Ch 35
True to his word Bobby demanded he be released from the hospital the next morning. Dean and Sam returned to the hospital as soon as visiting hours resumed. They waited patiently for the doctors and nurses to finish Bobby's paperwork and for the wheelchair he would be in for the foreseeable future to be delivered. Bobby for the most part sat sullenly in front of the small window in his room, eyes open but seeing very little. "We gotta do something to cheer him up," Sam said quietly from the hallway outside his room.
Dean nodded. "Maybe a stripper-gram?" he smirked. "Hey check this out. Went by radiology for some glamour shots." He handed his younger brother a large brown envelope. Sam looked curiously inside, pulling out a black and white film of Deans ribcage. His ribs and sternum were covered in Enochian sigils.
"What the hell?" Sam muttered.
"Yeah, well Cas did say he carved 'em into our ribs. You gotta a matching set little brother." Dean tucked the images back into the envelope. "When the hell are they gonna deliver that damn wheelchair?"
"I dunno-" Sam answered, his jacket pocket started vibrating and he pulled out his cellphone. "Hello- Castiel? You have a cellphone?…We're at St. Martin's hospital-hello?… I think he hung up on me."
Dean snorted, "I'm surprised he even knows how to use a phone." A moment later the trench coated Angel came walking quickly around the corner. "Hey, Cas. You know it's rude to hang up on people. And since when do you need to call us?"
"You're hidden from Angels. All Angels, including me," Cas said explaining it to Dean very slowly, "I won't be able to just-"
"Enough!" Bobby's gruff voice broke through. He turned his wheelchair away from the window to face the Angel. "Get on with it. Come lay hands on me. Get to healin'. I got things to do."
Castiel sighed deeply, his face falling slightly, "I can't."
"Excuse me?" Bobby asked dangerously.
"I rebelled. I am an outcast. I am cut off from Heaven and most of Heaven's power," the Angel said walking slowly across the room towards the older hunter. "There are certain things I can do and certain things I can not. I can not heal you. I'm sorry."
Bobby sneered at the Angel, "Shove it up your ass!"
Castiel sighed again as Bobby angrily turned back to the window. "I haven't much time. The closer I am to you two the more danger we are all in." He paused and watched a group of nurses rush past Bobby's room. "I know of your plan to kill Lucifer."
"Great, you gonna help?" Dean asked.
"Of course not," Castiel answered. "It can't be done. But I have an idea; there is someone stronger than Michael, someone who can stop Lucifer, stop the apocalypse."
"Who?" Sam asked.
"God," the Angel answered, "I'm going to find God."
"Try New Hampshire, I heard he appeared in an Apple Fritter." Dean quipped shaking his head at the Angel.
"No, God is not in any fried dough," the Angel replied seriously, "He's not in Heaven. So he must be somewhere else."
"Look, Cas, God is most likely dead or he isn't and that means he doesn't give a shit about any of us," Dean said growing more angry, "Look around we are literally at the Final Countdown and God's probably got his feet kicked up on some beach drinkin' booze out of a coconut."
Castiel's blue eyes flashed, "This is not a theological issue, Dean. This is strategy. With God's aid we can win the battle against Lucifer."
"It's a waste of time, Cas!" Dean snapped.
"I killed two angels this week. My brothers," Cas said stepping with in inches of the hunter. The tiny hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood on end as if the air around him suddenly contained an electric charge. "I'm hunted. I rebelled. For you! And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world. And I lost everything for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself." Dean swallowed thickly and nodded.
"Simmer down, Cas. My eyebrows are about to catch fire," Bobby grumbled. "You didn't come just to rip us a new asshole. What do you want?"
Cas took a deep, calming breath, "I did come for something. An amulet."
"An amulet?" Bobby asked, "What kind?"
"Very rare, very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It will help me find him," the Angel said.
"I ain't got nothing like that," the older hunter said thoughtfully.
"I know you don't," Cas smiled thinly and cast his eyes back to Dean staring pointedly at the necklace that hung around his neck. "But you do."
Dean tilted his head and brought his hand to his chest where the small, bronze charm hung. He had worn it everyday for the last twenty years having received it as a Christmas gift from Sam when they were both still children. "This? This is a piece of junk. Some hoodoo charm that Sammy bought from a Hippie."
"May I borrow it?" Castiel asked quietly.
"No," Dean said reflexively tightening his hand around the amulet.
The Angel raised his eyebrows at Dean's defiance, "Dean, give it to me."
Dean let out a small 'huff' and looked over his shoulder at his younger brother. "Fine. I'm letting you borrow it. I'm not giving it to you. I want it back so don't lose it."
Castiel nodded taking the amulet into his palm and staring at it reverently. "I'll be in touch." He told them tucking the amulet into his pocket and disappeared.
"Mr. Singer, I need your signature for your wheelchair delivery." A delivery man entered the room pushing Bobby's new wheelchair in front of him. Bobby frowned at the hunk of metal and rubber while he begrudgingly signed the required paperwork.
The next few weeks passed excruciatingly slowly for the Winchesters. They stayed with Bobby for the most part, retro fitting parts of the first floor of his home to be wheelchair accessible. Bobby barked orders and insults as Sam and Dean installed handle bars around the toilet, changed out a tub for a shower with a bench and even widened a few of the more narrow doorways. Once or twice the brothers broke away for a quick hunt, something easy to burn off the frustration of seeing their adopted father so broken.
Dean was getting back into the habit of drinking too much and occasionally stumbling out of a bar with some unnamed bimbo attached to his arm. Sam was quiet and withdrawn, guilt and sadness weighing heavily on his soul. There had been a few tense arguments over the last few weeks as well. Culminating finally when Dean told him that he didn't trust him the way that he used to, that he was hurt and let down by Sams betrayal of choosing Ruby over him. He spent most nights awake, staring at the ceiling of his childhood room or Baby's upholstered roof if Dean brought a 'special lady' back to their shared motel room. The nights he did get some sleep he was plagued with vivid dreams. Jess, his long dead girl friend, had begun visiting him. The dreams started innocent enough, Jess's beautiful face framed by her long golden hair, smiling at Sam as the lay in bed remembering the good times they had had together. The dreams were a welcome distraction and at first he didn't tell his older brother. Worried that Dean would see them as some sort of sign that Sam wasn't ok, that something dark still lingered in him.
"You still haven't talked to Dean about us?" Jess asked one night. She sat lazily in the bed next to Sam, her head resting on her hand.
Sam smiled, "What's there to talk to him about? This is all a dream…a good dream. But it's not real."
"Oh come on Sam, you know that's not the reason," Jess sat up and smirked at him. "You don't want Dean to think you're having those freaky demon visions again. He already doesn't trust you. Doesn't really want you around…"
"He's my brother. We're family. I'm not gonna give up that things won't get better. I have to have hope," Sam sighed sitting up and turning away from her.
Jess sat up behind him, one hand running through Sam's shaggy auburn hair. "Oh Sammy, things aren't get better. Not for you."
"How can you say that?" Sam asked.
"Because you freed me," Jess' delicate voice and soft hand were replaced by a calloused grip and cold tone. Sam jumped out of the bed and whirled around. His beautiful Jessica was gone and in her place was a man in his late thirties, his eyes were as cold as his voice and when he smiled gooseflesh broke out on Sam's skin.
"Lucifer?" Sam choked taking a step away from the bed.
The stranger smiled and stood up, "Glad you know who I am. You are one tough son of a bitch to track down, you know that?" Sam inwardly thanked Castiel for his warding. "You wouldn't mind doing me a solid and telling me where you are?"
"Yeah. That's not gonna happen." Sam answered all the while willing himself to wake up. "What do you want with me?"
"Sam, you are the reason I walk the Earth. I want to give you a gift."
"I don't want anything from you!" Sam shouted taking another step away from Lucifer.
"I want to give you everything…Nick here is plan 'B'. The guy can barely contain me without spontaneously combusting," Lucifer pointed at the body he wore. "I need my true vessel."
"What the hell are you taking about?"
"Sam, Sammy why do you think you were in that chapel? What do you think it was all about? Azazel, the other special kids, the battle to see who came out on top?" Lucifer asked silkily. "I needed the biggest and the baddest. I needed to find that one in a billion human that could be my Earthly vessel." Sam shook his head quickly, taking another step back and hitting the wall. "You. Sam. I needed you. You are my vessel."
Sam felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, tears fell unchecked from his eyes as the pieces fell neatly together. "No. NO. Not gonna happen."
Lucifer smilies sadly, "Yes. It will. And when I do find you, Sam, you will let me in. My heart breaks for you, Sam. The weight on your shoulders. I see the fear coursing through you. I can take all that away."
"You need my consent. I will never give it to you! I will kill myself before that happens," he promised.
"I'll just bring you back. As many times as I have to. Please know that I will never lie to you. I will never trick you."
"Why me?" Sam choked back an angry sob.
The archangel tilted his head sadly to the side, "Because Sam, it always had to be you."
Sam choked on another sob and finally shook himself awake. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat and shivered so violently his teeth clacked together. He stared at his hands for several minutes while a mounting sensation of dread built in his stomach. He knew he had to tell his brother and Bobby about this newest revelation. Sam stood on shaky legs and walked out of his cramped room into the second floor hallway of Bobby's house. Dean ambled out of the bathroom across from him at the same moment, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and rubbing a towel in still damp hair.
"I'm Lucifer's vessel," Sam blurted to his older brother.
The toothbrush fell from Dean's open mouth. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.
Breakfast was more tense than usual. Bobby sat silently for several long minutes, ruminating over the news that both brothers were Archangel vessels and what this could possible mean for humanity as a whole. Dean said very little; he was determined to complete the small 'to-do' list he had made himself which included a ramp leading from the front porch down to the junkyard. Just as he hammered the final nail into the ramp Bobby came careening down. He did a jaunty 360 in the dirt and threw a newspaper at Dean. The younger hunter pursed his lips, annoyed at Bobby's antics and wiped sweat off his forehead before picking up the paper.
"I figured it's about time you two go back to work," Bobby grunted as Dean scanned the article Bobby had circled.
"A bear attack?" Dean asked after a moment.
"Look closer, genius. Guys head was ripped clean off. He was found upstairs, the front door smashed in and no reported bear sighting in or around a five mile radius." Bobby grunted.
"What's up?" Sam asked walking out of the house to inspect the newly christened ramp.
"Bobby's got us a case…in Wellington, Ohio. Bobby we can't-" Dean started.
"Can't what? Leave me in peace for a god damn minute. I've had you two mother hens up my butt for weeks. Git the hell out and go do your damn job for a while." Bobby barked at the brothers before turning and pushing himself back up the ramp. "Fix this god damn pot hole before ya leave," he yelled over his shoulder pointing at a dip in one of the boards. Dean passed the paper off to his brother and moved to inspect the board Bobby had bitched about.
A million miles away a certain red headed hunter turned over in her sleep, arm outstretched and searching for the warm body that she shared the double bed with. Remembering that once again she was alone River opened her eyes slowly and looked at the empty space. She pulled the pillow Delilah, her now dead girlfriend, had slept on for the last six months close to her face and took a deep breath. The faint scent of lavender still clung to the cotton fabric of the pillow case and a pang sadness hit her.
It wasn't her turn to wake up early; she had no assigned duties for the day, it wasn't her turn to man the wall and Susan her only 'patient' had safely delivered a healthy baby boy a little past midnight the night before. She closed her eyes against the bright sunlight, pulled the duvet over her head and willed herself to go back to sleep.
The lull of sleep was just returning when a loud knock sounded at her door. "Winchester!" a gruff voice called out. River grumbled under her breath and burrowed deeper under the duvet. "I'm comin' in so don't shot!" The door swung open and in strode Sergeant Major David Davis aka Sarge. He was a man in his mid forties with bright red hair that he kept in an 'high and tight' military style buzzcut, a well manicured mustache and goatee framed a strong jaw, and a muscular body filled out the olive green tank top and cammo pants he wore. His intelligent green eyes flicked around River's sparse room and settled on the lump on her bed. He sat on the edge next to her and let out a long breath. "I know its your day off," he started.
River huffed in annoyance from under her blanket, "Then why the hell are you waking me up, Sarge?"
"The scouts are back. Nick wants everyone in front of the gazebo in fifteen minutes for an announcement."
"Son of a bitch. I knew this was coming!" River threw the covers off and stared at the man sitting next to her.
"Knew what was coming?" he asked.
River shook her head, "Nothing. Lemme get dressed. Is there coffee?"
"You know it. Now hurry your ass up." Sarge stood up and left her to get dressed in private.
"Jokes on you, Gabriel. I've read this story arch," River muttered swinging herself out of her bed. She rotated her neck and stiff shoulders and planted her feet on the cool wood floor. Her mind drifted to Gabriel again and she sent him a quick prayer, asking as she usually did for some sign or update of what was happening in the real world, at the very least she just wanted to know that Dean was ok. Gabriel had taken her off that street outside Chucks house and transported her into this little world. He disappeared without a word, leaving her to her own devices and to figure out her own way. She'd quickly figured out she was stuck in "Days Gone By", a zombie show that was based off a comic series she had read religiously for a couple of years. Her and Dean had only ever caught a few episodes of the show, it was on cable and most of the motels they stayed at didn't offer the channel. So far things had been happening in relatively the same order that she remembered from the comics giving her an edge over any nasty surprises.
Living through a zombie apocalypse was by no means a walk in the park, but seeing as though she was a George A. Romero fangirl, read every zombie book and watched every B-Movie zombie flick she could catch River was surviving pretty well. Her knowledge of zombies, medical care and experiences as a hunter had also given her a special set of skills that were highly valued. She carved a niche in this world. She had found a group of like minded survivors, good, decent men and women who wanted to build a life not just survive like scavengers. Their group had found a struggling settlement and joined forces. Together the settlement had started to thrive, they now had over 100 people. River was third in command, the primary medical provider and a valued asset on the scavenging and scouting teams.
After pouring herself a steaming cup of black coffee she left the house she shared with the six other survivors from her original group. Apparently the word had been spread that Nick was calling an emergency meeting because people walked in small groups towards the garden. River stayed near the back of the group, she already know the gist of the speech Nick was planning to give. She made a beeline for the brick wall that surrounded the back of the settlement, the garden some thirty feet in front of her, a small gazebo was used as the informal stage when important announcements were made. She leaned against the sun warmed bricks, groaning lowly as the heat helped relax the knots in her back, closed her eyes and took a long swallow of her still hot coffee.
Quiet times like this were when she could allow her mind to wander. She thought about Dean and Sam and Bobby and Cas and Ellen and Jo and even Rufus and worried again about what had possibly happened while she'd been stuck away from them. The smell of the leather jacket she wore and the hot coffee reminded her of Dean. The way his hair felt when she ran her fingers through it, the way the green of his changed when he was on top of her, the way his lips felt. A smile tugged at her lips and she continued with the naughty thoughts to pass the time. "What are you thinkin' about?" a deep, husky voice pulled her from her day dream. River opened her blue eyes and heard Nicks voice echo off the walls. He was explaining to the worried faces around him that their scouts and tracked the bat wielding asshole, Logan and his group of merry men to their hideout. They would strike the 'Protectors' in two days time. She turned to look at JT, the scruffy man leaning lazily against the wall to her left and turned her head to the right noticing for the first time Sarge standing there wiggling his bushy red eyebrows at her.
"Must been a nice thought, you been standing here for a good ten minutes already makin' all sorts of funny faces," Sarge laughed.
River shrugged her shoulders, "If you really wanna know I was thinking about getting my brains fucked out in the backseat of a '67 Chevy Impala."
Sarge and JT laughed again. "What would Delilah have to say about that?"
River bit her lower lip, thinking again about Delilah. The first and probably only woman she would ever be in a physical relationship with. Delilah, whose dark black hair and huge Elizabeth Taylor violet eyes had made her one of the most beautiful women River had ever seen. But it was her dirty sense of humor, their shared love of the word 'fuck' and the ability to talk about Tarantino movies for hours that attracted River. They'd moved rather quickly from friends to more than friends, everything moved quickly here when you never knew if you were gonna be eaten at any given moment. "Delilah doesn't have anything to say. Because she's dead, Sarge. Put a bullet in her myself, remember?"
Sarge shook his head, "Aren't you a fuckin' ray of sunshine?"
Nick had stopped talking and the crowd was dispersing. The three comrades could see him striding confidently towards them. Nick Stine was a good man and a great leader. He reminded River of a cross between Dirty Harry and Andy Griffith. Walking a fine line between justice and mayhem.
"I ain't got a Chevy but theres a Toyota Tercel down the street we could have a go in," JT joked. River threw her head back and laughed, she just might take him up on that offer depending on how the next 48 hours went.