It went so smoothly, it made him nervous. June stole something from the summoning box before Forsyth took her out for the day's last walkies. The cat bones, he figured. Probably ate them.
She yanked the leash out of the guy's hand and took off down the street. Just another lost dog. At least, until she dove in the open back window and Sam tossed her some clothes.
They got to the crossroads in plenty of time to get set up. Perfect spot, way out in the country, fields all around it. No one close enough to do anything fast about a gunshot or two in the night. He could make out Sam's crouched form only because he knew exactly where to look. June he could feel, but he couldn't spot her at all, despite the abundance of white skin that black dress bared.
Ol' Dougie showed an hour before midnight. He almost felt sorry for the creep, watching him try to dig that hole in a road packed as hard as concrete. Even in the moonlight and through a night-scope, it was easy to see that the man was in some serious pain. Dude should have brought a mattock.
Probably took blisters and tears along with the sweat that made Forsyth's face gleam in the moonlight, but the man eventually gouged a hole in the road deep enough to cover the small summoning box. He leaned on the shovel, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face and hands.
"Hello?" he called out, turning around. "Anyone there?"
"You rang?" June asked brightly from behind him.
Douglas whirled, the shovel falling onto the gravel with a metallic clatter. Dean was impressed by her abrupt appearance. He wouldn't have guessed those weeds provided that much cover.
"Are you a-?"
"Demon?" she finished for him, with a seductive smile. The scope gathered enough light to make the luminescent glow of the dye flare bright when she flashed him. From the gasp Dougie gave, the effect must have been pretty damn impressive from where he was standing, too.
"Don't believe everything you hear about us," June cooed. "All bad press and nasty rumors. So... what can I do for you tonight, Douglas?"
"I want to be healed," he said. "And I want to be rich."
Dean settled into a rock-solid shooting stance, the cross-hairs on Forsyth's back.
"Weelll," June demurred, running her hands along his shoulders, "The deal is normally one request per customer."
"All right." Douglas stroked her arms. "How about- you heal me, and I make myself rich?"
"Mmmm... I've always had a thing for men with oversized... ambitions. But you do know you'll have a ten year expiration date? I can't change that. It hardly gives you time to amass a fortune, much less time to spend it."
Douglas chuckled. "I'll be rich this time next month. I have a plan- one I think you can appreciate, actually."
"Ooh, some big insider secret?" she purred, closing the slight distance between them.
"I certainly hope it stays a secret," he chuckled. "Murder is frowned upon as a wealth acquisition strategy."
"That's my boy. We're going to have so much fun." June pulled Forsyth's head down for the 'fateful' kiss.
She took a step back, to one side.
So long, Stretch-
A dog barked in the woods close behind him. He flinched, lost aim. Forsyth's head swung towards the sound. He got the cross-hairs on the bastard's chest and squeezed the trigger. The rifle cracked the same instant Forsyth pulled June back against him for another kiss.
Forsyth staggered, June crumpled. But it was Sam who screamed. Dean half-skidded, half-fell down the hillside. Sam had taken Forsyth to the ground and they rolled, struggling. Something metal- Sam's pistol- rattled across the stones.
Dean made it to the road. Sam broke free, grabbed the shovel as he came to his feet. He straddled Forsyth, raised the shovel. He slammed the blade down on the monster beneath him like a guillotine.
Forsyth's body jerked and painted the road with spurts of moon-black blood. Sam dropped the shovel and ran to June as Dean rolled her over. Frothy blood glittered in the moonlight, welling up out of the right side of her chest. She gasped for every wet, drowning breath, eyes wide with pain and panic. Those eyes turned glowing red as the inner lids slid across. She went limp. Sam snatched her up and they ran for the car.
-oOo-
Dean looked down at his hands, hanging between his knees. He hadn't realized till then that they were covered in dried blood. He couldn't muster the will to get up and wash them.
"I don't blame you," Sam spoke softly from across the room. They'd kept the room's width between them since they were shoved off into it a couple of centuries ago.
Dean swallowed. "Don't do that."
"Do what? Tell you that it was an accident? A predictable operational risk? It was, Dean. She'd tell you so herself. Any of us could have been behind that scope and the same thing would have happened."
"Don't absolve me. You ain't the one bleedin' in that bed."
"Neither are you, so pull the damn nails out of your wrists and get off that friggin' martyr's cross."
Dean rubbed a palm against his jeans, the blood cracking and flaking away.
Sam moved to lean a shoulder against the deep window well, staring out at whatever was past the glass. "She's not in pain now," he said. "It's almost... like it was at first. I can feel her but she's... dim."
"Drugged to the gills."
"I hope that's all it is." Sam slapped the window so hard Dean jumped. "Where's your fuckin' angel now?"
"I don't know," Dean groaned. Silence bristled between them again.
"She said," Sam whispered, almost too low to hear, a long time later. "That it wouldn't hurt much if she died."
"Bull. It's hurting you now."
"Yeah." Sam rested his forehead against the heel of his hand, still staring out the glass. "I'm thinking she didn't have a clue."
The door opened. "For June Reed?"
"Yes!" they both blurted. Sam was across the room before Dean made it off his chair.
"I'm Dr. Mike Weston, I've been Ms. Reed's attending ER physician. Are you family members?"
"She's my sister," came out in ragged stereo.
The doctor nodded. "As you know, Ms. Reed suffered a very serious gun shot wound to the right chest. We had some precarious moments in Trauma and in surgery, but she made it through. She's in the ICU now, in critical condition."
Dean glanced over at Sam and the look on his face had him grabbing Sam's arm. Kept Sam on his feet, but added another ring of misery. They'd both been worse. Miles of worse. But this was bad enough.
"Is she going to make it?" Sam rasped.
"We're doing everything we can for her, but the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours are uncertain at this point."
"I need to see her."
The doctor nodded. "Come with me. I'll take you to the ICU waiting area." He included Dean then in his glance. "You can go in one at a time, for five minutes every hour."
That was a rule that wasn't going to stand long, judging from the muscle jerking in Sam's jaw.
-oOo-
He let Sam have the first two visitation slots. June was out of it, and he figured if she was aware on any level, she'd be helped more by Sam's presence than his. Dean glanced down at his hands again and this time headed for the men's room.
He was scraping dried blood and caked dirt from under his nails at the sink when a voice spoke almost in his ear, behind him.
"Dean, we must talk."
His head jerked up so fast he almost clocked Cas in the nose. "Geez!" he wheezed to Cas' hastily retreating reflection while he swallowed his heart back down. "Clear your throat or something first!"
He turned then and did some personal space violation of his own. "Where have you been? Why aren't you out there healing her?"
"You and your brother are not my sole responsibility, nor always my highest priority," Cas retorted, blue eyes narrowing a little. He looked away then, towards the ICU, as if he could see through the walls.
Dean bristled and Cas looked back into his eyes again, that brief fire of rebuke gone from his gaze. "That does not mean that I have no concern for you both, or for her."
"Then why don't you get out there and heal her now?" Dean bit each word off short.
"There is no need. She is receiving proper care. She will recover in the natural way of her kind."
The wash of relief felt like dropping an over-loaded pack carried way too long. "Then why are we standing here chatting in the men's room if you're not here for her?"
Cas tilted his head.
Dean waited, then the light dawned. "You're here for me? Aw come on, Cas! I thought that whole angel band allegiance deal went into the crapper when we derailed the Apocalypse!"
"I expect you to honor your sworn vow to God, and to his holy angels," Cas answered, with a trace of a smile around the corners of his lips. "But I'm not here to enact that vow."
"Ok, so what- Twenty Questions time now? Is it animal, mineral or vegetable?"
"One of the three. In some ways." He sobered again. "Dean, do not run from what is coming."
"You do realize that makes me want to take off like my head's on fire?"
"That would be most unwise. Stop, drop, and roll. Then stand your ground and open your eyes. But don't put off too many smoke signals while your hair smolders."
"Dude- did you just make a joke?"
Cas gave him one of his 'blink and you miss it' smiles. "I believe I did."
He laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. "But what I've told you isn't one."
That reassuring pressure seemed to linger a heartbeat longer than Cas did. Dean glanced around the washroom, then tilted his head towards the ceiling. "God, if you're listening in right now, you might want to send those guys to Effective Communication 101. I'm pretty sure your messages aren't getting through as originally intended."
He went out and down the hall. Sam was at the nurses' station, and that wasn't his friendly getting-to-know-you stance. He hurried over to try to talk Sam down before somebody called Security.
"Are you blind and stupid? Can't you see that her vitals take a dive every time I leave her?" Sam snarled at the nurse who was standing her ground with admirable professionalism against somebody who looked about half a sentence away from mayhem. "Why can't I stay with her? I'm mobile, I'm perfectly capable of stepping away when she needs care!"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to allow that. You have to understand, the rules are in the best interest of all our patients."
"Then you pick up that phone and call someone who is authorized!"
"Like Cas," Dean interjected.
"Excuse me?" the nurse said. Dean lifted a finger to his lips and shook his head as Sam wiped his hands over his face and seemed to deflate.
"Cas?" Sam echoed.
"Yeah. Just now. Walk and talk."
"Not yet. I can't-" Sam turned away, towards the glass wall of ICU opposite the nurses' station. "Dean!"
Cas nodded to them from inside the ward. The shadow of massive wings arched protectively over June's bed.
FINIS