Sword and Shield

by everfaithful

Next in the No such thing as Miracles series. While looking for the sword to slay the demon, Sam and Dean are blackmailed into helping the feds with a little demon problem of their own.

7. Chapter 7

It had been a couple of days, but Father Reynolds knew better than to actively pursue Sam Winchester. He'd find some excuse. And it wasn't like he wasn't needed in other places here. And he was making progress, slow excruciating progress, but progress.

He was the one in the compound they greeted with a smile. He never judged, just supported. Andthough he didn't pull punches, he did so very gently. He'd even gotten to where some of them sought him out, instead of the other way around.

But he knew Sam wasn't there yet. Brief glances, innocuous conversations, that's all he got out of the boy.

So he waited until Sam was waiting for his brother to get over with his training and sat silently beside him.

"I would almost think you were avoiding me, but you'd never do that, would you?" Father Reynolds asked gently.

Sam smiled. "No, it's just been busy. With all that there is to do around here, and trying to make sure Dean doesn't do himself in with all this training. Was there something you needed to talk to me about?"

"I was hoping there was something you wanted to talk to me about." Father Reynolds said. "You're carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders. I know that. You're also carrying a lot of things inside your head."

"I don't know what good it will do to talk about it." He said softly. "It won't change anything." It would only bring it to the surface instead of leaving it to glide underneath like a shark.

"Because it's tearing you apart inside." Father Reynolds said. "Eating you from the inside out like a cancer. Could it really hurt to talk about? Don't you think there'sa chance some of those teeth can be pulled with a little discussion?"

"I don't know... almost afraid that talking about it is going to give it form. This way I can just write it off to being insane... if I talk about it... it becomes a reality... for me... Didn't really happen... I just lived through it but... it never happened."

"That has to be a horrible paradox." Father Reynolds said sympathetically. "What was all tied up in what will never be."

Sam stared at the ground. "I watched them kill my brother... and every time I could turn back the clock, it didn't turn back for me... not really... I remembered... and each time I failed... time and again I kept failing him and the others until I stopped fighting it and let them take me... I ... I ... I don't even know if I can explain it really... the real me... the me that is in this time line was sick sothe me that isn't supposed to even exist took over... and the consiousness is gone... but the memories aren't." He whispered.

Father Reynolds just listened. "It must be horrible." He said. And he could very easily imagine it was. "All the possible futures you see, and none of them pleasant."

"I don't know how much has changed or if it's just postponed. When Quillon captured us... I was sure it was all starting again. " The drugs, being strapped to the table... the constant pain even if it was just from the microchip they had implanted in his neck.

Michael was right to be concerned. Sam was like a teapot ready to boil, with the lid screwed on too tight and the spout plugged up.

"Do you replay these memories all the time?" He asked the younger man.

"I try not to. Sometimes I can push it aside...when we were hunting for the sword, I could push it to the back of my mind. " He said, his tone was haunted, his eyes revealing even more than his words. "But when I sleep... it's all there when I sleep."

That certainly explained the dark circles bruising the skin underneath Sam's eyes. The young man had been through a severe trauma, even if it linearly didn't happen. This wasn't something that he could be told to forget about and that was the end of it.

"What do you see, Sam?" He asked quietly.

"Death... " he said honestly. "I kept killing them... I've even done it in the real world... I... Someone hurt Dean and I wasnt completely there...completely awake and I ...I killed him. Turned his insides into jelly with a look... Father... what am I?"

"A confused, hurt boy who has seen far too much for his years." Father Reynolds said. "Who's carrying the weight of this community and this world on his shoulders because of his certain abilities."

"I'm tainted somehow." This was said so softly that even Father Reynolds could barely hear. He didn't want the others to hear that, even by accident. "He says I'm chosen... not exactly like the others. I'm supposed to be... different... more in his estimation...less in mine."

"And in the end, you are still Sam Winchester." Father Reynolds said. "You are your own person and you are not tainted." He said the last part hushed, for the same reason. "You've been through an extremely traumatic experience, it's no wonder you feel the world crushing down on you all the time."

"How can I not be?" He asked looking for all the world like a little boy inspite of his height and age. "How can I do these things... and not be ...wrong some how? Unnatural."

"You were born of a man and a woman. That's natural." Father Reynolds said. "What happened to you when you were no more than baby, you couldn't prevent. What's happening to you now feels like it's out of your control...but you're not wrong. Or unnatural. To be any of those things would be to utterly subjugate who you are inside. Here." He said, poking Sam gently in the chest, over his heart. "This, right here, is who you are."

"And what if that changes?" Sam asked. "McKendrick... is like me... he... his eyes turned back when I said Christo. He's still a good man... or at least doing good things... what happens when that starts happening to me?"

"You are surrounded by people who love you." Father Reynolds said. "If you let us, we can help you. But you have to let us."

"No one can help me, Father. That's just it... no one can help and I don't think my prayers are getting further than the sound of my voice. I don't blame God... not really...but... I ... I think I'm already cut off from Him... I think the demon did something to make me unclean somehow."

"If you were unclean, you wouldn't be able to stand the presence of Michael. Physically, not just because his people skills are most certainly lacking." Father Reynolds said. "God hears you, He just might not answer in the way you want when you want." He sighed, it was the right answer, the correct answer, and the true answer, even if it wasn't particularly helpful. "We can help you if you let us."

Sam shook his head. "How?" He asked again. "I have to just hold on to things until this demon is dealt with... that's all. Dean can't handle this on top of everything else. So... I have to just be strong right now. It'll pass. Pain always does."

"If you had broken your leg instead of your heart I'd agree with you." Father Reynolds said. "And you wouldn't let Dean get away with this crap, why do you get a free pass?"

"Because Dean isn't a freak." Sam said and looked toward where he was practicing. "He's a hero... like our dad."

"What makes a man a hero?" Father Reynolds asked. "The people around him. He wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you. How many times have you saved your brother? How many people have you saved or helped find peace? A monster doesn't do those things, Sam."

"Don't they ? I've seen monsters save people... when it suited their purposes. Dean... he does it because it's right. Because he can and someone hasto. It wouldn't occur to him to ever stop doing it. Me... I tried to get out if it. Resented it. Most days I still do. That's not a hero. "

"Not all heroes embrace their task as openly as your brother does. And I'm willing to bet he's plagued by doubts and fear from time to time." Father Reynolds said. "Resenting something doesn't make you any less a hero. Any less a good person. It makes you human."

Sam didn't respond to that. He knew that human was something he wasn't. Not really. He didn't know what was different. But human beings didn't kill with thier minds. they didn't slam people and things into walls with their minds. They weren't singled out to be something special to a demon. Like McKendrick had said. They were alike... the same only a generation apart. The others were spare parts he had said. They had a chance to be normal. He didn't.

"You've remained Sam for so long. Why? If it was all predestined and you were unclean, you would think you'd run for the demon. But you fight him instead. Look around, this is not the work of someone without a soul, without love in his heart." Father Reynolds said. "You did not give up on them," he said, gesturing to the compound, "and I am not giving up on you."

Sam looked the man in the eyes, and they were not the eyes of a 26 year old man. "That's what scares me... people like you and Dean are going to be the ones caught in the middle when I can't fight it any more."

"When you can't fight it anymore, we'll fight it for you." Father Reynolds said. "And that's all right. It's all right to let us, because we will anyway."

Sam nodded. It was meant to be reassuring, but there was too much fear in him right then to see it as such. But he understood the need to say it or even do it. He would do the same for Dean or anyone else he loved. Some how he had the feeling the good father had a lot of love to spread around the compound.

"We're a bit like a family." Father Reynolds said. "Up to and including the asshole cousin no one talks about." That would be Mickey. Priests could swear, after all, as long as they weren't taking the Lord's name in vain! "And this is what a family does, even one as highly dysfunctional as ours. We help each other, and we let each other help us."

"Winchesters are good at the helping... not so good at the letting." Sam said with a laugh. Even ifit came out a bit hysterical sounding.

"Then that is something we will all have to work on." Father Reynolds said. Baby steps. Baby steps were good. "You can help me acclimate to my new environment, with all the supernatural stuff I'm supposed to just know...priests live actually pretty sheltered lives."

Sam smiled. "That I can do." He said. "Where would you like me to start?" A much safer subject than his own impending implosion.

Father Reynolds would keep silent tabs on Sam. Some more silent than others when you factored in Deirdre, who saw much more than people thought. So for the meanwhile he was willing to let it slid. He'd made the point his door was always open. "I don't even know where to begin. Wasn't that long ago I thought spirits were for crazy people you know.""Well.. ghosts you know about. You are probably better suited to an exorcism than Dean or I, but we have done more than one down and dirty. Never quite sits right when they die afterwards. Then again... we lost our father when he was casting demons out of us... so I don't know, that's a particularly scary process."

"With exorcisms, you're dealing with powers, powerful powers, on both sides of the fence." Father Reynolds agreed. "Wherever I'm useful, I'm happy to pitch in. Though I am insisting on taking over breakfast."

"That I will more than happily let you take over. I never really cooked much. Dean always took care of that when we were growing up, and when I was in my own place... there was always Jessica." Again he looked down. "So yeah... someone else cooking is probably a good idea."

"Well, I'm amazed you got as big as you got. Because your brother really can't cook." Father Reynolds said with a grin. "It's just an example on how we can all lean on another's strength."Sam laughed. "Yeah well he was a master of grilled cheese and spaghettios. " He said. "Yeah...a lot of us around here just need to find that strength is all."

"And it is easier than it sounds." Father Reynolds said. "Trust me. Actually, that's the first step come to think of it."

"Trusting you? I do, Father. Or I wouldn't let you be here with the others." Sam said honestly. He took his responsibility for the others like him very seriously. More seriously than he took his own safety.

"Oh that's only half trust, Sam." Father Reynolds said. "You trust me not to bring harm to the community. To give comfort and support to the others. I'm still working on you though. I'll get there. I'm very tenacious you know."

Sam smiled. "Okay," He said. "I know I'm a hard case that way. I'm not real trusting in general."

"If I wanted an easy life, I would have been a plumber like my father." Father Reynolds said. "Don't worry about me, I think I can handle you. Suppose I should work on your brother too."

"Yeah, good luck with that one. Dean is... well... Dean. About the only way to explain him." Sam said. Dean didn't even trust Sam enough to let him know what was going on inside him.

"Your brother has been a caretaker longer than you have." Father Reynolds said gently. Far too young in his opinion, but that was neither here nor there. "Perhaps he thinks he shouldn't tell you anything, because it would be wrong to burden you with it. Hardly in the realm of taking care of you. Just a thought."

"I know." He said. "He needs to think about himself a little more than he does. Okay a lot more than he does. Dean doesn't have much in the way of self esteem. No matter what he does, how much he succeeds in... all he can remember are the failures."

"Well, we'll work on that." Father Reynolds said. It was such a paradox, since the older Winchester brother seemed to exude confidence and arrogance.

Sam nodded. "Been working on it for a number of years now." He said. "He blames himself for anything that happens to me. Doesn't matter if he had any way of preventing it or not. "

"He's an older brother." Father Reynolds said. "Or just a brother period. For I bet you keep yourself completely blameless and guilt free for whatever happens to your brother."

Sam frowns. "No... but everything he has been through... is because of me. He refuses to accept that. If it wasn't for the demon choosing me... none of this ... from Mom dying to losing Dad twice... to... to... being wanted by the federal government. Every scar he carries... is because there was something about ME that the demon wanted."

"So you believe your brother is just a schlub being dragged along on this?" Father Reynolds said.

"No... But he would have had a normal life... maybe a wife and kids... if Mom hadn't died trying to save me. Dean would have been an incredible father." Sam said quietly.

"He still can be. He's not that old. Your generation seems to put off childbearing and raising until at least the mid thirties." Father Reynolds said. "This is not the end of the line for either of you. I think you two still have quite the journey to go on."

"I think it's just a continuation of the same journey. A third of the host of heaven, right Father? That's a lot of demons. I don't see them stopping just because one man has a weapon that could possibly kill them. In fact, I would predict they are going to start coming for him in hordes."

"And you can't hold yourself accountable for that." Father Reynolds said. "If you really want to look at this whole situation through your admittedly skewed perspective...one could logically blame Dean for you being the demon's chosen favorite child. He was picked for the sword before his own birth. And he was born before you."

Sam shook his head. "Dean didn't choose this. He's sacrificed everything for me. " No, he wouldn't hear that. Dean was not responsible for any of this. His being chosen wasn't what triggered the avalanche. It was the demon...

"You missed the point. It's silly to blame a small child for something, isn't it? You were six months old. Dean wasn't even born yet in my scenario." Father Reynolds said. "Michael takes that free will concept too far. Of course neither of you chose this. And both of you are fighting it all. Sam, none of this is your fault. The only thing you can possibly blame yourself for is gathering all the children like you that you could find and rescue, and giving them a place to belong."

Sams eyes misted over. "I didn't choose it... I didn't do anything to bring it about but... everything that has happened to my family has been in order to protect me... It's hard to seperate the two... to not take the blame for it all..."

"Well you can't." Father Reynolds said firmly. "You can't have it both ways. There is no one to blame. Neither you nor your brother. No carelessness on his part, no evil destiny on your part...nothing brought this about. Nothing you could prevent, or see, or predict."

Silent tears streamed down Sam's cheeks. "I want to believe that... I truly do... " He didn't know if it would ever become a reality in his mind. That he wasn't to blame. Too many years... his entire life... spent blaming himself for it all.

"Then we'll work on that." Father Reynolds said. "It's a start."

Sam nodded and wiped his face as he saw his brother heading back to the compound. He knew that walk, Had seen it on Bobby and the other older hunters. Ever since New Orleans, he had seen it in Dean. The way of walking that let him move in such a way as to hide the pain they were in. Only Dean wasn't as good at hiding it as he thought he was. "He's pushing himself too hard. I warned Michael about that."

"He's a man on a mission." Father Reynolds said. "It's hard to distract him when he gets like that. Perhaps we should drug his food? Then he can sleep it off."

"No, then he will get paranoid and start going into town to get his meals." Sam laughed a little at that. "He flips out when the hospitals force him to take meds, trust me."

"Then we'll at least spike his food with mild pain killers." Father Reynolds said with a sigh, watching Dean stop and crack out a few joints against a building. He knew the training wouldn't be easy, nothing in this would be easy. But still.

Sam got to his feet then. Something looked off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he didn't have to. "Dean." He called out and started toward his brother.

"Hey." Dean said, waving off his brother as soon as Sam started toward him. Because he knew Sam, and he knew that 'concerned' expression. He was too old to have his baby brother try to fuss and hover over him. Really he was. So to prove the point, he went to cross the ground between him and Sam, cover the distance and meet him half way. With some flippant remark about food, Sam's hair, or sex on his tongue when he hit the said ground. If it were someone else (besides Sammy) he would have given it a mark of 10 for a nice form perfect face plant into the dirt."Dean!" Sam yelled and covered the distance at breakneck speed, skidding to a halt on his knees beside his brother. He turned Dean over gently, looking him over for signs of injury. "Come on." He muttered under his breath as he checked pulse, looked under the lids of his eyes. "Dean... come on man, wake up." He said then scooped his brother up into his arms, rose to his feet,and started for the building.

"What the hell happened?" Bobby demanded when he came into the building. He was going over charts with Ash when Sam burst through the door, carrying Dean, the priest following behind.

"Dean collapsed." Sam said as he headed for the make shift infirmary. "He's been over doing it since we left New Orleans. This is all just too much, too soon for him." He said tightly.

"Dammit, Dean..." Bobby said as he followed Sam in and gathered some supplies, not knowing what they were going to find. "Let's check his front first, see if he finally snapped something in there." He said, shaking his head.

Sam lay his brother gently on the bed and started to remove layers of clothing from his brother to see if he could find what wound was the culprit this time.

Bobby helped Sam, they didn't find anything other than a few new bruises and scrapes. "I think he was just finally done wore out." Bobby said, findinga blanket for Dean. "He sleeps less than you."

"I know." Sam said with a sigh.Michael entered the infirmary and looked over at Dean. He almost felt sorry for him, except he had done it to himself. Pushed himself even harder than Michael had pushed.

Father Reynolds touched Mickey's sleeve. "I think you should come with me. This isn't the place for anything." He said, seeing Sam's face. This was the last thing either brother needed to deal with.

"I can take care of this. Would have sooner if he had sat still long enough. " Mickey said, but let the priest lead him out the door, and raised an eyebrow as it slammed shut behind him even though no hand had touched it.

Father Reynolds looked at the door for a moment, he knew who had shut it, and how. "I realize you're on a mission straight from God, and I respect that." He said. "But these are just kids. They're human, mortal, fragile kids burdened with an impossible task!"

"I told him to call it a night two hours ago." Mickey said, with a shrug. "He chose to keep going. Wanted to get it right before calling it a night." He shook his head. "He realizes how important this is, how tight the time table is."

Father Reynolds looked at him. "And were those two hours worth it? I knowyou know what these boys have been through...but do you really know? They've been charged with saving the world over and over through out their lives. They've lost and sacrificed more than anyone should have to. Can you truly understand that?"

"Yes, they have been through a lot, but so have others. It was his choice to continue to work. You sound as though you are blaming me for his collapse."

"I am." Father Reynolds said. "You told him to train or the world ends. He's not a bad person. He's not evil. And since he's not either of those things, there really wasn't a choice. He's a boy. A boy that has been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders his whole life. And you're adding to that weight. You see a soldier, someone you can train, someone you can teach to win. Can't you see the boy behind all that?"

"Have you ever fought in a war, Father?" He asked the priest. "Have you ever been so entrenched in battle that you can't see or hear anything but blood and screams? Have you ever had to fight to put one foot in front of the other, just to get in another strike so that you might have a chance of surviving? That is what that boy has to do. If I make it easy for him, he won't be able to do it when the time comes. "

"And you just don't care how he comes out of it. Or if he comes out of it?" Father Reynolds asked. "He's not one of your foot soldiers from Heaven. He's mortal, and his body is a lot more fragile than he'd like to admit, or like for us to know. Are you incapable of seeing us as individuals? He collapsed. Because he had nothing left to give, he's giving everything he can. And even some that he doesn't have. And all you can focus on is the training. Is it your point to break him?"

"My purpose is to forge him into the man who can bring Azazel down." Mickey said. "I can heal his injuries if I am allowed to. I can heal his body completely. He is being tempered. Do you think the sword is the weapon? It's not. Dean is. Yes, I see him as an individual. But I don't see a boy. I see a man. One with the heart to do what needs to be done."

"No matter what the cost?" Father Reynolds asked. "Will he see this as all being worth it if he's just a shell of who he is now at the end of it? I know about angels. I know how task oriented you have to be. You see the big picture, all of the time. But me? I just see the ones around me. The ones right now."

"That is your purpose, Father. Your purpose is to minister to those of God's children who need you... here and now. I am not a comforter. They sent another for that purpose, but most don't hear. My purpose is to fight. " He said in a gentle tone. "And prepare HIS soldiers on earth for that fight. My feelings don't matter. I do not have free will. I don't get to make the choices, hard or otherwise. I will train him. I will keep him alive to meet his destiny. "

"You have leeway." Father Reynolds said. "In how you train him. In how you prepare him. Pushing him to his breaking point, and not pulling him back...you can heal the body, yes. But can you heal the heart? What good is all this training if he doesn't have the heart when it comes time? If he loses sight of what he's fighting for? The end of the world is such an abstract thing for us. I don't know that we're capable of imagining it."

"He isn't fighting to save the world. I can see that much in him. He is fighting to avenge his family... and for the chance to save his brother." Michael pointed out. "That is why he drives himself so hard. That is why he refuses to stop. "

"His brother is slowly going insane, and I don't know that I can stop him. Dean is his rock. His anchor in this world." Father Reynolds said. "Do you see that as well? What happens if Dean pushes himself so hard that he ceases to be Dean? Do you think we can survive Sam losing it, as well as Dean? Or is that the long term plan?"

"What is it you want me to do? Sit on him and make him stay in bed?" Mickey asked finally. "Violate his free will? I'm not allowed to do that."

"What are you allowed to do?" Father Reynolds demanded, exasperated. "Because he's going to wear himself into the ground, and he's going to take his brother with him. Did you see him lying in there? What did you see?"

"I see a man who needs healing. Which by the way I had gone in there to do." He pointed out. "I can try and convince him to choose to slow down, which I have done. Perhaps you should explain that he is taking his brother with him when he does this. Perhaps he will hear it from you... or someone else that he respects."

Father Reynolds sighed. "I'll do my best. But you've got it in his head that he has to train all day, all night, as hard as he can, if he wants to succeed. If he doesn't do that, he sees it as another failure on his part. Despite the bravado, he is really an insecure little boy looking for approval."

"Which is ... such a very human thing. To desperately seek what you already have. " He shook his head. "So... now can I go in there and heal the man?" He asked, not so much for permission but to make a point.

"It's not my call." Father Reynolds said and opened the door a crack. "Sam? Can I see you out here?" He asked.

"It's not a good time, Father." Sam said as he started to prep his own arm. "We think Dean is bleeding internally. If you could get Andy and tell him we need a doctor again ?"

"Sam. Come here." He said, his tone booking no room for argument or delay. "Please." He amended. "It's important."

Sam sighed and headed out the door. "What is it?" He asked impatiently, but he knew the priest wouldn't call him away from Dean if it wasn't an emergency. "I need to get this going so we have blood available for him when the doctor is gotten."

"Michael...Mickey...he can heal your brother. Everything, according to him." Father Reynolds said. "But I thought I'd get your permission first before he laid a hand on Dean."

Sam glared at the angel. "Yeah... he has my permission. Fitting, since he got him this way in the first place." Sam said, turning on his heel and going inside. All of his worry and fear and resentment seemed to bubble forth as anger every time he saw the angel.

Mickey rolled his eyes as Father Reynolds indicated he should pass. He went over to Dean and placed his hands on Dean's head, at the temples. "You might want to close your eyes." He said to everyone else in the room.

Sam looked at his brother's chest, not closing his eyes, not trusting enough to take his eyes off of his brother. On one level, he knew that Michael was only here to help, that Dean needed him to prepare him for the up coming battle and to save him from himself apparently, but he couldn't seem to resist the anger that welled to the surface when dealing with the archangel... patron of Demon Hunters.

"Fine." Mickey said. And went about healing Dean. The room filling with the holiest and brightest of lights as his wings became visible, and the power granted to him straight from God himself nearly radiating from him in a tangible way. There was a reason he took the form of Mickey. Because as Michael the Archangel, he was incomprehensible to humans.

Sam recognized the form even if he couldn't clearly see it. It was the form that had come to him in that place... that had prompted the visions of the sword.. had appeared at the invocation of St.Michael's prayer that he had used to push the yellow eyed demon away.

It didn't take long, as everyone squinted their eyes against the terribly beautiful light in the room. Soon it receded, leaving Mickey standing there as Dean opened his eyes with a start and looked around.

"What the hell happened?" He asked. Last he knew he was outside.

"You need a nap." Mickey said.

"Dude, I feel fine." Dean said with a scowl.

Mickey shrugged. Hey, he tried.

"You give up too easy." Sam said to the angel. "Dean, I had to carry you in here. You had torn open the... the stab wound again. Internally anyway. You have got to take it easy. I mean it. You could have died."

"Sam, I'm fine." Dean said. Bobby cleared his throat.

"Get your ass into the hydrotherapy tub for three hours. Now. Before I gather up the telekinetics to drag you there." He said.

"Come on... if you go, I will bring the beer. If you don't, I will make sure this is a dry site and hide your car keys... drain the gas tank... " Sam said. "Replace all your tapes with Pat Boone and the Pointer Sisters or something."

"Dude, I take back any defense I've ever mounted for you. You ARE evil." Dean said as he got off the bed and shook himself out. "Fine. If you promise to leave my car alone."

"We'll negotiate that on a case by case basis." Sam said with a grin, as he motioned for Dean to lead the way out of the room. "We'll grab the beer on the way down to the basement."

Mickey watched the Winchesters leave. "There was only so much I could do." He said. "He's holding onto a lot of it intentionally."

"To punish himself." Father Reynolds said, shaking his head.

"What the hell does Dean have to punish himself for?" Bobby asked in confusion.

"For every single time he thinks he let Sam get hurt. For the guilt over his father. Every time he thinks he failed." Father Reynolds replied. "I never said it was right, or sane, or even correct, but I think that's how he feels."

"He's not responsible for any of that." Bobby said with a faint frustrated growl. "Winchesters." He grumbled and stalked out of the room, not a lot more to be said. If a freaking angel couldn't make the boy see, he didn't know how the hell he could.

"Now you know who exactly you are dealing with." Father Reynolds said sadly to Mickey. Meaning maybe now Mickey had seen into the heart of of the man he was trying to forge.

Mickey nodded. "I can't fix his soul." He said sadly. "I can't make him love himself. Or even like himself. Only he can do that."

"And those are the stakes." Father Reynolds said. "He's so willing to die for everyone else, because he feels unworthy. Yet in the whole world, he's the only one worthy enough to carry that sword. Imagine what he must be thinking."

"I think he tries not to think about it as much as possible." Mickey said. "In fact, I think he tries not to think too much about anything that hurts. Doesn't succeed but I think he tries. "

"That certainly explains some of his hedonistic instant gratification tendencies." Father Reynolds said. "I would hardly presume to give you orders, but I will give you advice. When he's had enough, stop. It's harder for him to train if you're not training against him. He and Sam both have enough guilt to fuel countless wars, they don't need your constant harping and reminders on free will, how they chose everything that's happening to them. They didn't." He held up his hand. "Sam and Dean didn't choose." He clarified. "You said it yourself, Dean was the sword bearer before he was even conceived. Sam was pickedby Azazel far too early for him to make a choice. They're doing the best they can."

Mickey sighed. This human perspective was eternally frustrating. "I know that. I'm not holding them accountable for all the errors of humanity. Just trying to make them understand that your race chose to give the fallen their foot hold in this realm, not God... not the archangels. Humanity. But fine... I will go and find something else to do when he looks like he has reached the edge of his limitations." Pressing past one's limits was how limits were increased after all.

"Thank you." Father Reynolds said. "He can hardly face a fallen angel if he keeps pushing himself to the point of collapse after all." He pointed out. "And I know you don't want to enter a popularity contest, but this is a community." That was his over all job, make this into a viable community. "It wouldn't hurt for you to be pleasant to everyone else."

"I've been pleasant." Mickey protested. He had beenmore than pleasant. He hadn't pointed out a single vice, or punished a single transgression... didn't shower the place with hail or lightening when they took HIS name in vain or came within an ace of blasphemy. He had been very very pleasant. An unpleasant Mickey usually resulted in salt statues or people being consumed instantly with flesh eating diseases.

Father Reynolds chuckled softly. "I suppose you have." He said. "Now try being friendly. Say good morning. Please, thank you, you're welcome. Can I help you with that?" He said. The irony of it all was not lost on him. He, a lowly priest, was trying to teach an archangel.

"You want me to go back to pretending to be human." Mickey asked with a chuckle. "I suppose I could do that."

"Thank you. What can I say? We're human, we're incapable of truly comprehending you. It's not a flaw, but one of design that I'm not even going to question." Father Reynolds said.

Mickey chuckled. "I could explain it but I would come off evenmore callous than I do." He said. "So I guess I am off to make nice with the kids." The situation amused him greatly.

"That would be a good idea. I think they're watching a sports game, Ash managed to hot wire cable." Father Reynolds said with a twinkle in his eye. "Just don't point out that it's a sin."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Michael said with a chuckle. He didn't think it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. Right now there were more important things for those kids. Rack it up to therapy. He walked away, figuring he could handle a good game anyway.

Dean would never admit it, but the tub was doing wonders. He'd also never admit that while he was in the hospital, this was the one part oftherapy he had looked forward to. So he was lounging in the hot tub in his boxers drinking a beer with Sam outside the tub.

"So, dude, you ever gonna tell me what's going on in that fluffy head of yours?" He asked his brother as he reached for another beer.

"Nothing to worry about. Just getting used to this whole leadership thing is all." Sam said, not meeting his brother's eyes as he said it.

"You're a horrible liar." Dean said with a sigh. "At least to me. Come on, man, I'm giving you an opening to share and care, and you're not taking me up on it. Which means there's something wrong."

"Just ... still processing things is all. " It wasn't a lie exactly. Never mind the process of processing was making him nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake.

Dean had always believed that the process of processing, or processing period, was overrated. And usually made things worse anyway. But he nodded. "Okay..." He said. "What are you processing?" He'd learned from the master (Sam) how to pick at someone until they gave in.

Sam knew what Dean was up to. He had pulled it himself more than once. "Don't really know how to say it without coming across as a complete nut job."

"Then just say it." Dean said. "If you come off as a nutjob, you come off as a nut job. Just say it, Sam. Don't make me get out of this tub and beat it out of you."

"I lied... after the rescue ... I ahm... I do remember... I remember everything. Not just what really happened but the stuff that would have happened."

"Yeah, I know." Dean said. "You've let little things slip here and there you know. You're not as sneaky as you like to think you are." He said tiredly. "Memories you couldn't have, memories you should have, things like that." Like when he had locked Dean, Ellen and Ash in the basement of the road house. "Kinda hoping you'd tell me without the threat of violence, what with us being brothers and all, and in this together."

"Yeah... cause you're the only one that gets to hide when it hurts right? In this whole being brothers and in it together and all." Sam grumbled. "I just... there isnt anything anyone can do about it. You have enough going on with out worrying that I am gonna flip out and switch time lines again."

"Exactly. I'm older and I called it first." Dean said. "Dude, let me worry about what I should worry about, okay?"

"Don't you think we're a bit old for all this 'I'm older' crap? Besides, with all the added memories in my head, I have easily caught up to you." Sam said trying to make light of the situation but it really wasn't working.

"Fine." Dean said. "If I admit I'm in pain, even to myself, I might stop. And I can't afford to stop. So if I don't admit it, I can just pretend I'm not and keep going. So far it's worked."

"So far it's worked? Dean... you had to have an archangel heal you. You could have died today. You can afford to stop. " Sam insisted.

Dean scowled. "You all overreact." He said. "Dude, I'm fine. I'm in the freaking tub like you guys told me to, I don't have a bruise to show for anything...I'm fine."

"Yeah because Mickey healed your ass." Sam said again. "Dude, you were bleeding out inside. You had reopened the wound from when you were stabbed. You haven't once given yourself time to heal from anything that has happened. Hell, you left the hospital early too."

"The food sucked." Dean said with a shrug. "Come on, give me a break. Apparently I have a limited amount of time to learn how to use that stupid sword, fight a fallen angel, and save the freaking world. Because you all think I can do. I don't think I can, but now is NOT the time to prove you all wrong."

"Yeah, well, dying to prove me right is a bit extreme don't you think? You aren't going to be facing this thing alone, okay... I'll be there beside you, just like always. We always come through things together. So cut yourself a little slack here okay?"

Dean sighed. "Fine." He said, then he grinned. "But man do I have some payback to get. You know, when Azazel confiscated my body...he didn't feed me. Not once. And he listens to crappy music on top of it."

"Well at least you will be able to get that." Sam said with a laugh. "One of these days the other one will rear his ugly head again I am sure of it. But he is easy to spot. Just follow the track of devastation. Azazel is much more subtle."

"Yeah, I got a score to settle with the other one too." Dean said. Where to start? The fact that he was tortured for a ritual because of him? That he dared to touch his baby brother? Oh the list went on.

"Yeah... me too. I'll never be able to enter another Mc Donald's again. " He gave a funny look "Then again... may be I dont owe him for that." Just the images of all those people dying around him... and making him hurt his own brother.

Dean had to chuckle at that. "Yeah, guess so. They're overpriced anyway. How long do I have to stay in here?"

"Three hoursI think was recommended. I will see what I can do about getting aTV down here with cable attached tomorrow." Sam said. "Cause you know I am going to drag your ass down here tomorrow after training too."

"You guys are ridiculous." Dean said with a chuckle. "But TV would be good. Or a girl. Ooh, we should go pick up some non STD infested girls."

"Tell you what, you stop working before you collapse tomorrow, you might have time for Hydrotherapy AND girls. But today you are going nowhere but bed after this."

"Yes, Mom." Dean said with a chuckle. "Do I get a bedtime story too?"

"You just got one." Sam said. After all he had let it out... sort of ... okay he hadn't let it out but he had let Dean get the gist of what was going on anyway. That was enough right? He didn't need to talk about all that went with it... all he had seen and done in those memories.

"Well, you suck." Dean said. "Sam, everything's going to be fine, okay? I promise. Doesn't matter...I'll make it right, okay?"

"Dean... I love that you want to make it right... but sometimes that just isn't possible. Doesn't mean you've failed if it isn't possible you know."

"Yes it does." Dean said as he looked at the ceiling. He wasn't even truly aware he'd said that aloud.

"Dean... some things just can't be done. It's okay not to be superman. We're human ... just human. Even with my freakish gifts and your arcaic weapon... we're just men... it's okay that we can't do everything. Even for you."

"No it's not!" Dean said. "Dammit, Sam, I promised I'd look after my kid brother, and every time I turn around, I'm messing that up and you're the one paying for it. It's not okay!"

"Dean... that's not your fault. you do look after me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be alive now. Hell if it weren't for you, me and all the others here like me would still be in that government facility being tortured. If it weren't for you, who knows where I would have wound up when we were kids? Dean... you take care of me. Okay, so sometimes things happen, that isn't the important part. The important thing is I always ... ALWAYS know that you are gonna be there to get me out of it. It's what big brothers do. And they don't come any better than the one I've got."

Dean shook his head. "If I had been able to keep you out of government hands, would you be as messed up as you think you are right now? If I was able to stop you from being possessed, think things would have been better?" His father died for him. Twice. And he didn't think it was worth it.

"Dean... you died 3 times trying to keep me out of government hands. I chose to let them take me. That isn't your fault. I chose to let it happen." He said, not letting himself think about how insane it sounded. "The possession... please... you got possessed because of me. I think we broke even on that one... and as I recall... I hurt you a lot worse than you hurt me... Don't you dare blame yourself for things that no one could have changed or controlled."

"Sam..." Dean said and sighed. After his brother's confession, he knew what Sam meant by 'dying three times' already. "I shouldn't be picking up the pieces, or cleaning up my mess. I should stop everything from breaking in the first place."

"You're not god." Sam said. "You can't stop things from happening. It's not like when I was a kid and you could keep me out of harm's way. We're hunters. I'm going to get hurt... what I am... means I am going to attract trouble. The kind that neither of us have any way of stopping. And you weren't cleaning up messes or picking up pieces... you were saving me."

"I get hurt too, because I'm a hunter, I don't see you giving me an easy pass for that." Dean pointed out, gesturing to the tub he was lounging in as a prime example.

"Yeah... you get hurt. I get hurt, Dad got hurt , Bobby gets hurt. It comes with the job... by the same token... I don't see you giving Dad hell for all the injuries you took when you were hunting with him. Why should you take the blame for mine and let him off the hook for yours?"

"Because I saved up all the guilt for when he died. Twice." Dean said honestly.

"Dude, I am seriously thinking I am the sane one in the family. And that's a scary thing."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, maybe you are. I'm not discounting that yet." He said with a chuckle. "If nothing else, you fit right in."

Sam laughed. "Yeah... I do... Just...Dean, I worry about you. Okay?" He added. "So even if you don't think you need to take care of yourself or you think you don't deserve to take care of yourself, just remember, I need you around. Just think how much trouble I could get into without my big brother here to bail me out."

Dean sighed. "Fine. I'll work on it." He said. Most he could do, some habits were just too ingrained, and some scars just ran too deep.

"You do that... and I'll... try and sort out my head a little more... I'm gonna be okay though. Nothing for you to worry about there."

"It's more likely the Pope is going to become a Satan worshipper." Dean said with a chuckle. "But nice try. Really. Nearly got me there."

Sam laughed and handed his brother a beer. "I'm not that messed up." He said. "Close but not quite to the point of no return yet."

"Well, that's why you got me around, right?" Dean said. "Because if anyone is going to push my brother into total insanity, it's going to be me. And it's going to be because of spoons, Nair and itching powder."

Sam laughed again. "Nair... so not recommended. I'm keeping my hair no matter what you and Josh think."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean said. "Promise I won't shave it in your sleep. So don't let that be an excuse not to sleep."

"My excuse not to sleep ... is the fear of dreaming." Sam admitted, looking to the floor.

"Yeah, well, mine's the fear of closing my eyes and missing something." Dean said as he stared at the ceiling. "Either way, it sucks for both of us."

"It's funny... you would think that this place... would make things easier." Sam said. "There are hunters and other people like me all under one roof... I shouldn't feel like a freak here... but I do."

"Sammy, even without the Jedi mind powers and the whole Dr Who time travel business, you're still a freak." Dean said with a chuckle. "Just now you're an amped up freak is all."

"Nice." He said in return, grinning a little. "So how does it feel to beall He-Man like now? "

Dean grimaced. "It sucks." He said. "Because, like He-Man, I can't even use it to pick up girls. What's the use of that? Because I think 'you know, I'm going to save the world' is actually a pretty good pick up line if it's believable anyway."

"Yeah but the only pick up you will get with that line is the men in white coats and the hug me jacket. " Sam pointed out. "Face it... our reality is insane."

"You're right." Dean said with a chuckle. "It's completely and utterly insane. Wonder what life would have been like if we were normal?"

Sam chuckled. "Boring... you wouldn't be able to get a date because girls share information... and they don't like players... me... I would be a Tax lawyer by now. "

"That is such a crock. If girls didn't like players, there wouldn't be players because there would be no one to play with." Dean said with a laugh. "Tax lawyer, huh? I don't know, maybe when all this shit finally calms down, we can pretend to be normal for a while."

"And do what?" Sam asked. "I don't know... maybe you could get a job as a bouncer in a strip club or something... mechanic... Can't see anything else keeping your attention for long. "

"Dude, you make me sound like Dad should have doped me up to the gills with Ritalin or something." Dean said as he grabbed the towel. His three hours were up, and that's all Sammy was getting, for threatening him into this thing in the first place. Sure, he felt better now, but still. He had his big brother dignity to hold onto.

"No...but you and normal job just dont mix." Sam said with a laugh. "You'd go insane without a hunt. Face it. "

"Hey, mechanic is a normal job, hate to break it to you." Dean said with a laugh as he sat on the edge of the tub as it emptied and dried himself off

"Yeah, but if you do it in an auto shop you will have to work regular hours and you don't do regular hours."

"Okay. Point to Sam." Dean conceded. He'd lived this irregular life for too long. As had Sam, but Dean didn't have an overwhelming need for mainstream routine. He had his little routines that worked for him. "So, you think we'll both sleep tonight?"

"No... but it's worth a shot. " He said as he handed Dean a bath robe. "Can't be any worse than any other night." He proposed.

"Oh, that's encouraging." Dean said with a laugh as he pulled on the robe. Then he changed his boxers underneath it. "Okay, so guess we'll try. Though seriously, I'm gonna start waking you up for my morning torture session."

"Yeah okay..." Sam said. "What am I supposed to do that early in the morning? Be your cheerleader or something?" He asked with a grin.

"No, just share in my misery." Dean said with a chuckle. "Maybe look for a suitable cheerleader for me."

"Yeah ... that's gonna happen." Sam said grinning a bit. "How about if I just throw my pillows at you and we call it good?"

"Oh, that's supportive." Dean said. "What happened to the Sammy that worshipped the ground I walked on and followed me everywhere?" He teased. "That Sammy would get up at 5 am with me."

"That Sammy was 5." Sam told him. "I think big brother worship ended at about 12." Lies. He still worshipped the ground Dean walked on. Dean was his big brother. The best big brother a guy could have. But there were limits to reasonable worship. And getting up at 5am to watch him go off to swing a sword ... well... that was a bit girly... even for Sam.

"Bitch." Dean said with a laugh. "Fine, I get it. Sammy wants to sleep in. If you actually manage to fall asleep, I'll even let you."

"You better, ya jerk." Sam said with a genuine laugh of his own. He doubted he would sleep through the night. It hadn't happened since New Orleans.

"Well, either you sleep, or sooner or later you collapse. And if you collapse, you're vulnerable to Josh if I happen to be busy. Which you know I will be." Dean said. "I'm talking buzz cut, dude. See, I joke about it. Joshua? He'll do it."

"Dude, that's worse then my threatening to steal your keys.. that's right up there with threatening to paint the Impala day glo yellow or something."

"Whoa, I'm not the one threatening you. Leave my baby out of it." Dean said with his hands up. "I'm just saying Joshua will take advantage of the situation is all, so it's in your best interest to get some sleep."

Sam laughed. "Uh-huh." He said. "Right... you have just as much of a fixation with my hair as Joshua has. Don't think I wont guess who put him up to it." Although Sam figured after the farm house incident, most people didn't want to risk waking Sam up in his sleep.

"I don't have to put him up to anything." Dean said with a laugh. "I'm completely innocent this time out."

"Yeah, there's first." Sam said, with a teasing glint in his eyes. "You haven't been completely innocent since the age of 12."

"Okay, you've got a point." Dean said with a grin. "Come on, Sasquatch, let's get some shut eye before people start waking us up."

"Yeah. It's worth a shot." He said as he moved toward their room and opened the door. Maybe sleep was a good idea. It had been an emotional day.

"And if push comes to shove, I'll just knock you out." Dean said with a grin as he changed into actual sleep worthy clothes when they got back to their room. "Though, gotta tell you, for big savers of the world we are, on paper it's pretty pathetic. We're in our twenties. We live out of a car. And we share a room. Maybe we should invest in bunk beds." Dean joked.

"No wonder we're both single." Sam said with a laugh. "The only thing worse would be if we lived in our grandmother's basement and supported ourselves selling alien artifacts on eBay."

"You're right. It looks much better now." Dean said as he adjusted his pillows to where he wanted them. "Night Sam. And if you snore, I'm shaving an eyebrow off."

"You're the one that snores." Sam said as he slid between the covers and rolled over on his side. "And then complains that I'm not sleeping." He said with a grin.

S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S&S

Life went on in the compound. Ash and Andy helped Bobby scavenge for supplies, Josh was put on food patrol with Father Reynolds. All the big and little decisions were left to Andy and Sam, as Dean trained. And trained. Until he thought his muscles were going to snap off and go on protest in Cancun.

Mickey worked on his people skills. He watched ball games. He said hello and thank you. But it was a work in progress.

Dierdre smiled seeing Mickey in the corridor. He was different. Even more different than the rest of them. She wasn't sure if she believed he was an archangel or not. He was too nice to be an archangel. The others like her.. .well... she pretty much believed like Sam did, that they were all tainted some how. Didn't figure anything holy like an angel could stand to be in the same room with them. But whatever he was, he was different... and he had healed Dean. Sohe couldn't be bad. She walked up to him and held out a wild flower to him.

Mickey stopped and looked at Dierdre, but took the flower with a nod. "Flowers are amazing." He said. "No two are exactly alike, not really. And with so many properties beyond beauty." He said idly.

She nodded, like people, she thought but didn't say. So many different possibilities. Even the most poisonous plant could be used to heal... she wondered if it was the same with people.

"People are like that." Mickey said. "Where I'm from, everything is so black and white. Good, evil, pure, not pure. Down here...everything is gray. Even now, after all this time, I'm not used to it. I don't know how you all exist so well in gray."

She tilted her head a little as she looked at him, not sure she could handle a world that was so black and white. She didn't see the world as gray. Too many colors... beautiful colors in it to be gray. In fact, very little in the world was gray to her way of thinking. Gray was an excuse, a cop out, a way to walk the line between what you knew you should be and what you feared you would become, because one was too much work and the other meant losing all that you were.

"You're right." Mickey said. "I was over simplifying, I guess. People are colorful. You...you're blue." He said, going with the train of thought. It was 'normal' right? And oh so utterly human.

She smiled, she liked that. Blue was such a soothing color. It was nice that he saw her as that color. She also liked that she didn't have to speak for him to understand her. Speaking was... frightening. Things happened when she spoke, terrible things, and then they had demanded that she speak so much in that place. Thinking was simpler... so much less ... bad. She supposed that most would think the angel was white... a gleaming unbearable white, but she didn't see him that way. He was more golden.

"So that's why you don't talk." Mickey said with a nod. Made sense. "Maybe we should get you a dry erase board or something. Or ready made signs. Like, we're out of Pepsi. Or if you all don't shut up, I'm throwing something."

Dierdre laughed at that. It was a sweet laugh. She liked the idea of the last one, even if she was more likely to run out of the room than throw things, she still had the impulse to do so.

Mickey grinned, the image was amusing. He was letting Dean sleep in. He had underestimated the man's dedication to getting the job done, and they couldn't afford to lose valuable time while he recovered from another collapse. So a few hours extra sleep was in order, at least in Mickey's estimation.

"So, golden? I can live with golden, such as the case is." He said with a nod. "The ones like me, we're rarely as pure as Raphael tried to make us out to be."

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, trying not to laugh as the image of babies with wings and cloth diapers crossed her mind. She shook her head. No... angels were not the stuff of infants and harps. They were destruction and protection. Infants were something to cherish and protect, not something to be in awe of... not even with wings.

"Some are." Mickey said. "Your other choirs, they're far more gentle and peaceful. I wasn't made that way."

She wondered if he would rather be of a more peaceful and gentle variety. She would. But she wasn't made that way either. None of them here were. Bobby and Dean probably started out that way... the priest was the only one who had managed to stay that way though. But those three had a choice. None of the rest of them did. They were what they were. Now it was just a matter of whether or not to take the gray scale cop out or find their true colors.

"But you do have a choice." He said gently. "You may not have had a choice on what has happened to you, or what situations you'll be put in," he'd been forced to bend on that view, much to his amusement really, "but how you'll react, you have a choice. Maybe you can't choose your color, but I think you can choose your shade."

She hadn't even known that she had been different before being picked up by the government for their experiments. She had learned that she could control people at government hands. The government and the yellow eyed man that Sam said was a demon. She had thought he meant it metaphorically until recently. Dierdre had been told exactly how horrible her kind was and powerless she was to fight it. She believed that. At least about herself. Hence the silence. Her only control over it as far as she knew. So in that regard she supposed he was right.

"Dierdre, you know whatI am. I have no free will, I do as I'm commanded. I do what I've been created for. I'm an archangel. Even more, I'm pretty much the chief archangel." Michael said. "If you were evil, or any of you here were evil, do you think I could let you be? That I could turn my back and just let you all live? Obviously no one's been turned into salt, and lightning hasn't rained down from the skies."

Deirdre's eyes clouded over and she held back the tears with the practiced ease of one who knew that tears were a punishable offense. She had killed people. Caused them unbelievable pain. All in the name of self preservation because she could have fallen silent from the beginning and let them hurt her or kill her instead. She had free will. She had chosen... and that choice was something she could never forgive herself for. It was easy to cloud it over and get through the daily life with the lie that she had been given no choice, but underneath it all, she knew the truth. She didn't think even the priest could absolve her from that darkness.

Mickey looked at her for a long moment as she tried to stop her face from crumpling. He'd learned a few things about humans over the eons. They liked to be touched, even when they claimed they didn't. He pulled her to him. "You are not dark. You've had dark things happen to you, but trust me. If anyone here can see darkness that needs to be smited or punished, it would be me. And I'm not, am I?" He said. "Lapis lazuli. That's a nice stone."She began to sob then, tears that hadn't fallen since the first few days of her capture. She didn't know if it was a cleansing cry. She had heard of such things. Never really understood how bawling could cleanse anything except maybe the eyes. But it was a relief to let it out. Like the valve on a pressure cooker really.

"It's all right." He said. "Whether you really believe in God is your choice," though he couldn't ever understand how that could be optional, "but know He's given you a great gift. Hope."

How could she be standing in the embrace of an angel and not believe in God? That would make no sense. No, she had always believed in God. It was why she found the priest's presence so comforting. But since the nightmare had begun, she had found it hard to believe that God could still love her, or accept her. How do you ask forgiveness for something that is a part of you? It would be like asking forgiveness for being tone deaf or color blind. Would she have to ask forgiveness every day? It was too much wrap her brain around so she hadn't.

"There is nothing to be forgiven." Mickey said softly into her hair as she cried. "He never stopped. And neither did you, so there is nothing to forgive."

She had chosen herself over the others she had made do things for the lab's benefit. She had chosen wrong... she didn't know how that could ever be alright, but here was an angel telling her it was okay.

"It's all right." Mickey just kept saying soothingly. "It really is darkest before the dawn. You can't see it now, but things do get better, even if they seem like they get worse first."

She wiped her eyes. She didn't know if things would get better or not, but she supposed Mickey of all people would know better than most. But then again he was an angel. His idea of getting better after seeming to get worse could be waking up in heaven after a horrific death. And the way the world was going. Horrific death was entirely possible.

"That's not getting better. That's heaven. A whole other idea." Mickey said, smoothing back her hair and meeting her eyes. "Better on this world. You'll see it."

She looked into his dark eyes and smiled a little. She found a little hope there. The angel wasn't as insensitive as he pretended to be... or perhaps thought he was. Warriors weren't two dimensional after all. Not even those without free will.

"Shhh." He said. "Don't tell anyone, or write it or anything. I do have a reputation as an impossible hard ass to maintain you know."

She smiled then and made motions of crossing her heart. She wouldn't tell anyone. She didn't think it would take them much longer to figure it out on their own, if they would only look.

"Eh, they won't. They like the image they have of me. It helps their world make sense." Mickey said with a shrug. "Whatever gets them through the night I guess."

She didn't know if they liked the image or not, but they certainly clung to it. Although she suspected that was because most of them felt at least a little as she did, but at least half of them... half of them were bitter. They hadn't figured out who to blame for what they had become or been forced to do. So God was the top candidate. Not for allowing it to happen, but for allowing the demons to exist in the first place. Sam was one of those. So much torment in those dark eyes. She felt sad for Sam. She didn't think he saw hope in anything anymore.

"He sees glimmers of hope. In his brother, but that's about it." Mickey said. "He seems to have his whole existence wrapped up in Dean, it's hard to seperate the two. Would even be stupid to try. But unfortunately, he has to 'fix' himself."

She nodded. It was still sad. But there wasn't anything anyone else could do for him. Except for maybe Dean, but she wasn't sure how much help Dean would actually be since Dean was as broken inside as Sam was. It was so obvious in his eyes. She wondered why more people didn't look at eyes. Not just at their colors but into them to what was behind them.

"Because they're afraid to." Mickey said. "They need Sam to be whole. And for Sam to be whole, they need Dean to be whole. Admitting there are cracks in either one of them means their whole reality could crumble."

She knew that it was natural for Sam to be their leader. it was hardwired into them all. Something the demon had done she was sure. To make Sam the leader of his little army. She had to wonder how many others there were out there that would have that natural pull ... a charisma that they would all find hard to resist. But thoughts like that brought the nightmares back.

"Relax. For right now." It was the most he could promise, the most he could assure. "Right now you're safe. Nothing is coming into this compound." Certainly nothing demonic. Not with him here. It wasn't ego, but there was a reason why demons remained outside of Heaven's light. Because they couldn't defeat him. They'd tried, and failed each time. So for right now, this compound he could promise was a safe haven.

She nodded. That would have to do for now. In fact, it was better than she'd had in a good long while. She just hoped that it stayed that way. She was grateful to him for talking to her, for hearing what she would have said if she had believed it was safe to say it.

"If it ever does help, if you miss the sound of your own voice, I can guarantee your abilities don't work on me." Mickey said. "I'm a whole other sort, remember?"

She smiled and nodded. Although she had been told that their abilities didn't work on each other either. But she wasn't ready to cross that line yet. It still frightened her to even think about it.

"Then again, silence does have its merits. Most of the people around here are far too loud for unnecessary reasons." Mickey said with a chuckle.

Dierdre nodded emphatically at that. She suspected it was because they were forced to be quiet for far too long. At least that was what she thought. Then there was Sam and Dean who seemed to be making up for the world they couldn't really see, with each other and as much noise as they could surround themselves with. Non stop banter to make up for friends they didn't allow themselves to have.

"You might have a point there." Mickey said. "Though it does get irritating. At least from my view. But a little world is being made, right here in this place. It can be enough if everyone lets it."

She would have thought heaven was a noisy place, even if supposedly peaceful and idyllic. What with all the non stop singing of praise going on. But then what did she know? Interpretations of a place never seen by men long ago dead, probably wasted on the wrong mushrooms in their cream of mushroom soup at the time.

"No, I don't think it was drugs. Though many of them did imbibe on wine a little too much for their health." Mickey said. "And they were writing down a beautiful story. Heaven is...indescribable and incomprehensible to mortals. As it should be."

Dierdre nodded. There wasn't much to say to that really. He knew what was there after all. She didn't know if it was a place she wanted to be or not, but she knew she didn't want to go to the alternative. It was supposed to be worse than anything one could endure on earth and she had been through things she wouldn't come through a second time... Hell was equally incomprehensible to her, but fear was a better motivator than promises of eternal peace and servitude to God.

"Couldn't tell you. I look at heaven from a far different perspective. Everyone here thinks it's a reward. Me? It's home." A home he saw far too infrequently, really. But archangels, at the top of the hierarchy of angels, were also the closest to humans. Location and proximity wise anyway. Sometimes, it seemed like he really was a soldier the way humans viewed a soldier, on an extended tour of duty in a foreign land.

Everyone that had ever gone to Sunday school was taught that heaven was a reward. That even the slightest smallest sin was enough to cause you to lose that reward. It seemed a bit extreme to her. All or nothing, but she supposed that a perfect being with absolute authority had the right to be picky about who got to be in his presence after all. It just seemed extreme to cast those that didn't share his perfection into eternal torment. She regretted the thoughts as soon as she had them. With Mickey, those thoughts weren't so private and she didn't want to offend him. Not out of fear of him but more out of consideration. She knew she should fear the archangel but the only person she really feared (government officials not withstanding) was herself.

"All those rules...they were written by Man." Mickey said. "To instill fear and control, it's the way of Man. God is a lot more lenient than people give him credit for. To be banished from His light and to go to hell...it takes a lot, Dierdre. A lot more than even you think yourself capable of. And while everyone should strive to live a good life of charity and generosity and goodness, drinking to excess, premarital sex, shoplifting, justifiable homicide...it doesn't damn you. He looks more at what's inside you."

Once more she hoped that he was right, and couldn't see any reason that he wouldnt be. There were a lot of people in the compound that could use a bit of a reward after all they had been through. Things they hadn't even taken steps that would accidentally bring it all down on their heads. It was good that there would be some peace eventually. It was the word charity that gave her pause for a moment. It brought to mind images of the priest, and suddenly her eyes widened. She was late!

Mickey chuckled and release her. "Run along." He said with a grin. "Thanks for the chat."

She smiled at him, beaming happily. She had enjoyed their talk, even if she had started to cry all over him. She waved to him as she left, hurrying off to find the priest.

Father Reynolds was humming a tune, something by Buddy Holly, as he went through the food they had, making a list for Joshua on his next field trip. Flour, eggs, things like that. Much to the dismay of several of the residents there wasn't much frozen food going on, it was cost prohibitive after all.

Dierdre rushed into the galley with an apologetic look on her face, she motioned with her hands first to indicate talking and then flapping wings.

Father Reynolds laughed, though he was sure Mickey would be less than amused to know that in Dierdre's pantomine, he looked like a chicken. "It's quite all right. I was just going through what we have and don't have." He said. She didn't look distressed or upset, so Mickey had apparently been gentle with her. Which was good.

She offered to take over the writing part if he wanted so that he could spend his effort digging in the cupboards and things. Things had gotten much better in the kitchen since Father Reynolds and Sergeant York had arrived.

He handed Dierdre the papers and hunched down to go through the bottom cabinets. "Cereal." He said, for her to put on the list. "So you and Mickey had a good chat? Good. It was probably good for the both of you."

She nodded cheerfully, and frowned for a moment then took an extra piece of paper and wrote He doesn't need to hear my voice to hear me.

"He's not like us. He's not human." Father Reynolds said. "There is a lot of myth and parables surrounding angels, especially the archangels, I don't know how it works, but I do know he's not exactly telling." He said with a chuckle. "But that's good." A real conversation for Dierdre.

She smiled again and looked up as Sam came into the room. "Hey, how are things going in here?" He asked heading to the freezer to get some ice for a glass of water.

"Swimmingly." Father Reynolds said. "And how are you today?" Dierdre had been talking to Mickey, which meant Dean got to sleep in, which meant Sam got to sleep in. Chaos theory at its best.

"Not too bad. Thinking about heading out for a bit, need anything while I am out?" Little things he could get. He would leave big shopping to Andy and Josh. Between the two of them, they could bring just about anything home.

"Bacon would be good." Father Reynolds said. "And one of those movies that just came out on video. I think everyone would appreciate it, something funny."

Sam nodded. "I can do that." He smiled. "I'm sure I can come up with something people want to see. If not, give Ash a while on the internet and he could have a whole list ready to view."

"I'm sure he can." Father Reynolds said. He'd noticed that everyone here, even the 'normal' people, were amazing in their own ways, had talents that hardly anyone outside the compound had. They were quite the group.

"But I will see what I can find at the store. I have my cell on if anyone needs me." He said as he turned to leave the room and the compound. He needed some time out ... some time out from under as well. He didn't mind the responsibility but like every other job on the face of the planet, no matter how much you love it... you need a day off. He got into the Impala and began to drive, heading past the small town and on toward the larger city. He pulled out the cell phone once he was far enough away that it wouldn't do anyone any good to triangulate his cell phone signal he dialed Allen McKendrick's number.

Allen picked up on the fourth ring. "Sam, it's been a while." He said genially. "How've you been?" Anyone could see how Allen was. As front runner on the presidential trail, his every move was documented.

Sam smiled. "Not bad really. Just thought I would check in to see how you were doing... really doing. You're doing great politically I see. "

"It's tiring." Allen said. "And weird to always be watched. I get the paper, and some TV station is taking my picture. I didn't think getting the paper was that interesting. But it'll be over soon enough. I can't wait."

"Then you will be in the White House and they will be scrutinizing every thing you say and do even if they don't get a picture of it. Are you sure you really want this?"

"I do. Inspite of all of that." Allen said. "It's been my goal since I was in second grade I think. Most kids wanted to be astronauts or baseball players. Me? I wanted to be president. It's worth any sacrifice of privacy."

"Then I hope you succeed. Someone should get thier life long goal after all. " He told him, He would never get his. His lifelong ambition was to be normal. "Almost wish I was there with you... almost." He added. "All that publicity would be very bad for me."

"I'll get you and your brother your pardons." Allen promised. After all, Sam had to have a clean name. And unfortunately at the moment he and his brother came part and parcel.

"Thanks. I would love to say that I don't want to take advantage of the situation, but I can't afford to be that selfless right now. It would take a huge weight off my shoulders not to have to worry about the government coming after us. Still have nightmares about that one."

"I don't blame you." Allen said. "I can tell you the general congress knew nothing about it." Because if they had, Allen would have voted against it, and brought it out to the public. Because it so easily could have turned against him, and he would have ended up in Sam's shoes.

"I really appreciate it. Once things are cleared up... who knows? Might need to network a little again. I'm good at paperwork after all." He said with a laugh. He had liked the job with McKendrick, in spite of the constant pain in his head.

"You know you can just call me. I figure the first year I'll have enough paperwork to go around. And there's no networking like networking with the president, right?" Allen said with a laugh. "I know you're not going to tell me where you and the rest are, but do you have everything you need? Anything I can shunt over to you guys?"

"We're good." He said honestly. "Doing better than I had thought we would. Especially considering everything people have been through. We have everything we need. Thanks for offering."

"Okay good." Allen said. "Gotta tell you, though, I miss being a senator already. I'm never 'off', everyone's always expecting a soundbite they can quote. Either the media, or my own campaigners, looking for something catchy to put on an ad. It's tiring."

"You ever consider just... ditching the masses for a few hours or maybe even a weekend? You can take yourself off the radar." Sam suggested. "It's not that hard to fade into the wood work. "

"Wish I could. But this really is a business of out of sight, out of mind. I'm coming into it late as it is." Allen said, mournfully. "So guess you'll just have to have the vacation for me."

"Well... things will calm down once you are in office. Otherwise every single president to date would leave office in a hug me jacket."

"Oh, I'm sure half the top secret diplomatic conferences at Camp David are invented, just to regain sanity." Allen said with a laugh. "Listen, I have to go. More stumping. Take care of yourself, all right?"

"Always. Talk to you later." Sam said as he hung up. It felt good to talk to someone who honestly understood. Even if there were others in the compound who were tainted like him, McKendrick was the only one that actually seemed to get Sam- to understand what drove him. Although it was a little strange to consider a presidential candidate as your friend.

He part the car in front of the department store and wandered inside.

"Can I help you?" One of the salesmen asked as soon as Sam walked in, shadows flickering a bit in the racks and shelves.

"I'm just looking for the video department." He said. "I can find it. Thanks." He looked toward the shelves and wrote it off. Sometimes shadows were supposed to be there after all.

"All right. Call us if you need any help." The salesman said as he moved away. The man at the counter started smacking the sound system as it crackled a bit.

"Damn thing. I think we need a new one again!" He called out.

Sam nodded, wondering if he were still in the hicks or something. The place was so dark. He found the DVDs back in the back of the shop and started browsing the comedy section, losing himself in thought as he tried to find something that wouldnt bring up strange issues with any of the people.

"Personally I find the Saw collection hilarious." A man said, right in Sam's ear. His very tone was serpentine and silkily smooth.

"Never bothered to watch them." Sam said. His blood ran cold in that moment but he didn't bother looking to see if the man's eyes were yellow. "Nothing but torture porn with very little redeaming value. Not good enough to enjoy, not bad enough to make fun of. "

"I get great joy out of their screams, even if it is acting." He said. "Let's take a walk." And it wasn't a request.

Sam laughed softly, even if it wasn't a humorous sound. "I don't think so."

"I'm amused that you think you have a choice." The man said. "I crawled out of hell. Do you think you stand a chance against me? Especially since Michael isn't here? And your brother isn't here to save you either."

"My dad crawled out of hell too. Not so impressive when a human can do it." He said as he picked up a movie to look at the case with one hand as he fiddled with his cell phone in his pocket with the other. "What do you want? Other than to get me off some place alone ?"

"Put the cell phone down. You guessed my game plan. Now come quietly, or come with a fuss, I don't care." He said, grabbing Sam's arm.

Sam looked around to see who all was in the shop and figured he could take the fight outside and started to walk toward the back door. He wasn't going to go quietly. Neither did he put the cell phone down. He dialed Bobby's cell phone number but took his hand out of his pocket leaving it there waiting for an answer or a hit to his answering machine. It would some clue as to when what ever was about to go down went down.

It had taken him a while to come back. And he wasn't at 'full strength' yet. But neither was his rival, so that was all right for the moment. They'd both cashed in serious favors to walk the Earth again, no one, even with the last name of Winchester, was going to stand in their way, as he followed Sam outside and grabbed him quickly once he was out.

Bobby answered his cell phone. "Hello?" He said. "Hello?" No response. "Damn kids." Then he heard something in the background. So he stayed on the line, his hunter sense tingling worse than Spiderman's spidey sense had ever tingled.

"I'm not going to make this easy on you." Sam said as he flung the demon off of him and into the wall. "You don't have your government goons doing your dirty work anymore. "

"I don't need your government." The demon sneered, as Bobby listened closely and motioned for one person to grab Ash (to track down the signal) and another to get Dean.

"I'm leaving now. And not with you." Sam pointed out as he began to back away from the demon. He knew it would be a miracle if he got out of this situation, but he would be damned if he just laid down and took it.

"You act like you have a choice." The demon said. "As if you really want to stay. Play savior to a bunch of lost kids, I'm offering you more than that. And most of all, I'm making you take it."

"You're offering me more? All you are offering me isa chance to be your slave, to become a drone from hell. " He continued to take steps backwards.

The demon grabbed Sam by the shirt front, pulling him forward until he was nose to nose with Sam, seemingly growing in stature as he looked Sam in the eye. Yellow eyes to dark eyes. Nose to nose. Smirk to grimly set jaw. "You don't have a choice."

David hurried out to the clearing where Dean and Mickey were training. "Dean... Bobby sent me to get you. He said it's about Sam and you have to hurry."

All Dean heard was 'it's about Sam,' and he was running back to the compound, spiking the sword into the ground on his way. Let the kid out of his sight for two seconds and something obviously happened. "What?" Dean said, bursting into the room where Ash was already setting up shop.

"Sam went into town to run some errands." Bobby began hating having to tell Dean, but he did, not sparing any details. "Ash is triagulating his cell phone signal, we're gonna find him."

Dean paced. And watched Ash, who ignored Dean. "He's got my car." Dean said, covering his worry for his brother with worry for his car. "Okay, get me a set of keys, I'll find him."

Mickey came in and shook his head. "Not an option." He said.

"What? I don't remember asking you." Dean said.

"One of the two demons has him." Mickey said. "So, other than Sam, who's someone that one of the demons wants?"

"He has a point." Bobby said. "Let the rest of us take care of this one." He said looking pointedly at the archangel, as if to say if Dean was staying put, then Mickey was damned well going.

"What? No." Dean said. "Absolutely not. That's my brother out there. I'm not going to sit here on my ass and twiddle my thumbs and wait for everyone else to take care of it. No way. Deal with it."

Bobby nodded, not having really expected anything less, but he had to give it a shot. "I'll gear up. But I gotta tell ya we are going to be getting short shrift on this one. I don't believe for a minute he is going at this alone. He has to know that Michael is here training you."

"I doubt he's going to work with Tamiel. Those two have a serious hatred for each other. Trust me, I had Azazel in my head for a bit, I know." Dean said. "Fine, we'll go. Though I think you guys should stay behind, protect this place."

"There are more than two demons in hell, son. " Bobby pointed out. "Ash and the father can help the others seal this place up tighter than a drum while we're gone. Nothing is going to get in here. "

"I got him, but he's moving. " Ash said as he poured over the screen of his mangled lap top.

"Then we better move too." Dean said, grabbing the keys to Bobby's car. "I'll dial you up and you can play GPS for us."

"Works for me." Said Ash. "Don't forget the sword." Mickey told Dean as he started to hurry past. "It's too soon to do this, you know. You go out there, you will die today... and if you fail, the human race fails with you."

"Got it." Dean said with a shrug. "So I won't fail. But if I sit back and something happens to Sam because I didn't try, I'd rather be dead, human race be damned. So thanks for the training and all. Guess we'll see just how good a teacher you are."

Bobby picked up a bag of gear and started to walk with Dean. He wasn't letting him take on this demon head on by himself. He didn't know what the archangel had in mind, but if he wasn't there on the scene when the time came as far as Bobby was concerned, he could take his feathered wings and stuff them.

Mickey shot Bobby a leveled glare for that one as he followed Dean out to retrieve the sword.

"I know you care for your brother." Mickey said. "But you need to think this through. Taking him on now? You're not ready."

"I don't care." Dean said. "I swore I'd watch out for Sam. And when he gets in messes like this, he counts on me to help him out." He'd said so himself. As childish as that thought sounded to even Dean. He picked up the sword and looked at it. "Look, either I'm meant to do this, or you've had the wrong guy all along.""Dean, don't waste your time arguing the point." Bobby said. "We'll get Sam back, let's go." If not, then he suspected all three of them would be going down. But it would be better than living through the aftermath.

Mickey shook his head, but followed them to Bobby's car. And got in the backseat. He didn't know where Azazel was. And right now, he needed to stick close to Dean, to ensure Dean at least had the chance to take on the fallen. With him in the backseat, any minor demon that was sent after them would run the other way and not interrupt them.

Dean got in the passenger seat and dialed up Ash so Ash could send directions as he got them. "Who's idea was it to let Sam go into town alone?" He asked tightly.

"Sam's. Don't know if you've noticed this Dean, but Sam is not a little boy anymore. He's a grown man that can make his own decisions." Bobby pointed out.

"Wrong answer." Dean said. "It was Sam's decision to go to town. It was the rest of you who let him go alone." He pointed out. "Just because he's an adult doesn't mean he has the right to make bad, dangerous decisions!"

"Yeah? Seems to work for you." Bobby grumbled. "And your old man. " He shook his head. "We are not going to make Sam live in a plastic bubble."

"If we have to, yes we are." Dean shot back. He looked out at the passing scenery through the window and shook his head. "Sam's different from me and Dad. He deserves better than this, but I can't protect him if he won't let me."

"And you are going to give him a better life by wrapping him up in cotton batting and making him feel like he is inept?" Bobby countered.

"If I could, I would." Dean said. "Because he'd be alive, right? I shouldn't have let him drag me back out into this all after new Orleans. He was starting to have a life, you know. Maybe none of this would have happened."

"Do you ever stop to listen to the words that come out of your mouth? " Bobby asked, incredulously. "What is it with you Winchesters? Is there anything in those hard heads other than concrete? " He shook his head. "I know it's hard for you boys to accept but sometimes ... sometimes life is out of your control and you really are helpless to stop it. Your friend back there talks an awful lot about free will. Well, the down side to free will is everyone has it and while the Almighty can't interfere with it, the demons and so called humanity could give a rat's ass. Bad things happen to good people and it's no one's fault but the son of a bitch dishing it out. You need to get a grip on this before you face that yellow eyed bastard. That's the first thing he is going to use against you. Your own goddamned guilt. So suck it up."

Dean turned in his seat until he faced Bobby. "Suck it up? Suck it up? All I've been doing is sucking it up. My whole life is nothing but one big sucking it up. Do not tell me to suck it up anymore or I swear I will punch you." Dean snapped. "I may have 'chosen' to do this, but I don't 'want' to do it. I'm tired, Bobby. I'm so goddamn tired." He ignored Mickey as the archangel cleared his throat at that. "This is what I have to do. Saving the rest of the world doesn't mean anything to me if Sam gets sacrificed along the way. So you suck it up. Both of you."

"What you have to do right now is face that demon." Bobby said firmly. "And you can't let yourself focus on how you think... and believe me, it's only you that thinks that way... how you screwed it up in the first place. You can't give the son of a bitch ammo. If you do, both you and Sam are gonna die tonight."

Dean clenched his jaw at that. "Fine." He bit out.

"It will be easy." Mickey said. "Not the fight part. Certainly not that part. The clearing your mind part." Dean was untainted by the demons, the archangel could help with that. If he had had more time, he wouldn't have had to.

"If you can help him out here, now would sure be the time to do it." Bobby said looking at the Archangel.

"No it wouldn't." Mickey replied evenly. He'd give Dean a chance to do it himself. If, when the moment came, Winchester couldn't do it, then Mickey would do it. And that was that. No roughneck hunter was changing his mind on that one.

Dean rubbed his temples as he turned the radio up to alleviate his headache, checking his cellphone for directions. "Can't you drive faster, Bobby? Come on, I know you can drive faster.""I'm driving 85 now. Once we get the final location, I'll put the lead in it." Bobby said. He didn't like the idea of back tracking. He doubted the yellow eyed bastard would be harming Sam. Sam was the worm at the end of the hook as well as the prodigal he wanted to bring home. Counter productive, and that demon was anything but counter productive.

Dean's knee bounced as his boot tapped on the car floor. Worry, impatience, anticipation all in one. They were lucky it was expressed in just his knee. He could have been rocking the whole seat, if not the whole car with everything bundled and bunched up inside. "Fine." He said, staring at the cellphone and willing more directions to come through.

The cell phone rang and Bobby wouldn't have been surprised if it hit the roof of the car as Dean jerked into motion to grab it."Okay...they've stopped moving." Came Ash's voice "Gotta say though, I think it's a trap. Big time trap. You can't tell me he doesn't know Sam's cell is on."

Dean ran his hand over his face. He'd been thinking that the entire time as Bobby drove. "I know." He told Ash as he relayed the directions to Bobby. "I don't have a choice though. Not a real one."

"I know man. Its Sam...He'd do the same for you... just be careful. I do not want to have to deal with what he will be like if you come back in anything less than perfect condition, man... your brother... he's one scary son of a bitch when you get hurt."