Author's Note: Thanks for the lovely reviews one and all! I'm sorry I didn't get back to everyone, but I really appreciate hearing from you guys. And after the amazing episode last night, I couldn't help but crank this next chapter out. I'm looking at around two more chapters at this point. Enjoy and let me know what you thought!

Warnings: Spoilers in this chapter through 6.14. This story takes place between 6.14 and 6.15.

Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. I'm just happy to play in the sandbox and promise to put the toys back when I'm done.

Chapter 7

Damages

One hour and fifty-nine minutes.

Bobby stared hard at his watch, waiting. If Dean didn't get his and his brother's asses back to the Impala in the next sixty seconds, he was coming after them. With fifteen seconds to go, a twig snapped in the darkness and Bobby jerked his eyes up and traced the tree line with his flashlight. He started violently when a deer burst out of the trees to his right and bounded toward the road. Bobby cursed under his breath as he grabbed at the top of the Impala to steady himself.

With a huff, he looked back down at his watch. Two hours and seventeen seconds. And no boys.

Bobby ran his face through his hands, knocking the bill of his cap back. "Dammit, Dean."

Bobby would have rather gone in after the boys on his own, but if both Sam and Dean were out of commission, that would leave him alone against at least four hunters. Pray to Cas. Right. Because that wouldn't make him feel like a first rate idjit, especially with the angel not taking calls lately. If Cas wasn't even answering Dean's prayers, what were the chances the angel'd answer his?

Bobby briefly toyed with the idea of calling Rufus to see if he was nearby instead, knowing he'd feel more comfortable going in with his old partner—who he knew was fond of the boys even if he'd never admit it, the stubborn bastard—than an angel he didn't entirely trust no matter how Sam and Dean felt about him. But Cas was still an angel—one who actually cared about those two knuckleheads.

He'd just have to hope that was enough to get his feathery ass down from Heaven.

Bobby cleared his throat, adjusted his hat, and entwined his fingers atop the hood of the car. "Castiel," he began, feeling like a complete goon, "hope you can hear me. We've got a, uh, situation down here." He cleared his throat. "Sam and Dean are in trouble. Well, worse trouble than usual. Could really use your help bailin' them out."

Sucking in a breath, Bobby turned from the Impala and scanned the dark copse. He was alone. "Figures," he muttered. He didn't know what he was expecting, anyway.

The sudden flutter of wings startled the hunter and he turned to see Cas standing on the passenger side of the car. "Bobby," he said by way of greeting, those unnerving blue eyes studying him curiously through the dark.

I'm never going to get used to that, Bobby decided before speaking. "Cas," he said with a nod. "Thanks for coming."

"Sam and Dean are in trouble?" He sounded concerned, which sparked a flame of irritation in Bobby's chest.

"Dean's been calling you for the last week," the hunter said gruffly, crossing his arms.

Cas shifted slightly and Bobby raised an eyebrow. Since when did angels fidget? "I have been… occupied."

"Right, big war in Heaven we don't know anything about."

Cas frowned and Bobby swallowed, hoping he hadn't pushed the angel too far. But the moment passed and Cas tilted his head slightly. "What has happened?"

"Some hunters took Sam eight days ago. We finally got a bead on 'em and Dean took off. That was two hours ago. He's been gone too long."

"Why was Sam taken?" Cas asked.

"Far as the hunting community's concerned, Sam and Dean died a couple years ago when some hunters shot them."

Cas nodded. "When they went to Heaven and met with Joshua. I remember."

Bobby nodded tightly. "Yeah well, hunters don't take well to people coming back to life." He shrugged his shoulders. "Or to starting the apocalypse."

An unreadable expression crossed Cas' face but vanished just as quickly as it appeared so Bobby kept talking, filing the look away. "So pretty much, Sam and Dean Winchester aren't popular with most other hunters."

Those boys had given up more than any horde of people should be expected to and all they got for it was a world ignorant of its near demise and a community that shunned them without knowing the facts.

"I see," the angel said. "And you require help rescuing them."

"If you'd be so kind," Bobby drawled.

Cas merely nodded, either not noticing—not likely considering his time spent with Dean—the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. The angel came around from the other side of the car to stand across from Bobby. "Where are they?"

"About a mile on the other side of trees," Bobby replied. "Should be an abandoned farm 'round there." He took a step back and bumped into the Impala as Cas raised a hand toward him. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"At least let me get some weapons before we take the angel expressway." Cas dropped his hand, but didn't move back to give Bobby any personal space. With a muted huff, Bobby slid across the driver's side of the car and made his way to the trunk. Popping it open, he grabbed the hefty knife and shotgun he'd packed before he and Dean had left his house.

He turned to give Cas the go ahead only to see a hand coming to his forehead. He blinked and looked around, suddenly standing on the edge of an abandoned field, a farm house and a barn in front of him and Cas to his side. Both structures loomed imposingly in the hushed darkness.

"Give a guy a warning first," he mumbled. Angel transport would never be his favorite mode of transportation.

Cas nodded toward the barn. "There are humans in there."

"Sam and Dean?"

The angel dipped his head. "They remain hidden from me."

Oh, right. Those sigils Cas had branded on the boys' ribs. Useful for hiding from archangels wanting to ride their asses and that was about it. Bobby frowned and squinted toward the barn and realized there was faint light leaking out of the cracks in the walls.

"Let's check it out then," he said. He crept forward, mindful not to make any extra noise that would attract unwanted attention. Cas followed behind, a hovering shadow that made Bobby a bit uneasy.

When he reached the barn, Bobby peered through a crack and hissed. Dean sat gagged and tied to a chair, staring helplessly at slumped, bloody, and beaten figure suspended from the rafters. God, was that Sam? Every worry and hesitance he'd felt toward the younger hunter since he'd gotten his soul back fled from his mind, completely overwhelmed by pure worry and fear. Was Sam even still alive? Bobby had a hard time believing anyone could take the abuse he looked like he'd suffered and still be breathing.

Ah hell, boy…

That's when he saw the other hunters. Walt, Roy, Tim, and Reggie were moving apart, like they'd just ended some sick group pep talk. Walt and Tim moved toward Dean while Roy and Reggie stepped toward Sam. Protective fury reared up inside Bobby as he watched the hunters in motion. He wanted nothing more than to burst onto the scene and take them all down, but he knew he had to be careful, angel at his back or not.

"We were just trying to figure out what could work on you Winchesters," Walt said to Dean. "Shotguns apparently don't work in the long-term. But knives and crowbars sure seem to cause a lot of pain."

"You boys seem to bleed, anyway. You seem to feel pain," Tim added. "Like any beast."

"Son of a bitch," Bobby cursed, drowning out some of the hunters' words.

Tim leaned over and pulled the tape from Dean's face. Dean yelped. "Dammit," he muttered, flexing his jaw. "Watch the face."

"Never give up, do you?"

Walt looked over at Roy and Reggie. "Wake 'im up," he said, indicating Sam. "Time to get some answers."

"I thought we'd done this already," Dean growled. "I've got nothing to say."

"No, we figured as much," Walt agreed.

"But we wondered if the positions were reversed," Tim said.

"If Sam would be as quiet," Walt finished.

Bobby ground his teeth and turned to Cas. "I've seen enough. Four hunters. Dean's tied up but doesn't look hurt. Sam, though…" He trailed off as the hunters continued talking in the barn. He tuned out their words, trying to focus. "Sam's in rough shape. We need to get him out."

Cas studied him. "What do you have in mind?"

"We've got the element of surprise," Bobby said. "I say we use it. Crash this party and get the boys out." The angel nodded and followed when Bobby beckoned him toward the doors. Bobby's lips twitched. "You mind getting the door, Cas?" he asked, trying not to think of how that made him sound like a teenage girl on a first date. Thankfully Cas wasn't the type to notice.

Cas lifted a hand and the barn doors burst open. Bobby tightened his grip on his gun and knife and strode into the building. Hay flew around and metallic clangs echoed through the air as Cas followed on his heels. The first thing he saw was Tim hovering over Dean, holding a knife in his face.

"What, you having a shindig in my backyard and don't even invite me? I'm insulted, ya idjits," Bobby called out. He met Dean's wide eyes and nodded to the younger hunter. That's right, boy. We're here.

The relief was evident on Dean's face and something inside Bobby twisted at that. Dean didn't show emotions like that in front of others very often. Something had shaken him up; something to do with his brother, no doubt.

Walt recovered speech first. "Singer?"

"Who the hell is that?" Tim demanded, gesturing at Cas with his knife.

"Our guardian angel," Dean replied with that shit-eating grin he favored when things suddenly were going his way. Now that was more like it.

"Screw this," Tim growled, rushing toward the newcomers. Walt was right on his heels, passing Dean as though he was a piece of scenery.

"Cas," Bobby barked and the angel inclined his head toward him. He lifted a hand and the two charging hunters were flung backwards past Dean and into the bales of hay.

"Can't…move," Walt ground out as he and Tim visibly struggled to move from their ungainly landing. Dean snorted. No chance of that with angel mojo holding them in place.

Roy and Reggie's eyes had gone wide at the sight of their partners being thrown aside like insects by an unkempt guy in a trench coat. It would have been comical to Dean if it weren't so damn satisfying to see the tables turned.

"Get 'im," Roy hissed as he grabbed a crowbar from the pile near his feet and started toward Bobby and Cas. Reggie moved to follow him, but Cas merely flicked his wrist and they joined their friends, tangled up and unable to move in the hay bales.

"What the hell are you?" Reggie demanded.

"Demon," Tim spat. "Gotta be a demon with that kind of power."

"I am an angel of the Lord," Cas replied, watching the hunters with narrowed eyes. "Not some kind of… abomination," he spat.

Dean blinked at the blatant disgust in his voice. That tone was new.

"Yeah right," Walt scoffed. "Angels aren't real."

"Yeah whatever," Dean interrupted. "Nice timing guys," he said with a nod to his friends. "Now care to cut me loose?" He'd spared a glance for Sam once the hunters had been incapacitated and his brother hadn't roused even in the chaos. That couldn't be good. Sammy…

Bobby hurried over to Dean and cut the rope at his right arm, moving down to his ankles. Dean quickly unknotted the rope holding his other arm and bolted to his feet as soon as Bobby was clear. He met the other hunter's eyes and jerked his head toward his brother.

"Sam," was all he said.

Bobby nodded and they both hurried, Dean stumbling a bit as circulation returned to his limbs, over to the unconscious hunter. Sam's head was still slumped forward onto his chest. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he caught the full array of injuries on his brother. His skin was covered in lashes and bruises of every color. On a glance, Dean had no doubt his brother was sporting numerous broken bones and likely some internal injuries, too.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dean put a hand to his brother's neck, frantically feeling for a pulse. Nothing.

"C'mon Sammy," he pleaded before feeling a faint throb under his fingers. His legs nearly gave out in relief. "He's got a pulse," he said without looking away. "It's weak but there. Help me cut 'im down."

Dean looked for a place on Sam's chest he could put his hands to brace his brother but couldn't find any unmarred skin. He swore—he was going to rip those hunters apart even more than he'd been planning as soon as Sam was safe—before putting his hands on his brother's back and chest. A slight tremble went through Sam's form, as if his body too weary to protest any further.

"Sorry, bro," Dean murmured into Sam's ear as Bobby reached over Sam's head to saw at the ropes with his blade. "Take it easy. We're getting you down. You're good, you're safe now."

When the rope severed, Sam's limp form slumped forward. Dean gripped Sam tightly against his own chest, allowing Bobby to help him ease his brother's dead weight down to the ground. Dean knelt down and took Sam's head in his lap, running a hand through the unkempt mop of hair. He bit his lip, staring at Sam's battered body.

He was suddenly back in Cold Oak, holding Sam's limp body in the mud, helpless to do anything and the world collapsing around him.

And then he felt a small, humid puff against his hand. He started from his reverie and looked down. Sam was just barely breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest barely visible.

Sam's alive, he told himself. Sam's alive.

Dean could feel Bobby's worried eyes on them. "Dean," he said quietly, "we need to get him out of here. He needs a hospital."

Dean swallowed. There was too much damage for him to be able to take care of on his own. "We… we need the car," he said, trying to gather his thoughts.

Bobby shook his head. "I don't think driving is a good idea in his condition. Might jar something."

Dean pressed his lips together, mind trying to piece together what to do next. Sam needed help. More help than he or Bobby could give. Couldn't drive… Needed help. And the obvious solution hit him like a bolt out of the dark.

"Cas," he said hoarsely, barely able to get his voice above a whisper. The angel looked over from the immobilized hunters who, Dean suddenly realized, he must have been keeping silent. Gratitude flowed through him at the thought. "Sam needs help."

Cas nodded and moved to join them. He knelt down and put a hand lightly to Sam's chest. He shut his eyes for a moment then frowned. "There is more damage here than I can heal at once."

More damage than I can heal echoed through Dean's mind. No. No. No.

"What?" Dean's eyes narrowed. "You brought Bobby back from the dead when Lucifer snapped his neck. How can you not heal Sam?"

Cas looked up at him, expression softening slightly. "That's not what I said, Dean." The angel rolled his shoulders in a startlingly human motion. "I said I cannot heal him all at once. I can mend the worst internal injuries, but the rest will be up to him."

Dean deflated at that. "Oh." He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah, alright then. Do it."

The angel watched Dean for another beat before nodding and turning back to Sam. The air suddenly changed around them, feeling charged like the air before a thunderstorm. Sam stiffened and Dean went back to stroking his hair like he had so often when Sam was sick in bed as a kid. Sam relaxed slightly at the contact. Dean watched Sam's face carefully as Cas' power did its work. His color slowly improved and he could feel Sam's pulse gaining strength.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Cas sat back on his heels and looked up at Dean. There was sweat on his brow and he looked tired. "That's as much as I can do for him, now," he said. "He should be able to travel now."

Dean nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Cas."

"What about them?" Bobby said, nodding toward the other hunters.

Dean blinked and looked over at the tangled mess of men and the fury at what they had done to his brother washed over him like a tidal wave. He carefully pushed himself out from under Sam's head and rose. "I made a promise," he said. "I intend to keep it."

"Dean," Cas said warningly.

"No, Cas. They took Sam. They hurt him." He looked back at the angel. "They nearly killed Sam." Because that was all the explanation necessary. They were going to pay for hurting his brother. You don't mess with one Winchester and not expect to answer to the other, plain and simple.

He turned back to the captive hunters—his prey—and advanced. He grabbed a knife one of them had dropped in their failed rush on Cas and Bobby.

Behind him, Cas must have looked to Bobby for support because he heard the older hunter say, "Don't look at me. I'd help him if he'd let me."

"I've got this, Bobby," Dean said without pause.

"I figured, son."

Dean nodded and the other hunters were suddenly looking nervous, though they couldn't move. Cas must have released his hold on their voices, though, since Walt spoke up.

"What's this, Dean? Looking for some payback?"

"You hurt my brother," Dean said. "I told you in that motel room I'd be pissed when I came back. This is a long time coming."

"You wouldn't," Tim jeered. "We're human."

"I'm not so sure. But according to you we're supernatural freaks anyway," Dean replied coldly. The calm settling over him was familiar, these skills honed for ten years in the Pit. This was something he was damn good at. "What would a little detail like that matter to me?"

Tim swallowed but couldn't seem to form a reply.

Dean's lips twitched into a frigid smile. "Don't say I didn't warn you, boys."

Cas' disapproving tone rang through his mind and he turned his head to the side. "Cas, you don't have to keep a hold of them. I've got this." No need to get any more human blood on the hands of one of the Heavenly Host, after all.

"Dean, stop."

The hushed words froze Dean in his tracks as if they had been yelled. He whirled around to see Sam weakly pushing himself onto an elbow to look at him. His entire body was shaking with the effort. Bobby hurried to his side and gripped him in support. Sam ignored him, his eyes trained solely on his brother.

"Sammy, I—"

Sam shook his head lightly and swallowed. "No, s'not worth it." The price on your soul, the return to your years in the Pit is not worth it.

Dean swallowed but held his ground. "The hell it's not worth it," he retorted. It's you, bitch. It's always worth it. "They—"

"I know what they did, Dean," Sam cut him off with a mirthless laugh, before his tone softened. "It's still not worth it." Even in as much pain as he was in, Sam was whipping out the puppy dog eyes he knew Dean couldn't resist.

"And if you were in my shoes, Sammy?" Dean asked softly, hating himself for turning Sam's favorite question on him and knowing where his brother's mind would inevitably go.

As much as Sam had worried and scared him during those months after he'd come back from Hell, part of him had understood why Sam had gone down the path he had and hadn't been able to hate him for it, no matter how much easier that would have made things.

And right now… well, he remembered how much he'd really gotten it.

A shadow crossed Sam's face and Dean knew he'd hit his mark. Sam swallowed. "Dean, please. Don't—"

Sam cut off as he made a choking noise and his eyes rolled up back into his head. His entire body racked with tremors and all thoughts of revenge flew from Dean's head. He dropped the knife to the ground and rushed to Sam's side, grabbing onto his brother as he stilled, just like back in Rhode Island.

"Sam," he called to his unmoving brother. "Sam!"

"Dean," someone said but Dean ignored the word.

No, no, no. Not now, dammit. Not now! "Sammy!"

tbc…