We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter Four by asesina
Standard disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW.
A/n: Thanks for the feedback. I hope that you enjoy this chapter! Please leave comments and criticism.
This story is un-betaed (is that even a verb?!), so sorry if there are any typos!
"Don't be surprised when we hate this tomorrow
God knows we tried to find an easier way
Yeah you and I will be a tough act to follow
But I know in time we'll find this was no surprise"
-Daughtry, "No Surprise"
Dean stared in shock as Castiel manifested himself before his eyes.
"Cas?" he said in a quiet, unsure voice.
"Dean, I wasn't sent here to speak to just you this time," Cas said quickly. He shifted his eyes to Sam and regarded him with guarded anger and a hint of disdain.
"Sam, you can't leave Lawrence just yet," Castiel commanded. Sam was still speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel motioned for him to be quiet.
"You should tell Dean how you were able to dispel that spirit before, Sam," Castiel said with a glare.
Sam swallowed hard and looked over at Dean.
"I, uh," he faltered, rubbing the back of his head worriedly as he shot a surreptitious glance at his brother.
"Sam, what's going on?" Dean demanded. Castiel folded his arms across his chest and took a step closer to Sam.
"Dean, I- I learned something new from the angel. My angel," he clarified.
"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?" Dean asked. He stepped towards his brother and winced as pain shot through his temple.
"Dean," Sam said quietly. He remembered Dean's injury and turned to Castiel.
"Castiel, can we talk about this later?" Sam asked. He pointed at his own head to implicitly warn Castiel about Dean's injury, but the angel wouldn't hear any of it.
"I know that he's injured, Sam, but what you did has to be out in the open," Castiel admonished.
Sam hung his head and exhaled sharply.
"Okay, fine. Dean, I used you to get rid of the spirit," Sam admitted.
"Used me? What the hell do you mean? I was out cold," Dean said incredulously.
"I used your blood," Sam added, shifting his eyes away from Dean so that he didn't have to look directly at his brother.
"How did my blood help you dispel the spirit, Sam? What's going on? Cas?" Dean asked angrily. He glanced from Castiel to Sam and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"It's a long story, Dean. When you were Michael's host, you inherited some of the archangel's divine nature. Now that heaven is no longer in a state of anarchy, Michael has returned to his true home. However, he left some of himself in your blood," Castiel explained.
"Well, that just sounds wrong," Dean mused, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust.
"There's nothing wrong with it, Dean. It's actually better for you," Castiel continued.
"Why's that? Sam, did you know about this?" Dean asked.
"No, Dean. I just knew that your blood was the key to helping the spirits of the lost souls who were killed during the Apocalypse," Sam said quietly.
"And why didn't you tell me this, Sam? Did you want me to go all Twilight and give you some of my blood if the ghost bitch didn't knock me out?" Dean asked, hearing his own voice rise with anger as he turned to face his brother.
"No, Dean. I didn't even expect to see a ghost in our old home," Sam said hurriedly. He wanted this to end- all of it. Sam was sick of being put on the spot and forced to justify his every action and belief.
It reminded him of when he was always around Ruby. That was a time he would willingly forget if he could.
"You've got to believe me, Dean. My angel told me that you could help me send spirits home to heaven if used your blood to free them from this earth," Sam said.
Dean wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Castiel had always been on his side, but Sam and the angel rarely saw eye to eye.
Castiel had even more reasons to distrust Sam now after the younger Winchester had given in to Lucifer.
"Look, Cas. I'm sure that bleeding me like a stuck pig would help all these wandering spirits, but there's gotta be another way. We have to be able to send these spirits back to heaven without using Sam's angel mojo tricks," Dean reasoned. He was dismayed when Castiel shook his head firmly.
"Dean, this lesson isn't for you. Sam is the one who holds the key to helping these spirits right now. He is withholding information from you, and you cannot leave Lawrence until you learn how to reap these lost souls," Castiel said with a warning glare.
Dean frowned and looked at Sam. Sam looked and Dean and shrugged in frustration. Sam was about to say something back to Castiel when he saw Dean beginning to sway on his feet.
"Dean!" Sam called. He ran over just in time to prevent his brother from doing a flying headbutt to the asphalt.
"Castiel, you've got to heal Dean and fix the car. It's the least you can do after all this ridiculous Deus ex Machina crap," Sam said coolly.
Castiel nodded with a grimace as he approached the brothers. He placed a hand to Dean's head and willed the wound to disappear.
He turned to the car with a frown and put both hands on the hood of the car.
"This is the first time I've healed something that isn't sentient," he muttered as he whispered a few words and straightened out the twisted bumper and mangled headlights.
"My baby's good as new," Dean said softly. He brushed a hand over his ear and was surprised to feel a distinct lack of blood.
"Uh, thanks, Cas," Dean said suddenly. Castiel nodded curtly and abruptly turned to Sam.
"You—watch out," he said quietly.
"For what?" Sam asked, trying to conceal the fear that crept into his voice.
"You'll have plenty of people after you. Ghosts, wandering spirits, vengeful victims," he said with a steely glare.
"What should I do, Castiel? My angel told me that I should leave Lawrence and never look back," he said.
"You cannot leave yet. Dean needs to learn how to rescue wandering spirits from you. I suppose that will be your parting gift to your brother. After that, Dean will be free to leave Lawrence. You are bound to your fate, Sam," Castiel said firmly.
"What do you mean by parting gift, Cas?" Dean asked. His voice had an edge of panic to it, and Castiel heard his fear.
"You and Sam have separate paths now. You must rescue the souls that Sam destroyed. He must do penance for his sins, but you are free to come and go as you please. We know that you'll do the right thing, Dean, but Sam will not be trustworthy until he learns his lesson," Castiel replied.
"Why do I have to prove myself to you?" Sam asked suddenly.
"It's not just me, Sam. It's the entire heavenly host," Castiel countered with a cold stare.
"Why can't I stay with Dean and help him? I might be able to help the lost spirits, Castiel," Sam said, almost pleading with the angel as he stared into Castiel's sky blue eyes.
"You are a lost spirit yourself, Sam. It's Dean's job to guide them home. Your help would only interfere," Castiel answered.
He turned to Dean one last time and said, "You're free, Dean. You hold the keys of freedom and peace. I know you will do the right thing."
With that, he disappeared into the night.
Dean's eyes widened when his mind registered that the inky darkness in front of him had taken the place of the luminous heavenly messenger.
"Sam, what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked.
Sam laughed bitterly.
"I don't know, Dean. I guess we have to split up again because I'm the fated one once again," Sam said with a frown.
"Sam, we're not gonna split up just because an angel said we have to. We can make our own decisions, remember?" Dean said, hoping to instill Sam with some kind of optimism.
"Yeah, look how well free will worked out for us. Paradise Lost, anyone?" Sam answered. He shifted his weight and stared at the interstate highway in front of them. The glass wall was still in place.
They were trapped in Lawrence.
"Well, I guess I should show you the way I was able to banish that spirit before," Sam said with a sigh.
"Sam, it can wait. We've had a long freakin' week," Dean said with a smile.
"You hungry?" Dean inquired. Sam nodded, and Dean stretched his arms as he walked towards the Impala.
"What do you think about raiding one of these abandoned houses for some post-apocalyptic food?" Dean asked with a grin.
"Uh, sure," Sam said. He sighed wearily and climbed into the passenger side. It was unconscious by now. He was only programmed to head for the diver's seat if Dean was sick or knocked out cold.
In this case, he was neither of the two, so Sam resigned to the fact that he would perpetually be sitting shotgun from now on.
Dean go in the driver's seat and felt for the key. He put it in the ignition and listened to the engine turn over with pride.
"My baby's been touched by an angel," he said with a grin.
"Were you touched by your angel, Sam?" Dean asked slyly as he backed up the Impala and pulled away from I-70.
"No, Dean! I wouldn't consider sleeping with an angel," he said angrily.
"But you didn't have any second thoughts about a demon, huh?" Dean laughed.
"Would you stop bringing that up, Dean? I'm trying to redeem myself here, and talking about that doesn't help me any," Sam said, exasperated.
"Cool down, Sammy. I'm just having some fun," Dean said as he turned the dial on the radio.
He was dismayed when he heard Snow Patrol blaring from the speakers.
"Damn, Sammy, what kind of coffee lounge music did you have on before?" Dean asked in annoyance.
He changed the dial to his favorite station and was pleased to hear Ozzy's "Crazy Train" playing.
"Now that's more like it," Dean laughed as he sped back to the cul-de-sac where it all started.
When they arrived at their childhood home, it was almost 9:00 pm. Dean parked the Impala and cautiously made his way up the front sidewalk.
He kicked open the front door and made his way back to the kitchen.
The house was as silent and sterile as ever. Dean almost tripped over a kitchen chair that was slightly pulled away from the table.
He headed over to the fridge and was surprised to find several bottles of Guinness on the shelves. He also found an untouched ice cream cake and a few scraps of ham in a deli bag from Shop Rite.
The stamp on the meat was surprisingly recent- November 6, 2009. Someone had been camping out here during Sam's week-long apocalyptic reign.
"Sam, want something?" Dean called.
He turned around when Sam didn't answer after several moments.
"Sam?" Dean called worriedly.
He pulled out his Zippo lighter and illuminated the darkness with its weak, flickering light.
Dean was horrified to see Sam standing directly in front of a child-like specter that was reaching for his face.
"Sam, move!" Dean shouted.
Sam was entranced by the spirit. He didn't acknowledge Dean at all.
Dean frantically looked for any kind of weapon in the kitchen. He spotted a small steak knife in the sink and hurriedly grabbed the weapon as he raced towards the ghost.
"I hope this works," Dean muttered to himself as he grabbed Sam's shoulder and pulled him away from the ghost.
"Sam, how the hell did you get rid of that ghost last time?" Dean shouted. Sam's head slumped forward and the diminutive spirit reached out a spindly smoke-finger to touch his forehead.
"Stay away from him, you piece of shit!" Dean screamed. He held the kitchen knife over his hand with a shaky grip, and he plunged the weapon into his forearm with force.
Dean winced as he dipped his finger in his own blood and stared at the ghost in fear.
"Sam, wake up! Help me get rid of this thing!" Dean shouted.
"I'll take your head off just like you did to mine," the ghost-boy hissed as he pulled back his hand and prepared to attack Sam.
"Sam!" Dean yelled as he shook his brother's shoulder.
Sam didn't answer.
TBC…