A/N: Thanks to my guest reviewer!

So I've finally caught up on the finale... woooo, what a doozy o.O But it seems to be inspiring all kinds of theories and follow-ups! In fact, Aini NuFire and I have just started working on a multi-chapter post-S12 collaboration, and I'm pretty excited about it! Without giving too many spoilers away, it follows a prompt she was given about what if the Cas who walked back OUT of the portal... wasn't necessarily the same Cas who walked IN?

But that's a story for another day ^_^ Meanwhile, let's catch up with Sam and Cas and see if they can manage to escape from Cole o.O

"So Dean killed Cole's father. That certainly explains why he's doing this," Cas murmured, sounding worn out as Sam finished telling him what Cole had revealed. "What happened to him must have been horrible. Though it doesn't excuse him from turning into a monster himself."

"No," Sam agreed as he slumped back, his efforts to break the zip-tie binding his wrists nothing but a futile gesture. "It doesn't." He winced as a spasm of agony wracked his body when he inhaled too deeply. Sam shuddered, trying to hide the pain so that Cas wouldn't worry.

From the look the angel was angling at him, it wasn't working.

"We need to escape before he returns," Cas pointed out. "I think-" He paused to cough, the wet, hacking sounds standing as a sharp reminder that they were running out of time in more ways than one.

"Cas?"

"I'm fine," he managed to say. "I think I can… 'slip' this."

"You do?" Sam tried not to get his hopes up, but then again Cole had seemed to think that Cas wouldn't require as much security as Sam. The angel was only tied by the wrists. Obviously, Cole didn't know him very well.

"Yes. I've been working at it for a while, and…" The angel grunted as his hands came free at last. "There."

Sam struggled to straighten himself as much as possible, biting his lip to stop from crying out as the movement jostled his shattered knee. "Great, Cas!" he forced out through clenched teeth. "Good work, buddy."

It hurt to watch Cas crawl forward a few feet before he could muster the strength to clamber upright, but the angel made a beeline for Sam as soon as he was able. When he got close enough for Sam to see clearer in the light of the lantern, the hunter frowned; Cas's arms were shaking and his wrists were bruised from the struggle, but the defensive marks were disappearing only very sluggishly. There'd been nothing supernatural or celestial about his restraints, though. Shouldn't he have recovered immediately?

"Hold on," Cas murmured, reaching a trembling hand for Sam's forehead.

A flicker of pain passed across the angel's face, to Sam's dismay, and he was just about to tell Cas not to worry about healing him, when the crippling agony in his legs and chest dulled ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but at least now he could see straight. Cas swayed, and Sam jerked back.

"Cas, don't," he warned. "You gotta save your strength."

"I need… to heal you…" But the angel stumbled back a step in what seemed to be a rush of vertigo.

Sam shook his head. "I'll be okay," he insisted, only a partial truth. "But I can't carry us both outta here. You did great, Cas, thank you. Can you get me loose?"

Cas nodded, shifting around behind Sam. The hunter nearly jumped when he felt how cold his friend's hands were, though, and after a moment of numb fumbling at the too tight zip-ties, Cas growled in muted frustration.

"I- I can't get them loose," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Sam, I need something to cut them with." There was a rustle of fabric as though the angel was in search for something in his coat, before he spoke up again. "Hold on. I have another angel blade in the trunk of the car."

"Okay." Sam watched his friend limp towards the door and his heart sank. Even if Cas got him loose… well, Sam planned to continue ignoring one very obvious fact until it became clear that it could be ignored no longer.

Instead, the hunter gamely held on, trying to take deep breaths in the hopes of easing the remaining pain that refused to be eased. He just needed to hold on long enough to get out of there, to get himself and Cas to safety, to find Dean.

When Cas returned, though, one look at his expression only confirmed Sam's fears.

"What is it?" he asked reluctantly, as Cas approached with the spare blade in hand.

The angel took a deep breath. "Cole… he let the air out of the tires. All of them. Sam, we're not getting out that way. We're going to have to walk."

Sam closed his eyes as Cas quickly sliced through the plastic ties, releasing him from the chair and stepping back wearily. Denial was no longer an option. The hunter swore.

"Okay. Alright," he whispered, before opening his eyes and swallowing. "Cas, go."

"What?"

"You can make it," Sam urged. "I'll hold Cole off as long as possible when he gets back. Buy you a few extra minutes at least. Follow the road until you hit he highway, just stay out of sight, okay? Stick to the woods, and-"

"I'm not leaving you here," Cas interrupted with a shadowed look. "We'll both-"

"Cas." Swallowing again, Sam shook his head. "Look at me," he murmured, gesturing to his ruined legs. "Why do you think he put a bullet in each? There's no way I can walk that far, Cas. And you're barely holding yourself up. You can't get us both out… but you can go for help. Cas, one of us has to make it to Dean, and there's no way it's me. Not like this."

The angel stepped back up to Sam, jaw clenched and eyes ferocious in the lantern light. "Abandon you here? To him? Who do you think you're talking to?" Cas snapped. "I said I'm not leaving you, and that's final. I'll heal you a little at a time along the way. And if we can't walk any further, then we'll hide. Together."

"Cas-"

"And if you don't come with me," the angel went on, drawing himself up, "then I'll sit right back down and wait with you for him to come back. But you're not facing him alone."

As exhausted as he was, Sam felt his throat closing up slightly at the show of loyalty—not that he should really expect any less of the angel, of course. It was exactly what Dean would have said. "Cas… I'm not gonna make it far."

"Neither am I," the angel pointed out. "With or without you. We'll get as far as we can and find somewhere to hide in the woods until we're both a little stronger."

Sam watched him for a moment, then sighed in resignation. He was too worn to argue. Cas nodded and stowed his blade away in his coat sleeve, then reached for the hunter to help him get to his feet. As soon as Sam tried to put any weight on his left leg, a strangled sob ripped out of his throat and he nearly buckled. It was all he could do not to vomit from the nausea brought on by the sudden onslaught of pain.

"Sam!" Cas managed to hold him upright, grabbing the hunter around the torso and using his other hand to pull Sam's arm across the angel's shoulders.

"I can't," the hunter whispered, voice tight with agony. "I can't use the right side at all, not with that knee."

"Alright. Hold on."

Before Sam could stop him, he felt more warm, healing light trickling into him, finding its way down to the bullet wound in his left thigh. Again, it wasn't much, but it dulled the pain a bit more until it was only a vicious throbbing. At least now he had one almost usable leg.

"Thanks, Cas," Sam gritted out, taking a couple of deep breaths and trying to support as much of his own weight as he could. Cas was definitely trembling now, and Sam was afraid the angel had already given too much. "Okay… I think we can make it-"

He cut off, heart stuttering to a halt, as the sound of a rumbling car engine filtered in from outside. Sam's mouth went dry. Cas gripped him tighter and shook his head.

"Sam… we have to fight."

There was no other option, the hunter knew that. "Get me to the door, quick," Sam urged. "I'll distract him, and you move in with the blade."

Cas nodded, lurching forward as they both half-limped, half-staggered to the doorway. The engine outside turned off as the angel helped Sam prop himself up against the wall, close enough to the entrance to leap on their captor as soon as he walked in. Trading a nod, Cas stepped back into the center of the room, angel blade falling back down into his hand.

The slow, firm footsteps crunching on gravel outside drew ever nearer. Sam felt his heartbeat racing, the thudding in his chest not making things any easier on his aching ribcage. His hands clenched into fists; he wasn't going down without a fight.

"What the-"

Cole stormed through the doorway, furious eyes latched onto Cas. As soon as he'd stepped through, Sam threw himself forward, grabbing the soldier. His weight bore them both down to the ground, though the hunter couldn't bite back a tortured yell as his ribs and ruined knee slammed into the ground. Sam's world exploded into a blinding, white-hot haze of agony but he clung to Cole as well as he could.

With a growl, Cole struck out at Sam, a fist slamming down against the hunter's unprotected knee. This time, Sam went limp. His breath was stolen, not even able to cry out and certainly not able to hold Cole back as the soldier slithered out from his grip.

He heard the commotion as Cas attacked, but no matter how hard the hunter tried to force himself to stay alert, the blackness came to wash over him with merciful unconsciousness.

SPN SPN SPN

Cole was furious, impressed, and surprised all in one. This 'Cas' guy hadn't been part of his research on Dean Winchester, but logic said the man could hardly be considered a serious threat, especially to one as well trained as Cole himself.

Logic be damned. Whether it seemed possible or not, the simple fact was that Cas must have gotten free, freed Sam, found another weapon, and managed to land a hit square to Cole's jaw with the pommel.

The solider found himself reeling backwards, shocked at the strength behind the strike. It drove him away from Sam, still prone on the ground, but Cole was sure the Winchester was down for the count.

"Okay," he said, keeping a calm face as he recovered, military instincts helping him to keep a clear head. "I underestimated you. My mistake."

"Yes," Cas growled, shadowed face turning fierce in the electric lantern light. "You did."

And then he charged, once again taking Cole by surprise. The blade flipped around in his hand, sharp edge swinging towards the soldier. Cole side-stepped, eyes widening briefly, but his hands flew out in the familiar maneuver to shove his attacker on by. Cas hit the wall of the barn and stumbled, already breathing heavily.

"You should have stayed put, sport," Cole said, drawing his gun from the small of his back and aiming it at Cas. "I was going to take it easy on you. Now we're gonna have to do things the hard way, aren't we?"

"I will not let you harm-" Cas broke off, coughing weakly and swaying where he stood, before finishing, "-Sam and Dean."

Cole raised his eyebrows, silent disdain and approval shifting through his mind. Loyalty was great, a code of the army, but when it was in the service of vicious killers like the Winchesters, it didn't speak well of the loyal party. He cocked the gun. "That so?"

Smiling a bit, Cole swung his arm so that the pistol was pointed at the prone form of Sam Winchester. His eyes remained locked on Cas, though, daring him to make a move to prove his words. As he'd expected, the man charged forward with blind intent, his strange weapon raised.

Ready for him, Cole timed his move perfectly, waiting until the last minute to drop his gun and reach for Cas instead. As weary as his enemy was, he couldn't change direction in time. Cole grabbed his sword arm with both his own hands, flinging him around and throwing a foot out to sweep Cas's legs out from under him. They both went down, fighting for control over the blade, but Cole had the superior position. He wrenched the sword away, though Cas made one last desperate attempt to grab it back by the blade with his bare hand.

Blue light filled the room, along with a sharp cry of pain. Cole jerked away, flinging himself away from his enemy as his eyes widened in shock.

"What the-"

What the hell was this?! That light was coming from Cas, where the blade had sliced his palm open. Cole jumped to his feet, standing over his downed opponent with the sword pointed directly at him.

"What's going on?" he snarled as Cas—whatever the hell he was—weakly tried to pull himself backwards away from Cole. "What was that?! What are you, some kind of alien?"

"No," Cas whispered, still inching away. "I'm not- I'm not an alien."

Furious and shaken, Cole wrapped his other hand around the blade and made a quick slice, just to verify whether it was the weapon itself or this thing on the floor that was completely… wrong. It stung and drew a line of normal, red blood. Cole's eyes narrowed and he advanced on the alien, who collapsed back down and held his hands up. The wound on his palm continued to glow, before the light faded away. But Cole knew what he'd seen.

"Wait," Cas choked out. "I'm an angel."

"And I'm the tooth fairy."

"I'm not an alien. I'm… an angel of the Lord… I protect… Sam and Dean."

Right, because an angel would be barely able to take a breath after so short a fight, because angels got sick, because the Winchesters were somehow deserving of Heavenly protection. No one had been protecting Cole's dad. No one had been protecting dozens of good men he'd seen die in the service of their country. Cole hadn't believed in that sort of thing in a long, long time. Still, he had to believe what his own eyes told him; Cas was something. And sick or not, Cole would make dead sure he wasn't going anywhere this time.

The soldier's eyes flicked around the barn. An industrial spool of twine sat in a near corner. That would do.

"Lucky for you, I don't give a damn what you are," he snapped. "Get up." Cole reached for Cas, keeping the blade close to his enemy's throat as he gripped the collar of the… 'angel's'… overcoat and hauled him to his knees. "It's over. Make a move, and I'll put you down, then use this funny sword to take one of Sammy's eyes. Got it?"

Cas didn't say anything, but he also didn't try to fight as Cole shifted behind him and sliced off a long length of the twine.

"You know, Cas," the solider remarked as he grabbed one of the guy's wrists and started tying a series of loops. "Angel, alien, human, it doesn't matter. I told you there was no reason to hurt you as long as you didn't give me one. Now you've given me one. So you know what comes next, right?"

Still no response. As long as Cas understood he'd lost, and now Cole was going to have to ensure another escape attempt was out of the question. Forcing Cas's arms up so that his hands were close his neck, elbows pointed upwards, Cole looped the twine around the 'angel's' throat and then bound his remaining wrist.

As soon as he let go and Cas's arms fell slack, the loop around his neck twisted and tightened, making him choke as his panicked eyes widened.

"That's right," Cole said, standing back. "Better keep your arms up. And I wouldn't struggle too much if I were you, or you're gonna tighten that more and suffocate yourself."

"Cole…" Cas choked out, before tilting his elbows up further to relieve the tightness around his throat. "I know you think you have to do this-"

"Well, see, I wouldn't have needed to if you and Sam had given me what I wanted," the soldier pointed out. "And even if you are some kind of… alien… thing, what I said before stands. All I want is Dean. You give me that, you and Sammy can still walk away from this."

Though, he was becoming less and less sure of that. Cole glared at his two captives, mind racing. He hadn't planned on killing anyone but Dean. The soldier had calculated for contingencies, but it'd never occurred to him that he'd be factoring monsters into the equation. Maybe Sam hadn't been totally crazy… maybe there were monsters.

Like these two. Like Dean. He just didn't know anymore.

"I will not give you Dean," the angel guy insisted.

Cole shrugged and tossed the short sword onto the nearby table. With his arms immobilized, Cas wouldn't be able to get up and fight before the soldier reached it again. "If you say so," he dismissed.

Turning back towards the unconscious Sam, Cole reached down and hooked his arms under the Winchester's. Dragging Sam back towards the chair, the soldier had to struggle a bit to get the dead weight back into the seat, but by the time he had his victim situated and securely bound again, Sam was starting to stir and groan.

"I'll tell you one thing though, Cassie boy," Cole tossed over his shoulder as he went to retrieve his gun. "It sure seems to me that you and Sam would go pretty far to protect each other. So no matter how loyal you might feel to Dean… one of you will give him up. I don't care which one. And I don't care what I have to do to make that happen. Keep that in mind."

SPN SPN SPN

Dean twisted the glass back and forth on the bar top, gaze faraway and mind even farther. The backup cell phone rested on the smooth wood beside him, still blessedly quiet. Dean wasn't sure why he'd even brought it in with him; if Sammy did call, would he even answer it? How many times could he hear the same lecture about his reckless ways and how he needed to come home, before he screamed?

And yet, the fact that Sam hadn't called left Dean… uncertain.

"You want another, honey?" the bartender asked, watching him as she dried a fresh set of glasses.

Dean glanced at her and forced a smile. "What the hell?"

She wasn't the type he was apt to flirt with, more matronly than sexy. In a way, she actually reminded him of Ellen, which hurt almost enough to make the hunter leave. Her smile wasn't sensual and flirty, but gentle and sympathetic.

Dean didn't want her sympathy. He didn't deserve her sympathy.

But the whiskey she poured him helped sooth the bubbling anger he felt simmering away deep down, so he tossed it back.

"Whatever it is," the matronly bartender said suddenly, hand on hip as she waited for him to set the glass down so she could fill it again, "you'd be surprised how far 'I'm sorry' goes."

Dean swallowed the liquor and stared at her. "What?"

She chuckled softly, shaking her head and raising an eyebrow. "Honey, I've seen all the looks. You're trying to drink something away, arguing with someone you don't wanna argue with. You look like a guy who's done wrong and knows it. Whatever it is, whoever it is, talking's gonna work a lot better than another fifth. Trust me on that."

Setting his glass down and tapping it to indicate another shot, Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, sometimes there's nothing to say. How many times can you go down the same road, making the same damn mistakes, before even family figures out there's no saving you?"

"Depends," she replied. "You wanna be saved?"

"Now you sound like my brother." Dean shook his head, looking at his whiskey as the bartender set the bottle back down. The truth was, yes… yes, he did desperately want to be saved. He wanted this damn Mark off of his soul. He wanted to not have to fight every second of every day to hold back the anger and violence it made him feel. He wanted to not have to worry that the next time he snapped, it might be at someone he loved.

But more than anything, he wanted Sammy to be safe, and if he had to ensure that by pushing him away, then so be it. There was no reason for his little brother to have to watch him slowly lose control.

No matter how much he wanted to be saved, and to earn Sam's forgiveness, Dean didn't for one second fool himself into believing he deserved it.

"Besides," he added, looking again at the still silent phone, "I doubt he wants to talk to me."

This time, the bartender laughed. Dean looked up at her in confusion, as she tipped him a wry grin.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a terrible liar, honey?" she asked. "Even you don't buy that." Turning, she put the whiskey back on the shelf then looked back at Dean. "I'm gonna do you a favor and cut you off. Go home, honey. Talk to your brother. You're too cute to look so miserable."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but she only gave him a pointed look, the hardened expression of someone who'd dealt with too many ornery drunks and come out on top.

"Go on," she said, jerking her head towards the phone. "You'll thank me later."

The hunter sighed. What was the worst that could happen? He'd call Sam, and his brother would be mad at him and refuse to talk, and then at least Dean would know he was doing the right thing by staying away. It would break his heart, of course… but hell, he was going to break eventually, anyway.

Or maybe… maybe Sammy would tell him again to come home.

Maybe Dean would listen this time. Maybe he wanted Sam to convince him.

Sighing, the hunter picked up his glass, needing this final shot of liquid courage. He tossed it back, wincing at the burn though he barely felt it anymore, then picked up the cell. Eyeing the bartender and her gentle smile, Dean felt something in him loosen.

"Thanks," he muttered, before pushing a few bills her direction and sliding off the bar stool. The hunter wound his way towards the door, already dialing Sam.