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Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters or anything.

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"Bobby?" Dean said with urgency, "What happened?"

"Don't quite know." Bobby whispered. "Are you all you?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, rising slowly to his feet. "Course I'm me. Where'd Cas go?"

"Dean, I think he's possessing you."

"What? No, impossible." Dean said, but as he protested Bobby's claim he started to feel a slight sensation in his veins. "I didn't say yes. He's an angel. He would need my permission."

"All I know is, he cut himself open and a light ribbon of energy went directly from him into you." Bobby explained.

"Like his soul?"

"Beats me." Bobby shrugged. "Next thing I knew your lights were out and those things had control of Cas's body. Walked him away."

"Where?"

Bobby shrugged. How was he to know where those creatures were walking Cas?

"Sam!" Dean's eyes shot around the room, "Where's Sam?"

Down the hall Sam was pinned up against the wall. Lucifer was smirking at the sweaty, trembling, Sam.

"Isn't this fun?" Lucifer said with a laugh. "Like a great big doll house. And guess what Sammy. You're my favorite doll to play with."

Lucifer twirled a piece of Sam's hair around his finger a few times before yanking the small clump out from his scalp.

Sam wanted to scream, but he knew that would only elicit a giggle or smirk.

"This isn't real." Sam said in desperation. He tried to make it come out like a statement but there was still puzzlement behind the words. Was it real? Was he out?

"Of course This isn't real," Lucifer said, gesturing to the walls surrounding the pair. "Just some imaginative construction work. You and me pal. We're the only real parts."

"SAM?!" The name echoed off the walls. Dean and Bobby ran up to meet Sam. "Sammy, you ok?"

"Enjoy playtime with my Ken and Grandpa Ken dolls." Lucifer said motioning to Dean and Bobby like a game show host. "I'll check in on you later kiddo."

"Dean? Bobby?" Sam said. He cleared his throat and looked the two up and down. Then back up, into Dean's eyes. "Dean, your eyes."

"What about them?" Dean asked.

"It's ok Sam," Bobby interjected. "I see it too. You ain't outta your mind."

"See what?" Dean asked with growing annoyance.

"See for yourself," Bobby said handing Dean a well-polished blade.

Dean looked down at his reflection and almost dropped the knife in shock.

"What the hell?" Dean said turning to Bobby for an explanation.

"Must be whatever Cas did to you," Bobby said. "Let's get outta here and we can look into it back at the house."

"Yeah, sure. Wait, where did Cas go?" Dean asked.

"One way to find out. If we find him, I ain't so sure it's going to be him. Those Leviathan things took over." Bobby led the gang back to the black gooey footprints and they followed them outside to a body of water. Municipal drinking waters. They arrived just in time to see the last inch of Castiel's head drop below the water. A swirl of black exploded outwards before sucking back in and down.

"Ah, hell," Bobby muttered.

"Great." Dean said, running a hand through his hair, "Just great."

The three men stood watching the water in silence. A bird chirped in the distance, it just chirped away, as if this were a perfectly normal day; as if Castiel hadn't become the carrier for thousands of ancient creatures and then dissolved into nothingness.

"I'll, uh, get the car started." Bobby gave Dean a pat on the back before turning away.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said looking out at the water.

"It's not you're fault." Dean turned to face his brother, "How're you holding up? Honestly."

"Honestly." Sam sighed, "I don't know."

"Ok, well we'll take full inventory back at Bobby's." Dean completed a quick once over and noticed blood dripping from his brother's palm. "You're bleeding."

Sam reached up for the side of his head where Lucifer had ripped out a chunk of hair but said nothing. He was fixated on the water. Pieces of Castiel's body were floating across the surface of the water. Small bloody pieces of flesh. An arm, a foot, part of a ribcage, and then finally Sam saw the worst of it all: Castiel's head. It bobbed up and down like an apple in a barrel of water. It was awful.

"Sam?"

Sam turned to his brother, with a look of horror on his face expecting to see Dean in a similar state, but Dean appeared more heartbroken than disgusted and nauseous.

"Put some pressure on that hand Sam, you're loosing a lot of blood."

Sam nodded, but didn't do anything to stop the bleeding. Instead, he looked back out at the water, but the torn pieces of Cas were nowhere to be seen. Sam started to wonder if they had ever been there in the first place. The only thing left of Cas in the water was his trench coat. Sam walked forward and picked up Cas's bloody, soaking wet trench coat that had floated over to the edge of the water.

Without a word he folded it and handed it to Dean.

"Thanks." Dean said. He looked down at the item in his hands. Cas was gone, and he didn't know how to feel. Scared, sad, angry? He wasn't sure.

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Back at Bobby's the three hunters were able to finally take a deep breath and think about what had just happened.

Dean looked at his reflection in a mirror in Bobby's study.

"What the hell did Cas do to me?" Dean asked looking at the new pigment in his right eye.

"You feel any different?" Bobby asked cracking open a beer.

"No," Dean said. There was uncertainty in his voice. "Well, maybe. I feel like me. But awake. More awake then I've felt in years."

"Awake?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, you know," Dean shrugged, "like I got more than two hours of sleep. Like I was a kid again. Just more energy I guess."

Bobby handed Dean a beer. As soon as the liquid touched Dean's tongue he spewed the alcohol from his mouth.

"What is this crap?" Dean asked wiping the taste from his lips.

"Same crap you've been drinking for years," Bobby said. Bobby grabbed Dean's bottle and took a swig. "Tastes fine… You sure you're not possessed?"

"Yeah, Bobby, I think I'd know if an angel was possessing me, especially if it was Cas."

"Ok, so Cas gave you an energy boost and took away your taste buds?" Bobby said. He was trying to piece this whole mess together.

"Great. My one guilty pleasure. Gone."

"One?" Bobby said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, you're one to talk," Dean said. He looked to Sam who had been silently sitting on the couch ever since arriving at the house. "How's the hand?"

Sam didn't look to his brother. He was looking into the air next to him on the couch.

"Sam," Dean said louder.

Sam took in a deep breath then looked up at Dean and Bobby with confusion.

"Huh?"

"Your hand?" Dean asked again.

"Fine, it's fine," Sam said. His voice was quiet.

Dean pulled up a chair across from Sam and took the gimp hand into his own. He unwrapped the makeshift bandage he had tied on in the car to get a better look at it.

"It's deeper than I thought," Dean said. "We'll need to stitch you up."

Sam just nodded.

"Wish I could just heal it for you," Dean gently ran a finger over the cut. The cut closed.

Sam pulled his hand back in fear.

"What?!" Sam choked out. "Dean?"

Dean looked into Sam's shocked eyes with his own look of fear.

"Dude," Dean stammered, "I don't know."

Bobby stepped closer to the brothers for a better view.

Sam scooted away from Dean, unsure if he was even who he claimed he was.

"Look, I gave Dean-o angel magic! Fun huh?" Lucifer said with a chuckle.

"How did you do that?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know!" Dean looked down at his hands.

"Angel magic?" Sam asked Lucifer. But it was Bobby who answered.

"Yeah, must be angelic. Castiel's angelic power or grace?" Bobby took of his trucker hat and ran a hand through his hair.

"So I'm an angel now?" Dean asked.

"I don't know if it's that simple," Bobby said, "if it was Castiel's grace that went in you I don't know if makes you an angel, or just a man with an angel's powers."

Dean's mind was racing. Cas had said something about healing Sam. Healing what though, just a hand? Or the whole wall that came crumbling down? Because it looked like Sam was doing alright without the help of the Great Wall of Sam.

"I'll hit the books," Bobby said with a sigh.

Sam stood to follow Bobby over to the bookshelf.

"Sam, you should get some rest." Dean said.

"I'm fine." Sam said, trying to convince Bobby, Dean, and himself.

"You sure about that?" Dean said, "Because a few hours ago you were unresponsive with a broken brain on a cot."

"I'm fine Dean, I mean it." Sam said. He even managed to muster up half a smile. Even if this was one of Lucifer's made up worlds, Sam didn't want to be a burden to his brother. Dean had enough on his plate.

"Well if there was one break I was praying we'd catch, that's it."

"Praying? You?" Sam asked.

"Only when I'm desperate or drunk." Dean said. He poured back another swig of beer. Then coughed it out causing Sam and Bobby to share a smile.

"Let's fix this Bobby." Dean growled, "Now."

"Your liver is on its last leg," Dean said, retracting his hand from Bobby's head. "Cool!"

"My impending sclerosis is not 'cool,'" Bobby said while raising a glass of whiskey to his lips.

"No, but my awesome powers are," Dean looked down at his hands.

"Ok so healing, teleportation, heightened senses, invisibility, and the ability to diagnose with a touch." Bobby said looking down at his list.

"And I'm sure I could tap into that whole angel radio thing, but it's too confusing and loud."

"Cas never," Sam interrupted himself with a yawn, "never slept, right?"

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. "I'm not even tired."

"Most folks would consider that a blessing." Bobby said. "Speaking of sleep, let's call it a night. We'll pick this up in the morning."

Sam nodded and yawned again.

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean asked throwing his hands up in the air.

"House could use a good cleaning," Bobby suggested.

Sam tried to hide his laughter.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Dean said.

A few hours later, Dean found himself casually dusting the books in the den.

"No wonder Cas looked so miserable all time." Dean mumbled to himself, "couldn't ever get a good night's rest."

Suddenly, Dean stopped his dusting. He could hear Sam whimpering and tossing upstairs and down the hall. This super hearing could prove to be a blessing a curse. Dean, feeling the urge to hurry to his brother's side, opted to teleport into Sam's room.

Sam had a white-knuckle grip on the sheets at his side. Even though he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a thin shirt, sweat coated every inch of his skin. His jaw was clenched and his eyes pinched shut.

"Guess you aren't as fine and you thought," Dean whispered to his baby brother. He placed a cool hand on Sam's soaking forehead and instantly felt the urge to recoil. Upon touching his brother, visions of hell bombarded his brain.

"Oh Sammy," Dean said. He took a seat next to his sleeping brother. Dean shared in his brother's hell for a moment before realizing there was probably something he could do about it.

Dean closed his eyes and focused on a memory from a few years back. Dean was twenty-one and Sam was a sulky seventeen. Dad was on a hunt a few hours away and had called them up to fill them in on another nearby case that needed some attention.

Dean projected the scene into Sam's head and watched as visions of hell were pushed aside.

"So Dad dumps us here because his hunt is too dangerous for us to tag along on, but now he wants us to go stomping off into the woods on our own for some different stupid hunt?" Sam asked. He flopped down on the creaky motel bed. He was still adjusting to his new length and every move he made looked awkward and clumsy.

"Sounds about right." Dean said. He continued polishing his weapons and didn't bother looking up. He knew exactly what kind of face Sam was wearing.

"That doesn't make you mad?" Sam asked. He didn't wait for an answer, "Of course it doesn't. You're dad's perfect little soldier. You would never question General John Winchester."

"Shut up Sam," Dean said.

"Why do we have to jump at his every command?" Sam asked. "Why does he get to control every single day of our lives?"

"He's our dad." Dean said.

"So what?" Sam countered. "He's just our dad. He's not our warden. He's not our parole officer. He's not God."

"Sam," Dean ran a hand down his face, "what do you want me to say?"

Sam only took a long deep breath. It wasn't until minutes later that he spoke again.

"I just wish we could do something, anything, without dad breathing down our necks. Sometimes it feels like I can't even take a crap without dad hearing about it and giving feedback, telling me I managed to screw that up somehow."

"That reminds me," Dean pulled out his phone, "you took a crap earlier and I forgot to tell dad."

Sam threw a lopsided pillow at his brother's head.

"Get some rest Sammy, we'll head out in the morning." Dean said tossing the pillow back on Sam's bed.

But when Sam woke he wasn't in his squeaky motel bed. He was folded awkwardly on the backseat of the Impala.

"What?" Sam asked, shielding his eyes from the streaks of sunlight that poked through the clouds and car windows.

"Good morning princess," Dean shouted, "and welcome to the Michigan Music Fest!"

"Huh?"

"Best booze, babes, and rock'n roll this side of the Mississippi," Dean said tossing a crumpled flyer in Sam's face. "Found that in motel trash. We made it in time for the final two days."

"But the hunt?" Sam's brain was finally starting to catch up.

"Called Uncle Bobby, he said he could take care of it. Told him not to say anything to dad and he assured me that wouldn't be a problem since they haven't said two words to each other in the past three years." Dean took his eyes off the road for a minute to turn and give his brother a smile. "You ready for some off the grid, AWOL action?"

"Sir yes sir," Sam smiled so wide that Dean was afraid he'd split his face open.

For the next few hours Dean kept Sam's mind occupied with the events of those two days. The music, food, underage drinking (on Sam's part), fancy hotel stay paid for with cash from a successful round of hustling, bar fight following a not-so-successful round of hustling, and girls with shiny hair and low-cut t-shirts.

When the sun started to creep into the room, and Sam started to wrestle his way into consciousness, Dean popped into the kitchen.

"Where you been?" Bobby asked. He was frying an egg.

"Out," Dean said. Trying to play it cool.

"Please, enough with the details," Bobby said.

"I'm sensing… sarcasm?" Dean said pretending to tap into his newfound powers.

"You have a gift." Bobby slid the fried egg onto a plate.

"Yeah, one that just might come in handy," Dean said. He reached for the egg but Bobby swatted away his hand.

"I don't need you spewin' anything out in my kitchen."

"Fair point," Dean said eyeing the food, "I'm not actually hungry. I just miss eating."

"It's not even been a full twenty-four hours."

"It's been long enough," Dean said.

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