A/N: Thanks to guest, Loreley, and idreamofivan for anonymous reviews!

Sam winced as the Impala hit a bump in the road—not even a large pothole, merely a seam in the surface that wasn't totally even. It took next to nothing to jar his battered body, even though he knew Dean was trying to be as careful as he could. If the fact that he was going at least five under the speed limit was any indication.

"Dude, you've still got a couple hours before we're home," Dean pointed out from the driver's seat, half-glancing his way. "Take a nap or something."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I really want to," he mumbled before he could stop himself, the last dose of morphine probably lowering his guard more than it should.

From the look Dean shot him, Sam could tell the remark hadn't gone unnoticed, and the way his brother's jaw tightened said an explanation wasn't necessary. Nightmares were just a normal part of their lives.

"Wanna talk about it?" Dean finally asked, which was a bit of a surprise, given how much the older Winchester tended to avoid the subject of feelings.

Not that Sam himself was eager to revisit his time Cole, nor the horrors brought upon him in the vulnerable state of sleep. He exhaled slowly, mind returning to the dreams… Cole bearing down on him while he was bound and helpless to fight back, the feeling of a gun barrel pressing into his head, the sound of a hammer on fragile bone… and then the other part. Sam's breath caught.

"Sam?"

"I, um…" He cleared his throat, looking out the window instead of at Dean. "I dreamed that… you answered the phone the first time Cole called you."

From his periphery, Sam saw his brother glance over at him, but Dean didn't say anything. Just waited. Sam heaved a sigh and pretended there weren't tears in his eyes.

"And… you, um… you told him if I'd gotten caught it was… it was my own problem, and… you weren't coming, so he could go ahead and do whatever he wanted. Because, the Mark… you didn't care if-" He couldn't go on any further into the story, throat closing up at the memory of the nightmare.

Silence. Sam still didn't look at Dean, couldn't look at Dean, but twitched in surprise when the Impala suddenly slowed down and pulled over. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Dean guided the car onto the shoulder and killed the engine.

"Sammy."

"It was just a nightmare," Sam quickly whispered, as though it wasn't still haunting him. His eyes closed when a firm hand grabbed his arm.

"Hey. Sammy, look at me, come on."

Exhaling, Sam twisted in his seat back towards his brother, opening his eyes and watching Dean with pain and pleading that couldn't be spoken. To his surprise, Dean's face was covered in a mask of sadness.

"I wish I hadn't taken this damn thing," Dean admitted in the quiet car. "And we're gonna get it off as soon as we figure out how, once we get Cas back up on his feet. But Sammy… damn it, I'm so sorry. There is nowhere—nowhere—that anyone could take you that I wouldn't move Heaven and Hell to find you. You're my brother. The Mark doesn't change that. Hell, the only thing that was keeping me on the reservation was your dumb ass, calling me every other hour. No matter how pissed you were, you didn't give up on me, and I… I need you to know, Sammy, I would never give up on you. I would never just ditch you with some lunatic and let him-"

Now Dean was getting emotional, too, his grip on Sam's arm tightening to the point that it would have been painful if Sam hadn't desperately needed the contact and the reassurance.

"You idiot," Dean finished with a breathless snort. "What would I do if he killed you?"

"Something stupid, I'm sure," Sam shot back, a little watery but with more strength.

Dean didn't even argue, just nodded in musing agreement. "Yeah, probably. Look, Cole's dead. He can't hurt you. And I'm here, and I'm still me for the moment, and with your freaky smart brain, I'm sure we'll come up with something. Alright?"

Sam took a breath and nodded back. He didn't know how yet, but he wasn't going to lose his brother. No matter what. Feeling better, he gave Dean a wan half-smile.

"Good talk," Dean grumbled, gruff again as the moment passed. He turned the engine back on and pulled carefully onto the road once more. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam automatically replied, then smiled a little more. His face fell slightly as another thought occurred to him. "Did you talk to Cas about…?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "He's not thrilled. I don't think we've got a choice, though. I didn't wanna worry you, but he's not doing so good. As in, whatever we're gonna do, we gotta do it today. I don't think he's got longer than that."

Damn it. Sam had been afraid of that. He'd known all along it would most likely come down to this, and knowing he hadn't found a better solution in time stung like acid in his heart. Poor Cas… at least that other angel's grace had bought him a little more time as an angel, but it wasn't worth it if that was what killed him in the end.

"And I gotta say," Dean spoke up again. "I'm not really digging the idea of just cutting it out of him, either. What the hell are we supposed to do, hold him down and slit his throat like Metatron did? There's gotta be something else-"

"God, no!" Sam gasped, eyes widening in horror at the idea. A chill wracked through him at that image; even with Cas consenting, Sam didn't know if he could have done it. "There's a syringe at the Bunker. The Men of Letters used it for grace extraction. It's still gonna hurt…" Hurt like a bitch, and hopefully not kill Cas anyway. It was a risk, but doing nothing would mean certain death. "But at least we won't have to cut him open."

Dean slumped with obvious relief. Sam had forgotten that his brother didn't know about the grace extraction device, now feeling bad for Dean and what he'd probably been trying to steel himself for.

"Anyway, he never really agreed, but I think he was starting to lean that way," the older Winchester finished. "So as soon as we get back, you're gonna rest for a while-" No room for Sam to protest. "-and then we'll talk to him. But it's gotta be today."

Sam nodded and leaned back into the seat. He winced again as the Impala couldn't fully avoid a bump in the uneven road. They were all going to need some time to be fully on the mend, but his family was known for overcoming the impossible, and Sam was convinced all three of them would do just that.

SPN SPN SPN

It was still early afternoon by the time Dean pulled the Impala back into the familiar cover of the Bunker's driveway and turned off the engine with a sigh of relief. Sammy was home; check one more item off the to-do list. Next step, convince Cas to let them remove his grace. As long as they did this one step at a time, the daunting tasks they had ahead didn't seem as overwhelming.

"Okay," Dean grunted as he shoved his door open and jumped out. "Hang on."

He hurried around to the passenger side while Sam opened the door, then held out his hand to help his brother to his feet. There was no hiding the frank pain it caused, but Sam gamely fought through it without a word. Not that this stopped Dean from watching his brother like a hawk, waiting for the slightest sign that Sam was about to fall.

With one foot swathed in bandages from the bullet wound, Sam had to use his other leg to bear his share of the weight, though he was leaning heavily on Dean. The hunter was getting a good workout, helping his various family members ambulate… Dean really didn't like this form of exercise.

"Now I get why Crowley calls you Moose," he grumbled, puffing with exertion as they slowly descended the exterior staircase to the sunken front door, one step at a time. "Hang on a sec." They paused so Dean could fumble through his key set one-handed, finally locating the one for the Bunker and unlocking the door. It creaked open on its hinges, allowing the brothers to shuffle inside before it swung shut behind them.

"We gotta think about putting an elevator in," Sam groaned.

Eyeing the interior staircase—twice as long as the ones they'd just come down—Dean had to agree. What would they have done if Cas hadn't fixed Sam's knee, if the hunter was stuck in a wheelchair? Filing that thought away for another time, Dean adjusted his grip on Sam and then urged him forward.

"Come on, one at a time," he badgered. "You can take a nap when we get down there."

Together, focus fixed on each individual stair, the brothers worked their way down the staircase. Though Sam didn't utter a sound, Dean could feel his grip getting tighter and tighter as the movements aggravated his injuries.

Damn it, Dean wished he hadn't let Cole off so easily- no, he couldn't think that way. The Mark on his arm pulsed at the first hint of Dean's desire to extract more blood, more pain from the man who had done this to his family. Already, Dean was scared that if he killed again—monster or otherwise—it might be the kill that sent him over the edge. He didn't dare take another life until the Mark was gone.

Finally, they reached the bottom, both brothers breathing a sigh of relief. Sam was hunched over from the pain now, making Dean feel better at having swiped some more morphine.

"We're home free now," he joked. "Two steps up into the library, a couple more to the hall, then straight to your bedroom. How you doing?"

"Fine," Sam grunted as they crossed the smooth floor of the war room, heading for the library. They took the few steps a little slower, and Sam exhaled sharply. "I just-" He froze, taking Dean by surprise as the older hunter watched the ground in front of them for obstacles. The sudden stop made him glance up at his brother in confusion.

"What?"

"Cas!"

What? Dean's gaze whipped around to follow Sam's line of sight. His heart stuttered to a stop as he saw a motionless leg stretched out on the floor between the tables. The rest of Cas was hidden behind the support column.

"Damn it!" Dean's mind raced; what the hell was Cas doing out of bed? Had he been heading for the kitchen, needing more food than the crackers Dean had left for him, or… or was he trying to run again? Was Cas so afraid of becoming human, so worried about being turned out of the Bunker, that he'd decided to let the grace kill him after all?

Dean wanted to run to the angel's side, but the hunter's hands were full and he couldn't just drop Sam. He looked wildly for the nearest chair he could deposit his brother into, when another voice made the world stop spinning.

"He's dead."

Cole stepped out from behind the support beam, gun in his hand and smile on his bruised face. He was holding the angel halfway off the floor by the back of his shirt, and as he emerged, he dragged Cas out behind him and then dropped him to the floor with a heavy thud.

Dean couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even care about the weapon pointed directly at him. His mind played the words over and over again, ripping into his heart.

He's dead… he's dead… he's dead…

"Don't worry," Cole went on, nudging Cas's lifeless arm aside with his foot. "I made it quick. For a so-called 'angel', it was surprisingly easy. I guess a pillow over the face does it for just about everything… only took a minute for him to stop struggling."

"You shut your mouth," Dean hissed, hands starting to clench. It wasn't true… couldn't be true. Cas, oh god… "I killed you!"

"Yet here I am, Dean-o," Cole said, smile widening. His eyes flicked to the taller Winchester. "Hey, Sammy."

"You bastard," Sam whispered with trembling voice.

"I'll make it quick for you, too. No reason to drag this out. I think you've had enough."

"You're a real hero," Dean snarled. His blood heated, the Mark starting to glow. Kill… he needed to kill. Even if it ruined him, he would destroy Cole, he would spill every drop of blood in the bastard's body, and he would break the man who had murdered his best friend.

Cole shrugged. "Nah. But at least I'm not a monster."

"The hell you're not!" Sam choked out. "You…"

"Like I said," Cole cut him off, brandishing the gun and stepping closer. "I'm gonna make this quick. Bye, Sam."

Dean didn't stop to think—probably couldn't have if he'd wanted to, anyway. Blood pounded in his ears, blotted out his vision of everything but Cole, tinged in red. He shoved Sam away from him a fraction of a second before the echoing sound of the gunshot, just in time to get his brother out of the line of fire, and then his mind went dark.

With a roar of fury, the hunter charged forward, tackling Cole to the ground. Somewhere, he heard the gun fall. Somewhere, he heard Sam's agonized shout as he hit the floor as well, but at least he was alive. Unlike…

Dean shouted again as the knowledge that he'd left Cas unprotected and undefended consumed him. Cas, too sick to walk to the bathroom, too weak to keep his eyes open, waiting for Dean to come home and instead met with an intruder coming to kill him… Cas, and the muffled sound of shock as a pillow was put over his face with all of Cole's weight to hold it down… Cas, trying to struggle, desperately clawing for breath until finally his life slipped away because his grace was useless now…

Dean's fist flew, over and over, pounding into Cole's face, his gut, any part of him that he could reach. His knuckles split, hot with blood. He wanted more.

"Dean! Dean, stop!"

Sam's voice was just background noise, the buzzing of an insect as Dean grappled with his enemy. Cole managed to roll them both over, dripping blood from his nose as he took the upper hand and slammed Dean's head down onto the solid wood floor.

Stars burst in Dean's vision, briefly whiting out the red haze shrouding him. He lay there, stunned, as his head swam in a nauseating, concussive blur. The weight on him disappeared.

"Sammy, you first. Nothing personal."

Dean's head lolled to the side, watching a set of feet walk away from him. Another blur of color was moving across the floor; Sammy, crawling as fast as he could. Right, there was a gun under the desk…

Kill him, the Mark whispered, smooth susurrations in Dean's mind. The sinister, sinewy whisper echoed in pounding time to the rush of blood in his veins. Kill him… kill him… kill him…

Sam reached the desk, snatching the gun hidden there, pointing it at Cole. Dean heard the report of the gun, but the grunt of pain that followed was Sam's. Cole must have been close enough to knock Sam's arm aside.

"I won't let you hurt him!" Sam gasped. "You'll have to go through me."

Cole snorted. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Dean heard a gun clatter to the floor as he clawed his way back to full consciousness fighting the dizzying fog from the blow to the head. When his vision cleared, Sam was propped up on one arm on the floor, the other hand defensively extended towards Cole. The soldier loomed over him, his own pistol pointed at Sam's head.

Kill him… the Mark insisted, but now there was another voice in Dean's mind, pushing back the influence of the evil Mark: Sam, telling him of a nightmare. And Dean's response: The only thing keeping me on the reservation was your dumb ass.

Sam needed him, needed him whole. Despite his rage, despite the body of his best friend lying lifeless and still beside him, Dean forced the Mark aside and scrambled to his feet. He watched Cole kick Sam's gun away, sending it skittering across the library floor with the screech of metal. Dean ignored this, slamming into Cole yet again.

This time, though, Cole was too quick for Dean to get on top of. They rolled down the steps into the war room, then both jumped to their feet. Cole had managed to keep a hold of his gun, but didn't use it. Instead, he turned and ran back up to the library. Dean could only watch in helpless fury as Cole grabbed a chunk of Sam's hair and pulled him in tight as a shield.

No one moved. Dean was frozen, glaring into the library as the soldier used his brother as a hostage—again. Sam was kneeling, both hands trying to grab Cole's arms so his whole weight wouldn't be held by the grip on his hair. Cole himself had the gun against Sammy's head, breathing heavily as he scowled back into the war room at Dean.

"It's over," he snapped. "I win."

"There's no way you walk outta here alive," Dean seethed. He was only barely holding the Mark's influence at bay… if Cole killed Sammy now, there would be no reason to hold on any longer, no reason to stop himself from giving in. Sam was the only thing keeping Dean human.

Cole grinned, but it was full of bitterness and spite. "You know, I don't even care," he said, tightening his grip on the already wounded Winchester. "As long as I take you down with me. So I'm gonna shoot Sammy here in the head. And then you're gonna go crazy and come charging in, and I'm gonna shoot you, too, then burn all three of you to a pile of ashes."

Despite the chilling threat, Dean couldn't fully focus, distracted by a slip of movement in the background. His expression never changed, too skilled at playing it cool to reveal what he had seen, but his heart fluttered back to life with a fountain of relief and renewed determination.

He said nothing as Cole shook his head.

"Was it worth it?" the soldier demanded. "Killing my dad? Was it worth losing everyone you love?"

"Your dad was a monster-"

"Just save it, Dean-o. Monsters, demons, guys with glowing blood… you believe in demons, Dean?" Cole snorted. "You believe in angels?"

Dean's face split into a grim smile, eyes hardening as he met the soldier's gaze and lifted his chin.

"I believe in one."

The shot echoed in the otherwise still Bunker, ripping through the tense atmosphere. Cole's body jerked, eyes opening wide in shock. Another shot, then another. The soldier jolted again and again, his grip on Sam falling slack. For a minute, he and Dean stared at each other, one surprised and the other stony.

A trickle of blood dripped from Cole's mouth. Then he fell.

Behind him, still stretched out on the floor, Cas dropped Sam's discarded gun with a weary sigh. His eyelids fluttered and his cheek came to rest on the cool wood as Sam swiveled around to see what happened.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, dashing forward. He ignored Cole's dead body—really dead this time, if the entry wounds in the back of his skull meant anything—and flung himself down beside the angel. "Hey… hey, you're alright. You're alive. Oh god, Cas…"

Too exhausted with relief to care about appearances, Dean hauled Cas up and wrapped his arms around the angel firmly, whispering soft reassurances.

"Dean?" Sam demanded from behind them, pulling himself over. "Is he…?"

"He's alive!" Dean gasped. "Everyone's alive."

"He… he took me by surprise," Cas whispered into Dean's shoulder. "I couldn't…"

"It's okay. You got him, Cas. You got him, he's dead."

"I thought I was, too," Cas murmured.

Dean's heart tightened. He'd thought the same. But both his brothers were okay. Dean raised his head as Sam slid in next to them, leaning against the table leg with exhaustion. Eyes sliding up to his brother's mussed hair, Dean couldn't help but shake his head.

"I swear to god I'm gonna cut it all off in your sleep one of these nights."

"Not if you wanna see morning," Sam shot back, but the joking air was covered in a layer of concern as he grabbed Cas's arm as though needing the proof for himself that the angel was truly alright. "Cas…"

"I'm fine, Sam. I'm sorry if I worried you-"

But then he started coughing again, and couldn't seem to stop. Being suffocated had been the last thing his condition had needed, and to have been close enough to dead that even Cole had been fooled… Dean winced, waiting for the fit to pass, but it didn't. The angel writhed in Dean's arms, drenched in sweat even as he shivered. He was getting too hot again. Dean's heart sank.

They were out of time.

Meeting Sam's alarmed eyes, the hunter nodded curtly. He gripped his friend in spite of the heat as Cas finally sank back in exhaustion. After a few more light coughs, it seemed to be over for the moment.

Sam traded another quick look with Dean, then took a breath. "We can't lose you, Cas. You're part of this family. I know you don't like the idea of being human, but… if it's between that or us having to go on without you… And this is a big decision, I know, but it looks like it's now or never."

"Cas," Dean added quietly. "Please."

Cas exhaled, pulling himself away from Dean's grip and struggling to sit up, though none of them even tried to get up off the floor. The angel's jaw tightened, then he looked from one Winchester to the other with eyes rimmed red with fever.

"He told me he was doing me a favor," Cas said softly, glancing past them to Cole's dead body. "When he was smothering me. I… decided I disagree." He turned back to the brothers. "I don't enjoy the thought of being human. I don't look forward to the extraction process. But I don't want to die. You- you're my family. I want to enjoy that a little longer."

He gripped Dean's arm, nodding to the Mark. "That means you need to get this taken off." Then he grabbed Sam with his other hand, uniting the three in one unbroken link. "And you need to take care of yourself, not just everyone else."

The brothers glanced at each other, then nodded agreement. Whatever it took to keep them together as a family, they would do. Things were about to get very difficult, but when were their lives ever not difficult?

Reaching for Sam, Dean completed the circle. Though the Mark still wanted blood, the desire wasn't nearly as strong as his love for his family, and for now that would hold the evil at bay.

"Alright," he said. "It's decided. Team Free Will. We've got your back, Cas."

The angel nodded. "And I've got yours." Cas paused, then looked up with eyes burning with determination. "And that's all that matters."

A/N: And here we reach the end of our little tale :) Huge thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, and favorited! Thanks in advance to any anonymous reviewers since I won't be able to respond. And thanks as always to Aini NuFire for being such a great beta!

See you tomorrow evening for the next installment of Into The Breach! Until next time, y'all.