A/N: Hello everyone! Aaaaannnd the chapter you've all been waiting for: Dean and Cas rescue Sammy! Yay! On another note: is there some reason no one at all reviewed or otherwise responded to the last chapter? Please review or PM on this one! Thank you.
Chapter 32: The Prisoner of Azkaban
Dean stared at the room, which with Cas's words had taken on a decidedly sinister aspect, "The cage. As in, THE Cage? Michael and Lucifer The Cage."
"Yes."
"Awesome," Dean said sarcastically.
"He should not be seeing this. Psychics are limited to earth. I don't… understand."
"Well, you said this was some kind of 'super-premonition' side effect of Michael's spell," He shook his head, "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch." He walked through carefully, timidly, uncertain he really wanted to see what was happening.
He stopped, putting the back of one hand to Cas's chest to stay his progress, "Who's that?"
A metal cage sat in front of them, inside a pale-faced, platinum-haired man, his head bent to hold his hands over his ears and face, one light grey wing pulled around him protectively while the other hung useless from his back, obviously badly broken.
Cas knelt, studying him, head cocked curiously. "I believe it's Michael."
Dean stared, trying to reconcile what he knew of that individual with the rocking, shattered figure before him. Finally he walked up, hitting the top of the cage with a loud crash, "Hey! Mikey! Need to talk to you!"
"He can't hear you Dean."
The man glanced in Cas's direction, "What do you mean he can't hear me? 'Course he can hear me." Dean shouted again, "Come on, Mike. Don't be a dick."
He felt Cas's presence at his shoulder, "It's a premonition. He's not real, merely an actor in a play. Come on, we need to find Sam."
"Right. Sam." He followed Cas away, continuing to stare at the archangel, now collapsed on the floor sobbing, his good wing nearly hiding him from view. Dean almost felt sorry for him. He forced his gaze away, getting back on target.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dean spotted his brother's lanky form. He raced over to the table as quickly as his legs would take him, looking the long-haired man over. There were no visible wounds, but Dean knew that meant nothing. The physical form here was merely a mental construct that they could comprehend. Souls looked nothing like that. He took in the chains holding Sam in place, the red liquid pooling over the table's surface and his blood boiled.
Sam let out a faint moan as Dean's fingers brushed against a bond on his wrist. His eyes flew open and he started shaking, "No. No, please. DEAN! Don't- Please. No…" He continued to plead as Dean looked down at him, finally putting a hand on his shoulder, speaking soothingly, "Hey. Hey, Sammy, it's okay, I'm here now. No one's gonna hurt you."
"No. Please. Dean. No more, please…"
Dean looked at Cas, his green eyes begging for help, "It's his damn dream. Can't he make the chains disappear or something?"
Cas stood off to one side, obviously having decided this was something Dean had to do alone, "He can. But unless he takes control, we have to work within the rules of the dream."
"So, basically act like all this is real."
"Yes." Dean looked around, trying to ignore Sam's cries as he searched for something to free him. His eyes lit on an instrument table nearby, and he rushed over, perusing the all-too-familiar selection. He tried to force his mind away from thoughts of each item's use and what they must have done to his brother. Still, he felt bile in his throat as he picked up a long, thin knife, almost like a skewer, ignoring the memories forcing themselves at him. Yes, this would do nicely to pick the locks.
Sam screamed as he got closer, struggling at his bonds and pleading louder, "Dean, DEAN! Don't- No. No. I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. PLEASE! No more. No more. DEAN!" The man paused above him, staring down pityingly. Sam seemed too far gone to even realize his presence or intentions, continuing to struggle as Dean grabbed one wrist, not even reacting as each limb was released in succession. He lay there, splayed out, moaning and pleading the same as before. He didn't even seem to notice that he was free.
Dean sat down on the table beside him, ignoring the blood soaking through his jeans, and gathered the blubbering, pleading wreck into his arms, leaning the big man against his shoulder as he shook and continued his stuttered, staccato, "No. No. No. Please. No…"
"Do we have to go out?" Dean asked, trudging tiredly up the stairs behind his adult little brother.
"Well, we need some stuff from the store. Thought you might like to come with me." He stopped on the landing in front of the door, turning and dropping to a crouch to be on Dean's level, "How about I get you some pie. Would you like that? You could pick it out. I never know what kind to get anyway."
Dean glared at him, "Stop trying to distract me! Sammy's in trouble. I should be in there with him, not… going to the damn store." The last part came out a bit softer than the rest, an emphasis on the futility and general pointlessness of the latter activity.
"Hey! Language!" Sam's tone was slightly teasing.
"You can't tell me to mind my language. You're four years younger than me."
"Not right now." However the playful smile still on his face showed he didn't mean it. He stood up, opening the front door. Dean followed him out, still protesting. "Sammy's my responsibility. I should be dealing with this."
"You are dealing with it."
"That guy isn't me. Not… now-me. I don't know anything about him. And I've never even met that creep in the coat. That's Sammy back there, in their hands, and I just, I don't like it." Actually, he wasn't sure he trusted them, but he didn't know how that would be received. He paused, unwilling to say the next words, "I'm scared, Sam." The man turned back, staring for a moment, then scooped Dean up to set him on his hip, "Hey, he's gonna be okay. I'm still here, aren't I? Don't worry about it, Dean and Cas are more than up for the job, I promise. Let's go get some groceries."
Dean leaned his head on the man's shoulder as Sam carried him to the car. It was nice, Sam's secure, warm, safe, comforting hands gripping him tightly. Sam carried him with one hand, using the other to open the passenger door and set Dean down inside.
"And if you even THINK about complaining about me driving…"
"Why would I not want you to drive? It's Dad's car." Sam smiled through the hair hanging over his face, straightening up and walking around to get in the driver's side and turning the key in the ignition, "Words I never thought I would hear you say."
"What?"
"Nothing," Sam said as he put the Impala in gear, turning onto the road and driving away.
They sat for a few minutes, just remaining where they were, Sam pleading and Dean muttering soothing words.
Lucifer's voice drifted from elsewhere in the room, "So now you see how much he really hates you. I'm sorry Sammy. The truth hurts, but I guess we all have to learn the truth about our families sooner or later. Brothers are all the same. 'Course, you can't really blame him, you did ruin his life."
Sam stared at the archangel in abject horror. Dean recognized the expression all too well. Was this what Sam had been seeing all those months he was hallucinating? Lucifer sitting in some corner of the room, making snarky, horrible comments?
Lucifer turned towards Michael after a moment, speaking in a proud, almost conversational tone, "He said 'shut up' to me."
Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face, "Hey, HEY. Come on, snap out of it." No response.
Dean grabbed Sam's face, forcing him to look back in Dean's direction, "Don't listen to him. Don't even look at him. Listen to me. He can't hurt you, Sammy, he's not real. Hell, he's not even talking to you. Everything's gonna be okay."
"Don't hurt me. Please, Dean. Please."
"Yeah. Don't worry, I won't. It's okay."
"Please, no more, Dean. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me anymore."
Dean's brow knitted, slightly confused by the 'anymore,' but he decided they had more important things to worry about, "I said I won't, Sam. Don't worry. You're safe."
A second later Sam pulled away, a confused and bewildered look on his face, "You can hear me?"
Dean smiled, "'Course I can hear you, you moron." The other man broke down crying again and Dean concernedly grabbed his shoulders, "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Come on, let's get you out of here." He stood up, expecting Sam to follow. He didn't, remaining sitting on the table, head down and a defeated slump to his shoulders.
"What's going on? What's wrong with me?"
"What?"
Slowly Sam's face came up to look at him, "What's wrong with me Dean?"
"Well, how should I know?"
The trust shining in his eyes hurt as he spoke, "You're my big brother. You know everything." After a moment he added, "You've never lied to me."
Dean stared. He couldn't remember a time Sam had given him that sort of faith. They were pretty good now, closer than they had been in years, but still… lifetimes of lies and deceit had rendered such a bond as this unimaginable. It reminded him of exactly who this was. Despite his current appearance, this wasn't the Sam he was familiar with. This Sam was two years old, he still had some innocence and hope, and Dean would be damned if he was going to let that go.
"Please Dean."
It hurt, lying to him like this, but he didn't know what else to say. How do you tell a toddler about demon blood? Dean finally spoke, "There's nothing wrong with you, Sammy. You're fine. You're great." Thinking about it, Dean didn't know if he was lying for Sam's benefit or his, pretending, wishing it was true, that his baby brother had never had to go through that.
He turned toward Cas, planning to tell him to wake Sam up.
"No. I'm not. I'm not fine. I'm freaking out. There's something… inside me, and-"
Dean sat back down, "Listen to me. There is nothing inside you. You're fine, I promise."
Sam seemed to be getting frustrated, "Dean, last time I fell asleep I dreamed I tried to kill Uncle Bobby."
Dean blinked, "What?"
"We were in his house, and he was tied up and I- I had this knife, and I was going to- What's wrong with me? How could I do that?"
"You wouldn't, Sam. That's not you. Come on, I know you, don't I? You trust me? Okay, well, believe me when I say you wouldn't ever do that."
"I don't know what I think anymore. I mean, Dean, I dream all kinds of stuff. Monster's and- and people dying, and… one time you came after me with a hammer. What was that about?"
And top of the list of events Dean didn't want to talk about…
"Doesn't matter. Wait, you said 'last time you fell asleep.' How long have you been awake?"
Sam shook his head vaguely, "I don't know. Three days maybe?"
"You're two. How the hell could you stay awake three days?"
Sam shrugged, "Determination, mostly. I stayed awake for a week one time. I can't do this, Dean. I've tried, and I can't. Whatever this is… I'm barely surviving." He started crying again, "What is going on?"
Obviously Sam wasn't going to drop it. Regardless, nothing could be gained by hanging around The Cage any longer. "Hey, uh, maybe we should do this somewhere else. Hey, Cas, change of scenery?"
Sam turned to the angel, "What is he doing here?"
Dean started to explain, "Cas helped me out, got me in here. Without him-"
"He hurt you!"
Dean glanced from one face to the other. Fortunately, this seemed to be as much news to Cas as it was to Dean, "What?"
Sam shook his head, "It was in a dream. You and I were in a room, like usual, then this guy, he was a lot younger but it was definitely him, he just appeared in the middle of the room, said we had to go with him. You said no, then he put his fingers on your forehead and you fell down, unconscious. He kidnapped us, Dean! What the hell are you doing hanging out with him?"
Cas looked visibly shaken and guilty. Dean decided to defend him anyway. Yeah, he was going to get some answers later, "Listen, Cas has been a good friend. Whatever that was, Sam, you can't take it outa context. I'm sure there was something going on." He glanced at the angel, who didn't meet his gaze.
Sam looked hurt, "You're- you're believing this-" he glanced at Cas, "-Whatever he is… over your own brother? Dean, what…" He trailed off, Dean getting déjà vu. A memory forced itself at him, Sam's angry voice, "You chose a vampire over your own flesh and blood!"
"Sam…"
"'Course, he's not all that much better than that other guy you hang out with."
Dean was confused. He didn't remember having friends at that age. He looked at Sam, "What guy?"
"Oh, you know. The one with the dark hair and the bad attitude who drags us everywhere?"
Dean paused, "Who, Dad?"
Sam looked up, mild surprise apparent on his face, "Oh. Is that his name?"
Dean stared, "Wow. Uh, Cas, change of venue, please."
Sam looked back at the angel, "If the dream changes, will I still be… will I still be able to talk like this?"
Cas shook his head, "This is a premonition. If I change the dream, then your subconscious will take over and you will most likely revert to your current age."
"Then no."
Dean spoke warningly, "Sam."
"I'm not leaving here until I get some answers, Dean. Tell me the truth."
He couldn't do that. "Cas, wake him up."
"Don't you dare, Cas!"
Dean stood up, "Wake him up, dammit!"
The room began to fade into a bright white light. The last thing Dean was aware of was Sam's frustrated, desperate yell.
"DEAN!"
Dean blinked, hesitantly removing his hand from Cas's arm as the angel started to shift. They stared worriedly at the small form on the bed, as slowly Sammy's eyes drifted open, "Dee?"
Dean smiled, "Hey, dude. You okay?"
The toddler's expression changed to an intense glare, "GO 'WAY!" He yelled, jumping off the bed and running out of the room. Dean watched him leave, heartbroken. He had done it again. Sam had trusted him, asked for his help, and he had responded by lying, badly. Just like with Gadreel and Benny and a thousand other situations. How could he have done that? Why was he so stupid?
Cas spoke, "Dean-"
"Shut up."
The angel looked down for a moment, then spoke again, "Let him go, Dean."
"Dammit, Cas, what was I supposed to do? He's freaking two. How am I supposed to tell a two-year-old he's suffering psychic seeing-the-future crap because some jerk demon wants him to be Lord of the Douchewads' meatsuit? How am I supposed to tell him about demon blood, or that that crap he's seeing happens, or any of this stuff?
"Give him a moment. In time he will calm down and forgive you."
"I don't know, Cas."
Cas smiled, "I have spent a great deal of time with the two of you. The cycle never fails. You care too much about each other for either of you to leave permanently. Trust me, he'll come around."
Dean's phone went off and he dug it out, answering the call and putting it to his ear as he spoke, "Yeah, well, let's hope so. What is it, Sam?"
His stomach dropped on hearing his brother's tone, "Dean, we've got a problem."
