Title: Recrudescence

Author: ghost4

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do own a 'Vampire Attraction Candle' a friend bought for me from a hoodoo shop in New Orleans, once. So I may own something supernatural. But I doubt it works, really, so probably not.

Author's notes: Fight! Fight! Fight! Or something.

And I'll say it again: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It was appreciated. You have no idea how much.

As always, any comments, good, bad, or indifferent, are more than welcome.

When there's lightning
You know it always brings me down
'Cause it's free and I see
that its me who's lost and never found…

No sign of the morning coming
You've been left on your own
Like a rainbow in the dark,
A rainbow in the dark

Do your demons-do they ever let you go?
When you try
Do they hide deep inside
Is it someone that you know?

~Dio – Rainbow in the Dark

They were everywhere. The angels suddenly filled the church – two in both transepts and two more in the nave, blocking the main doors. Dean cursed as he counted, automatically taking a step toward Castiel, and dragging an unimpressed Sam with him. "Cas, what the hell just happened?"

"She broke the antimension," the angel growled, his blade leaping to his hand.

"So?"

"So then the angels could hear me, Dean," Meg said, sounding like she was speaking to a slow child. "And I said the magic word."

Castiel glared. "You led them to us."

"Wow, he's the bright one, isn't he? No wonder you guys had so much trouble with him as your guide."

"Enough, pornai." Dean stiffened as Raphael stepped from the shadows behind Meg. "I needed you to locate them, but do not for one moment think that you will be allowed to insult an angel. Even for one such as him, you are less than the dust under his heel."

"Whatever you say, Ducks," she muttered. "I can just watch. It turns me on." She blew a little kiss at Dean.

Raphael ignored her, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.

Castiel's shoulders hunched and his jaw worked as he watched the elder angel approach.

"We are so screwed," Dean muttered.

"We are," agreed Castiel. "He must have half his forces here."

"Any way for you to get a message out?"

"No."

"Shit."

"There is no reason for you two to panic," Raphael said, and the smile on his face was anything but pleasant. "I have no plans to damage you yet. At least, not physically."

"Then what the hell do you want?" Dean's hand worked restlessly around the grip of his useless pistol.

Raphael simply looked past Dean –

– at Sam.

"No." It was as much snarl as word, and Dean stepped between the archangel and his bleeding brother. "No fucking way. You aren't touching him. No."

Raphael's eyes flicked to Dean, glowing with irritation. "You don't tell me no, primate."

Instantly, the world flipped – and Dean was flying backwards, slamming into the leading edge of the transept. All the air whooshed from his lungs as his back hit the corner so hard that he felt something let go with a bright, electric pop – an agony that faded far to quickly into a dull warm heaviness that was so much worse then pain. He tried to gasp as black bosomed in his vision, struggling to pull oxygen into lungs that felt flat and horribly pressed, somehow. Vaguely he was aware that he was kicking, but his feet found no purchase. There was no ground under him.

Somewhere near there was the scraping clang of metal on metal. The muffled grunts and shouts of a fight. But it was far and fading away with each second that he hadn't taken a breath – right, he had to breathe.

He gasped, a thin burning whoop of air that only half filled his starving lungs…but it was enough to clear his vision. Blurrily, he could see a form hovering in front of his eyes. A form whose own eyes glimmered with a golden light. A form that was holding him about six feet off the ground by his throat.

He still had his gun. His training had never failed, even when he was half dead. Thank god for Dad.

He lifted the pistol with an arm that didn't want to move. He buried it in the belly of the creature holding him and pulled the trigger over and over again.

The angel winced, looked down at the damage, and growled. It shook him like a rag doll, bouncing his skull off the wall. "Settle down," it ordered. "This won't take long."

He didn't have much choice. He dangled in its grip, barely sucking air through his compressed throat, and he was out of ammo.

Fuck.

Sam's struggle was already over. Dean could see him in the center of the crossway. An angel was holding him on his knees, arms pulled behind his back – too high and too tight not to be straining his shoulders; but Sam only knelt quietly, staring up at Raphael with murder in his eyes. Dean felt a little pang of pride when he saw that Sam's angel had a busted nose. At least he'd gotten in one good hit.

Across the nave, Castiel was still fighting. One angel had gone down under his blade, though it was still moving. But there were three more. Working together, they disarmed him fairly quickly. He sung a punch at one, and another grabbed his hand. Holding his hands behind his back, they forced him to his knees. Even from across the wide nave, Dean could see the blood dripping from the re-opened wounds on his back, and from his nose and ears. And Dean knew the other angels had used more then just their blades.

Castiel's fight lasted longer than his and Sam's, but the outcome was just as inevitable. There were just too many of them for Cas to take alone. Two of the angels held Castiel pinned, while the third stepped in front of him. He raised his blade, obviously going for the kill.

"Stop," Raphael ordered.

The blade hesitated. "He betrayed our kind. He is a blasphemer. Death is the judgment for such crimes," the executioner said.

"Oh, he will die, Zadkiel. But when I will it. First he will witness the return of our brother and the end of this petty little world he has grown to fond of. He will be unable to stop the deaths of his little pets. And, when he has felt all of that – all of the destruction and despair that his little rebellion has brought down on those he cares for – then I may be merciful and send him to meet our Father."

Zedkiel stepped back, obviously not happy, and just as obviously unwilling to risk Raphael's wrath.

Raphael didn't even wait to see that his orders were followed. He gestured at the angel holding Sam, and Dean fought back the urge to smirk as he noted the angel's face was bruising spectacularly. Sam had a wicked right cross. That urge passed quickly, though, as the creature dragged Sam to his feet, and shoved him up the stair toward the altar where Raphael and Meg lingered.

Dean could feel his pulse speed, hammering in his head, in his throat. His skin crawled as he watched his brother forced up the stairs, forced to his knees before the angel and the demon, and he wanted to be sick.

Sam was almost too calm, numb. Cold. He knelt where the angel shoved him, but he looked up meeting Raphael's eyes without hesitation.

"Brazen," Raphael almost spit, glaring at him.

Sam only smiled, his first real smile since he'd gotten back…and there was a malevolence in the expression that shuddered Dean, even across the room and aimed at someone else. "As brazen as an angel who tries to free the devil?" he asked.

Raphael hit him, a wide, open handed swing that rocked Sam back against the legs of the angel holding him down. "Don't push me, beast. I have no tolerance for you."

Sam turned his head to the side, spit red, and then looked back at the archangel – and there was no trace of the blow in his body-language or expression. "Then why am I still breathing?"

For a second both the angel holding Sam down and Meg looked…nonplused by Sam's lack of fear and pain. But Raphael only smiled. "Thankfully, none of us will have to suffer that much longer."

"Let him go!" Dean shouted, even though it came out in a strangled croak, and his personal gorilla slammed him into the wall again.

Sam didn't even seem to hear him, all of his attention was locked on the archangel, lording above him. His face was swelling from the blow, his arms were twisted so far behind his back that his shoulders had to be screaming, and the wet, bloody patch on his chest was growing ever wider. But none of it registered. He stared at Raphael not with fear, but almost with anticipation.

"Why?" Castiel asked, hoarse and angry. "What good can this possibly do you, Raphael?"

"The demon says that the abomination can open the lock on the cage. And then I have the power to push the door wide. I will bring our brother out of darkness and finish our Father's great work right here, right now, and with one simple stroke."

Raphael grabbed the back of Sam's head, pulling him backward, arching him, so that his chest was open and exposed. Dean's head swam as he kicked out at the angel holding him only to end up, curled on the floor, every nerve in his body shrieking – and he could only look up through tear-filled eyes as Raphael raised the blade.

The angel looked at his Sacrifice. "I would ask you if you were ready to meet your maker, but you already have."

"Do it," Sam hissed, staring unflinchingly at his killer. "Do it!" He was trembling in Raphael's grip, though Dean couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger or pain…or something darker than all three…if maybe Sam wanted this. Maybe he wanted a way out.

It broke Dean's heart. "Sam, no."

If Sam heard him, he didn't react. For the first time he seemed…alive, his eyes shining, body tense and ready to fight. He was there, completely. But only now, when he was facing death.

"You are willing?" Raphael asked. "I knew you were an abomination, but I had no idea you were so happy to rejoin him."

"I'm not happy. But I am willing. To rejoin him." Sam laughed, a brief bark of a sound so hard and sharp that it was like broken glass being shaken in a bag, and Dean winced. "Do it. And as soon as my blood opens the cage, he'll come…he'll come for me. And I'll let him in…I will. I'll like it. Hell, I'm half him as it is – I'll be whole."

The archangel hesitated. "You over estimate your value, human."

Sam grinned, and it was a mirror of the same gentle cruelty that had sat so well on Lucifer. It was the expression of a conqueror, dominate and possessive. It should have looked out of place on someone held down, on his knees in front of his enemy – but somehow it wasn't. That expression said that Sam would not be stopped, and that Raphael had already lost the war. Still smiling, Sam spoke: "I'm still his vessel. He still needs me. You kill me to let him out, and he'll bring me back to be his vessel, and I'll say yes. With one condition." Raphael's grip on the blade shifted as Sam's grin grew wider.

"He'll have to raze Heaven," Sam's smile became lazy and dreamlike. "He'll kill all of you for me. To have me. Kill you all, and burn Heaven to its foundations."

"He can't," Raphael hissed in a tone somewhere between rage and disgust.

Sam laughed again. "Oh, yes. He can. The only one strong enough to stop him was Michael, and Michael hasn't faired so well down there. He didn't have the skills. Didn't know the territory. His vessel is gone, and he is weakened. And he's still down there, with no vessel, no armor. With him.

"You can't know that," the archangel hissed, wincing.

"Oh, I can. I can feel him. Waiting. Planning. He whispers in the back of my brain, sometimes. He'll give me anything I want if I let him back in," and the dream quality to Sam's eyes and voice vanished as he suddenly locked gazes with the archangel. "And I'm telling you, as soon as he gets out, he can have me. He just has to do this one little thing first. He just has to lay Heaven to waste."

Raphael shook his head. "Michael will be freed, too," he said, "And he is stronger than him."

And Sam nodded easily. "He was. But the cage changes things. Destroys things. It rots away pieces of you, leaves behind a hollow that can't be soothed. Michael is tattered. But Lucifer? Lucifer survived there for two millennia. He knows all the tricks. Trust me." The last words came out all most as a purr… but one with teeth. "He will rip through you like fire through tissue paper. He'll turn you all to ash."

For the first time real terror entered Raphael's eyes. "But if you make that deal, the earth will burn as well."

"Yep," Sam agreed, his voice regretful, but no more than that. "But I'm done with being the bartering chip for other people. This time, I make the deal. This time, it's my choice. And I'm going to trade the whole damned world – both yours and mine."

"You won't," Raphael hissed, eyes wide and appalled. "You can't."

"Hide and watch me," Sam smiled, pulling free of Raphael's loose fingers. "Dean will live. I'll make sure of that. He may be the only human that does, but if the humans have to go, at least we take you with us, you cold-hearted, soulless, son-of-a-bitch."

Raphael shook his head. "No. No! Not even the Morning Star is that strong."

"Maybe not once," Sam said, no trace of fear or doubt in his eyes or expression. "But he's had a millennium of rage building up. I know how much. I've felt it. I still feel it. And your side..? Michael's broken, Gabriel's gone. Who exactly do you have to stop him? You, Raphael? Can you even slow him down?" The smile was slick and cold, now. "I look forward to seeing you try."

Raphael took a step back, lowering his blade. His eyes flickered around the room, at the other angels gathered there, looking back at him nervously. Then the archangel's gaze hit on Dean. And he smiled.

"You've forgotten," the angel gloated at Sam, pointing the blade at Dean like a teacher pointing out an answer on the board. "Michael will have a vessel when he is free. His true vessel. He'll be strong once again."

For the first time Sam's eyes left Raphael. He looked at Dean. Their gazes met, and Dean recognized his brother; not a broken mind, not a tormented soul, not the half-crazy ghost of a caged Lucifer – but Sam, still there and still trying, under all of that. He could feel him.

And the communication they had always had was back in a rush. Dean looked at Sam…and understood. Knew what he was thinking, knew the plan... And he knew that it came down to him.

Sam's weapon was to give in, Dean's was to…not. Everything they had both gone through had sharpened them into the opposite sides of a single blade, a blade that could cut through anything, could stop anyone – from Lucifer to a deranged archangel. They were balance to one another and the balance between them could hold back even the fury of Heaven and Hell.

They were strong enough, together, to tell the whole of creation to go get fucked.

Dean winked at Sam, and spoke: "I'll say no," he shouted, ignoring the way his captor slammed him into the wall again. "I'll say no."

Sam sagged in relief. He smiled, and it was more Sam than Lucifer for the moment, and that…was all Dean needed. He knew the angels were toast.

"We can make you capitulate," Raphael almost hummed, stepping toward him, walking away from Sam. He stroked the blade with strong fingers. Electricity arced between flesh and metal. His meaning was as clear as the hunger for violence Dean could see glowing behind his borrowed eyes. "We can make you want to."

Dean gurgled a laugh through the fingers wrapped around his throat. "I was in Hell for decades, Raph, 'ol buddy. I was with Alistair. You can do what you want – I know I'll die, but I'll die screaming 'no' and keep screaming it. No matter how many times you kill me." He laughed again, and chanted, singsong: "You can't make me! Go fuck yourself!"

The angel holding him shoved him into the wall so hard the plaster cracked. He gasped, and used the burning breath to call out, "Do it, Sam! Give 'em Hell."

Sam's smile deepened, changed. "You heard him," Sam said to Raphael. "Do it. I can feel him, at the door. He's knocking. Waiting. He wants this too. He'll be the first out of the gate – and then all the worlds end. I know it. I fucking promise it. So do it."

Raphael stood over Sam, as Sam glared up. Neither one flinched.

Then Raphael snarled, an actual snarl that pulled his lips from his teeth. The blade shook in his hand, ready to plunge into Sam's chest, but not falling…not yet daring…

"What we have here, is a Mexican stand off."

The voice was amused and familiar…and impossible.

Dean watched the figure stroll out of the shadows of the nave, and felt the bottom drop out of reality. "Gabriel?"