sam needs that small comfort at the moment.
Cas brushes a hand down the back of Sam's head and the kid blinks, turning his head to look at the former-angel. Cas holds out a small torn-open sachet of salt and Sam opens his mouth, waiting for Cas to tip up the sachet and deliver the salt. Sam grimaces and Dean quickly places the lisp of the flask to his lips and tips it up, the kid rapidly swallowing the holy-water down.
Sam's mouth and person does not start smoking, black eyes do not make themselves known, and Dean eases the flask down after Sam takes another mouthful and pulls it away.
"Urgh," Sammy's entire body shakes even more as he sticks his tongue out against the awful taste of the salt. "That'll f-forever be nasty." Even as he says it, the kid releases his grip on Dean to hold out his right arm.
"Sam, I think that was proof enough," Cas says, understanding the meaning behind the move.
"Not if it's a d-demon i-immune to holy-water and s-salt, Cas," Sam retorts.
Dean sighs; they really need to get the kid out of here and warmed up. But with a flick of his fingers, the button on Sam's shirt cuff is undone and he rolls the sleeve up slightly. He then uses the demon knife to make a small nick against Sam's inner right arm.
Because Sam is right.
There may be levels of demons immune to holy-water and salt, but the level of demon that would have had to have shoved its way down Sam's throat would not be immune to the knife. Only a few are; demons of a higher level. And Crowley is not stupid enough to let a higher level demon out of hell to possess Sam Winchester of all people.
"Oww," Sammy yelps the moment the knife pierces his skin, before quickly biting down on his trembling lower lip to mask it as he does his best not to flinch away from the sting.
"Sorry, baby," Dean apologises as he lifts the knife away from Sam's skin, guilt biting at his chest for having to hurt his little boy to show the kid he is not possessed.
And as much as Dean knows it is necessary, that knowledge never makes it any easier to do the things that are for his kid's own good. Whether it be nicking Sam with a knife, swatting his behind, taking his temperature or feeding him medicine that is disgusting, that niggling of guilt is still always there.
And thankfully as expected the cut on Sammy's arm does not come alive with an orange glow and the relief from all three of them is palpable.
Pulling a bandana out from a pocket, Dean quickly wraps it around the wound and ties it off. He places his hands either side of Sammy's neck, thumbs resting on his kid's jawline as he gently lifts Sam's dropped head back up to look at him. Sam's watery eyes dart everywhere but Dean.
"Hey. Hey, look at me," Dean instructs gently, and finally Sammy's eyes meet his. "There's no demon inside you, Sammy," Dean clarifies. "You hearing me? No demon."
Sam collapses forward, burying his face into Dean's chest, his shaking becoming all the more pronounced. And it only takes a fraction of a second for Dean to recognise Sammy has given into his tears.
Dean wraps his little boy in his arms, ensuring the broken arm is safe between them, before holding on tightly. Cas shuffles across the floor, cocooning Sam in from behind and lends his weight, both literally and figuratively to the reassurance and comfort.
"We gotcha, baby," Dean murmurs, the hand resting at the back of Sam's neck giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "We gotcha. You're okay."
"You're safe now, Little One," Cas croons against Sam's ear, pressing a kiss to the side of Sam's head.
Yeah, safe now, Dean thinks as he gets a good grip on his crying boy and pushes himself up to standing, Sam's legs automatically winding around Dean's waist. And as he carries his kid out of the building, Cas leading the way with angel blade and gun at the ready, Dean cannot help but wonder how long that safety will last.
#SPN#
Sam jolts to awareness as he feels Dean shift him around. The next second he's being set down on the front seat of the Impala, the leather welcoming. Dean slides in beside him, bodily – carefully – shifting Sam further across the front seat to the passenger side.
It is only then that Sam realises his working hand is still curled into Dean's jacket in a vice grip; only then that he realises his face is wet with tears.
Sam hears the passenger door open, and the driver door close. The throbbing in his skull making itself known. He can only hope it's a result of being so cold and wet for hours, and the creature's dying screeching, and not a building migraine. They can knock him for six for days. Not unlike the headaches he experienced when Dean or Cas were using their powers.
An unintentional whimper of panic leaves Sam's throat when Dean carefully shifts him around so he's facing Cas stood in the open passenger door.
"Shh, you're okay, Sammy. I gotcha, baby," Dean murmurs against his ear soothingly, a hand splaying against Sam's tummy and pressing him back against Dean's chest.
It gives him the immediate comfort and stability he needs within the strength of his big brother's arms, while his hand still holds a vice-grip on Dean's jacket. His other arm rests uselessly against his own chest, where he thinks it has remained since his fall. He certainly doesn't remember feeling that intense burning pain shooting all throughout his arm since before the fall.
"Cas is gonna secure your arm, Sammy," Dean informs him and Sam blinks at Cas.
The former-angel gives him a reassuring smile as he leans into the car, resting one knee on the seat while the other foot remains outside on the ground. Their thick army-green blanket is draped over his left shoulder. In one hand he holds a white emergency sling; in the other an unopened box of Children's Tylenol along with a medicine spoon.
Cas slips the medicine spoon in his shirt pocket, spoon end facing upwards. The bottle of Tylenol is set on the seat near Sam's hip. Dean reaches out and takes the blanket from Cas' shoulder, spreading it out and over Sam's legs for Cas to tuck around them.
Then with an efficiency born of Dean's teaching and having had Sam as a practise dummy on several occasions, Cas gets to work fastening the sling securely around Sam's left arm with minimal jarring to the injured limb. Sam feels his hair shifted out of the way and Cas leans further inside the car to tie off the two ends around his neck.
"Is that comfortable, Little One?" Cas questions, leaning back again.
"Mm-hmm," Sam hums, feeling Dean's fingers at the back of his neck adjusting the position of the knot.
Cas picks up the Tylenol box and removes the bottle. Giving it a quick, but rough shake, he opens it and pours the liquid into the medicine spoon. He holds it to Sam's mouth and Sam parts his lips, happily accepting the grape liquid as Cas tips the spoon up, emptying the contents into Sam's mouth. Cas gives him another spoonful before returning the bottle to the box and sticking the medicine spoon inside with it.
"We need to get out of here, Sammy. You set to go, bud?"
Sam nods sleepily, and readies himself for the warmth of his brother to disappear when he has to sit up. "J-just o-one thing," he whispers, his voice still shaky with cold.
"What's that, bud?" Dean questions softly, hand brushing back Sam's hair out of his face.
Sam's answer is to release his hold on Dean's jacket and shove two fingers inside his brother's shirt pocket. He's hoping it's in there, and when he feels the plastic and brushes the silicone bulb, he pulls away in victory with his puppy pacifier clutched between his fingers.
He's about to stick it in his mouth when Cas catches his wrist. He glares at the former-angel standing in the way of him and his soother, a soft whine leaving his lips as he tries to pull out of Cas' grip.
"Hold on, Little One. It is just a bit of a fluff ball," Cas tells him, voice reassuring, while Dean leans forward and captures the bulb of the pacifier between his own lips.
He gives a few quick sucks before pulling away and guides Sam's hand still holding the pacifier up to Sam's mouth. The nipple slides between Sam's lips and Sam sighs in relief, that gnawing need extinguishing with each forceful suckle upon the silicone. And as he returns his hand to its vice-like grip on Dean's jacket, Sam's only thought right then is of how much of an idiot he was to have given the thing back to Dean that morning.
His body is still trembling from the combination of both cold and fear. Fear he can now allow himself to feel in his brother and Cas' presence and care. So when Dean starts the engine and keeps Sam tight against his side by way of the strong arm around him, Sam doesn't protest.
He just lets himself be held, absorbing the comfort Dean's offering. Let's his slowing tears wet Dean's jacket. Let's his brother take his fear.
"Won't be long before we're at the hospital, Sammy."
His brother mentioning that hated place slams Sam out of his drowsiness. "No ho'pi'al," he stresses quickly around his pacifier, once again releasing his hold on Dean's jacket to grasp his hand instead. "C's." Sam gives his brother's hand a squeeze, expressing the skin to skin contact they have without saying it.
"No, Sam," Dean and Cas immediately and adamantly express in tandem, their understanding of what he's asking swift.
"I'd like nothing more than for Cas to be able to heal you, kiddo, but its outta the question. Not with our powers having the effect they have on you, Sammy."
"B't…" Sam stops when Dean pulls the pacifier from his mouth, his lips chasing after it. Sam tilts his head back to glare up at his brother.
"But?" Dean prompts.
Sam lowers his gaze and continues voicing what he was going to say, seeing as it looks like he isn't getting his pacifier back until he does. "But we've gotta get after Rowena."
"I know, bud. And we will. But we're getting your arm seen to and your body and mind protected from possession. That is our first priority over looking for that bitch right now." Dean's tone speaks of how much Sam is not to argue against that planned course of action.
No matter how much Sam wants to.
"And have a discussion with our little boy," Cas reminds, Sam's kidnapping having clearly not addled his mind to the memory of Sam's misbehaviour that led to this mess.
Sam wriggles uncomfortably at the reminder of his impending punishment, a faint blush heating his cheeks. He wants to ask if the hairbrush is going to be coming into the picture at any point during that punishment, but he doesn't want to bring it up. Just in case Dean hasn't even thought about it.
"Somewhere in there we'll get to that discussion," Dean firmly let's both of them know, strong yet gentle arms stilling Sam's movements.
"'M not little boy," Sam feels it necessary to remind them.
"You certainly behaved like one this morning, young man. Running off like that."
Sam cannot prevent the fresh well of tears from spilling over at Cas' scolding tone. Not right now. Not after everything. So much for trying to tell them he's not a little boy.
"I just said now's not the time for this, Cas," Dean's rebukes, his tone resolute. And conveying an end to any further scolding Cas may feel like expressing right now.
A moment later Cas acquiesces to Dean's authority on the issue, the guilt in his voice prominent as he says, "Of course, Dean. I apologise, Little One."
"S'kay," Sam responds, wanting to appease Cas and reassure him that it is.
Even if the tears are still steadily trailing down Sam's cheeks and his breath is hitching. He is just being a stupid baby. And the stupid tears just want to keep coming. He sniffles, rubbing his face against Dean's chest to try and brush away the liquid wetting it.
"Shh, don't worry about any of that for now, kiddo," Dean tells him, the man's hand rubbing circles over his back. Sam's pacifier enters his field of vision and is held in front of his mouth for Sam to immediately latch onto. "Just try and sleep," Dean continues, "I'll wake you when we get there."
His grip tightens on Dean's jacket with fear when his big brother shifts. The logical part of his brain understands the man is just getting a little more comfortable behind the wheel to start driving one handed. But that little boy inside that Sam can no longer seem to stop surfacing is quietly screaming 'don't leave me!'
"Shh, I'm not going anywhere, baby," Dean is quick to reassure, understanding Sam's silent plea as his movement ceases. "I'm right here. I gotcha. Just close your eyes."
Sam's eyes flutter closed almost against his will at the soft direction and the comforting feel of fingers scratching gently at his scalp. He suckles his pacifier. A short nap does sound really good right now. And he's being helped along by the sound of his life's most treasured lullaby; the familiar and steady bah-boom of Dean's heartbeat beneath his ear.
"He's out," Dean says quietly a minute later, feeling and hearing Sam's breathing even out into sleep. "You good to do this?" He questions Cas, eyes flickering to the building briefly.
"Yes. I'll retrieve the needed items from the trunk, then I will deal with the body and meet you back at the motel," Cas informs him just as quietly, absently tucking the blanket about Sam's legs one more time.
"No, meet us at the clinic I'm taking him to. Give me your phone," Dean lifts his arm from around Sam and holds out his hand for the item. "We can't trust Crowley to hold up his end …" he takes the phone held out to him from Cas and inputs coordinates into the street map app on his partner's phone as he continues to speak. "… And he won't trust us to hold up ours. He'll have eyes on us, even if they don't belong to his demons. I'd prefer to have Sam protected as much as possible. And that means both of us." Dean holds the phone back out to Cas who takes it and frowns down at it. "Just hit the yellow button when you're ready to set out, it'll lead you to the clinic."
"Very well," Cas responds, pocketing his phone. "I will be as quick as possible."
"Make sure there's nothing left to find."
Cas nods grimly, and with one last glance down at Sam, closes the passenger door.
#SPN#
From the furthest side of the building ice-blue eyes silently watch as the impala rumbles down the street. The two massive beasts duck back quickly when the remaining human humming with angel grace turns towards the building and goes inside.
Bear will not be pleased we are just letting them go, the smaller of the two wolf-like beasts communicates telepathically to its companion.
Bear will be greater displeased when he is informed this thing has escaped its prison, the larger shoots back in the same manner, feeling the pressure pushing against his insides. The creature he swallowed to save the youngest Winchester trying to escape its new confine.
And what of the one inside the building?
He is of no threat to us. Come, the larger commands, we have bigger fish to cage.
Fry, the smaller corrects.
Hush, the larger snaps as they both turn and disappear.