Part II
Sam's heart was jackhammering against his ribs as they fled through the streets of North Platte, Cas sagging between him and Dean. Sam kept throwing harried looks over his shoulder, terrified that Lucifer would be storming after them any second. But while the Colt may not have been able to kill the Devil, it at least knocked him down for a few moments. Hopefully the three bullets Dean shot him with would buy them enough time now to find somewhere to hide.
They stumbled off the curb and crossed the street, Dean steering them toward a diner. Glass crunched under their boots as they pushed their way inside. The interior was trashed, but blinds covered most of the windows, leaving just enough of a view of the street to give them warning if someone approached, and they could head out the back exit into the alley.
Sam's throat constricted when Cas slumped heavier in his grip, a choked groan working past the angel's lips. He didn't think Cas could make it if they had to run again.
He and Dean half carried him around overturned tables and chairs to the back where there was a relatively clear space on the floor. Sam kicked a napkin container out of the way as they eased him down. Cas's face was tight with pain, his eyelids drooping as he barely clung to consciousness.
"Easy, easy," Dean said. He reached for the zipper at Cas's collar and undid the jacket, then frantically pulled the shirt underneath up.
Sam sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the circular burn in the center of Cas's chest. The skin around it was red and inflamed, but the wound didn't seem to be bleeding.
"Okay," Dean breathed. "Okay, hang in there, buddy. It's not that bad."
Sam clenched his jaw because it was that bad; Lucifer had shoved his hand straight into Cas's chest like…Sam didn't even know.
"What was he trying to do?" he pressed.
Cas let out a muffled grunt, face scrunching up under another spasm. "He…my grace."
Dean's face drained of color. "He tried to rip out your grace. Like he did to Uriel."
Sam's eyes widened. Wait, but that had killed the other angel. "He didn't, right?" he asked Cas in alarm. Yeah, he remembered hearing Cas's panther yowl, and Cas's grace had been spritzing around him, but…
Cas started to shake his head, then grimaced and choked on a stifled moan. "No. Not- not fully. But…I can feel…tears…ungh." His back arched, and then he fell completely limp, head lolling to the side.
"Cas? Cas!" Dean leaned forward and patted the angel's cheek urgently.
Sam reached for the pulse point under his jaw and held his breath. "He's got a pulse." He pushed himself to his feet. "There's gotta be some first aid in here somewhere," he said, and started for the kitchen.
It was just as a mess as everything else, but after rifling through some cabinets, he found a first aid kit, complete with supplies for burns, since cooks often had to deal with those. Sam checked the sink, but there was no running water. However, he found a plastic gallon in the back, and some dish rags that didn't look filthy.
Gathering everything in his arms, he brought it all back out to the diner floor. Sam passed Dean the burn cream while he started unwrapping packets of pre-sized gauze patches. It took overlapping three of them to completely cover the wound, and then Sam taped them in place.
He rocked back on his haunches, casting a fearful look out the window.
"Lucifer won't be able to find us," Dean spoke up. "We've got that warding on our ribs."
Sam was suddenly grateful he'd insisted Dean get that when Cas had first brought it up. "Yeah, but he's going to be really pissed when he gets up," he replied. "He might decide to tear this town apart looking for us."
Dean reached up to run a hand down his face, gaze fixed on Cas. "We can't move him like this. And there's no way he'll be able to fly."
Sam's gut clenched as he glanced at the angel, who was still out, tremors running through his muscles. "We can't stay here. There's nothing we can do for a grace injury; we have to get him to Gabriel or Hael."
"How?" Dean asked desperately. "We're six hours from camp, and we don't have the ingredients for a prayer ritual."
Sam's chest constricted as fear and frustration clawed at his lungs. If only they'd driven instead of traveling through the ether. But they'd been in a hurry, worried they might miss their one shot at Lucifer. And now they were stranded without supplies or extra weapons. Not that any number of angel bullets would be of use against the Devil when the friggin' Colt wasn't.
But this whole plan had been stupid, and they'd let their eagerness get the better of their judgement. And now Cas was maybe dying because of it.
"I'll go out and look for a vehicle," Sam said.
Dean visibly stiffened, but Sam barreled on before his brother could protest.
"There shouldn't be any demons around."
"Uh, there's Lucifer."
"Like you said, I'm warded."
"It doesn't make you invisible!" Dean snapped.
Sam spread his arms helplessly. "We can't just wait around for him to eventually find us. Cas doesn't have that kind of time."
A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as he glanced at said angel. "Alright," he finally grunted. He pulled out the Colt and passed it over.
Sam almost wanted to insist Dean keep it in case Lucifer found him and Cas first, but figured it was a nonnegotiable point for his brother, so he accepted it, tucking the antique gun in the back of his waistband.
"I'll be careful," he promised.
Dean nodded gruffly.
Casting one last look at Cas, Sam tore himself away and headed for the door. He paused at the window to scan up and down the street. It was empty. Sam took a deep breath and opened the door just enough to slip outside.
Finding a working car in an abandoned town wasn't going to be as easy as it sounded. Most of the vehicles had been severely damaged; others simply had their gas caps hanging open from when survivors had siphoned off the fuel for themselves. So Sam had to find not only a car with a running engine, but with enough fuel to get them back to camp.
He moved quickly yet cautiously. Despite his assurances to Dean, Sam was nervous about running into the Devil again, especially now. Ever since his trip to retrieve the first Seal, he'd been unable to shake the taunts of the phantom voices saying the demon blood gave him a connection to Lucifer. It had all been part of Gabriel's booby traps, preying on his fears to scare him away from the Seal, but logic didn't banish the whispers in the dark, louder now that he was alone and the Devil was somewhere out here.
Yet there didn't seem to be any sign of Lucifer. Which kind of made Sam more on edge.
He wove his way through detritus as a storm started rolling in. The wind picked up with a bitter chill, and lightning flashed in the distance. Ten seconds later came a low rumble of thunder. Not long after that it started to sprinkle.
Then, a different sound echoed across the sky. Sam looked up, eyes widening as through the darkening clouds, he saw the silhouette of a fulvous dragon banking right to fly off into the distance. Three shimmers of silver shot after him.
Sam's shoulders sagged with a small measure of relief. At least the agents of Heaven and Hell wouldn't be looking for them now. He folded the collar of his jacket up as the rain pattered more forcefully, and pressed on more earnestly.
Dean rummaged around behind the diner counter, searching for anything that might be of use. There was nothing edible, big surprise, but he'd found a sweatshirt stuffed in the cubby hole underneath the register, which he grabbed and took back to Cas to at least pillow under the angel's head.
The color had steadily been leeching from Cas's complexion, and he'd broken into a cold sweat. Dean picked up one of the cleaner dish rags to mop his brow.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Dean glanced out the window at the sleet sky. He tried not to worry about Sam, but with Lucifer somewhere out there and his little brother alone, Dean wasn't having much success. He turned his attention back to Cas in time to see the angel's eyes sluggishly slide open.
Dean straightened. "Hey, buddy," he said, gently dabbing the rag across Cas's clammy forehead.
Cas's eyes were cloudy and exhausted as he gazed back at him. "Hey," he rasped.
"How you feeling?"
Cas grimaced. "Not…well."
Dean winced in sympathy. "Just hang in there, alright? We'll get you back to the angel compound and Hael will fix you right up."
Cas lolled his gaze around the diner. "Where's Sam?"
"Getting a vehicle."
Cas snapped his gaze back, pupils dilating in alarm. "But, Lucifer—"
"Sam's got the Colt," Dean interrupted.
"The Colt didn't work."
Dean's gut clenched. No, it hadn't. He'd risked them all on a stupid, unverified long shot, had acted on the word of a demon instead of sticking with Gabriel's plan. And he'd dragged Cas along, and now his best friend was…no, Dean wasn't gonna let himself think 'dying.'
"Sam will be fine," Dean said out loud, to assure Cas as much as himself. "Just save your strength while we wait for him."
Cas closed his eyes for a moment, jaw clenching in what looked like pain. Dread carved out a pit in Dean's stomach. He'd seen what Lucifer had done to Uriel, how he'd ripped out the angel's grace and consumed it. That he'd tried to do the same to Cas…god, what kind of damage had the Devil done? Lucifer may not have gotten all of Cas's grace, but Cas was obviously in bad shape.
"I am so sorry," Dean whispered.
Cas's eyelids fluttered open to gaze at him quizzically, and then his expression softened in understanding. "This wasn't your fault."
"It was my idea. I pressured you into coming without thinking it through first. I put you and Sam in danger."
Cas weakly lifted a hand to settle it on Dean's wrist, and the hunter's chest constricted at how the angel didn't even have the strength for the barest grip. "I agreed to come because I thought we had a chance. If anything, I should have known the Colt wouldn't work."
Dean shook his head. "Don't. Don't you dare blame yourself for this."
Cas let out a frail sigh. "I won't if…you won't."
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation even as his heart gave a pang. "Fine. But only because you're playing the sympathy card."
"As long as it works," Cas mumbled, and then fell silent.
Dean folded the dish rag over and continued to press it gently over the angel's brow. He tried not to think too much about how Cas's fingers resting near his other hand were icy to the touch.
"You in pain?" he asked. He doubted the tiny Tylenol packets in the first aid kit would do much on an angel's metabolism, but that burn looked pretty bad.
"No," Cas answered, voice growing fainter. "Not really." He paused for a long moment. "I think I'm cold."
Dean quickly shrugged out of his jacket and his top button-down layer, spreading them over Cas's torso and legs. He couldn't help quirking his lips at the sight.
"Told you I'd get you to wear flannel one day," he joked.
Cas huffed out what sounded like a garbled laugh, but then his face scrunched up with a gasp.
"Okay, easy, easy," Dean soothed, clasping the back of Cas's neck and working his thumb into the corded muscles there. After a few moments, the wave of pain seemed to ebb, and Cas opened his eyes again. His blue irises looked even more dulled now, if that were possible, and Dean had to swallow a surge of fear.
The next breath Cas exhaled wheezed. "Dean, if I don't…"
"Don't say it," he bit out harshly. "That is not even an option."
Cas let out a heavy sigh. "I just meant, tell Gabriel…tell him 'thank you.' For coming back for us. His supposed death devastated Heaven. That was the start, I think, of so many beginning to lose their way." Cas's chest hitched. "He gave us a home again, a purpose. And- and I don't tell him…enough."
A spiky lump settled in Dean's throat. "You can tell him when we get back," he said thickly.
Cas held his gaze for a moment longer before his eyelids fluttered closed and stayed that way.
Dean moved his hand to squeeze Cas's lax one. "I will get you out of here," he promised fiercely.
Lightning flashed outside, reflecting across the walls. Thunder followed less than two seconds later, and rain started pattering the windows. Dean's stomach cramped with worry for Sam, for Cas. He felt so helpless, the so-called protector of Camp Chitaqua. But he couldn't do anything to help his best friend.
Except urge Cas to hang on until they could get him home. Dean kept one hand firmly gripping Cas's as though it could provide an anchor, while he went back to wiping the cold sweat from the angel's damp brow with the other.
The rain was pounding now, splattering the windows and obscuring visibility. Despair began to creep its way into Dean's heart the longer it went on and Sam didn't return. Maybe his brother had run into Lucifer, or a demon. Or maybe he'd just gotten hurt somewhere, but how was Dean supposed to go look for him? He couldn't lose them both…
Something banged from the back of the diner, and Dean jerked ramrod straight. He whipped his gun from its holster and surged to his feet in one smooth movement, eyes narrowed as he crept forward. The hallway was dark, but he heard squishing footsteps coming across the linoleum. Dean raised his gun at the ready and waited.
A dark figure lumbered toward him, and Dean dropped his aim the moment he recognized his brother. Sam was soaking wet, but very much alive and seemingly unhurt.
"What the hell took you so long?" Dean growled.
Sam gave him a sympathetic bitch-face as he brushed sopping hair away from his eyes. "Took a while to find a vehicle I could even get running, and then the roads were so bad in places I had a hard time getting it back here. But it's parked out back and has nearly a full tank of gas."
Dean could have kissed the floor at something going right, for once.
"How's Cas?"
He immediately sobered. "Not good. Any sign of Lucifer?"
"I saw him fly off," Sam replied, following Dean back out to the front of the restaurant. "Looked like some angels came after him, chased him away."
"Then let's go before he shakes them and decides to come back."
Dean knelt down next to Cas and lightly shook his shoulder. "Cas, buddy, wake up. We're getting out of here."
Cas moaned, eyes moving rapidly beneath his lids. Dean patted his cheek.
"Come on, man. Once we get in the car, you can pass out again, I promise."
Dean didn't want to have to resort to a fireman's carry, as that would rub against the raw burn on Cas's chest.
Cas finally peeled his eyelids open and blinked blearily at them. "Sam, are you alright?" he croaked.
"I'm fine," Sam assured him. "Can you walk? It's just a short distance."
"I'll try."
Dean pulled his shirt and jacket off of Cas and draped them over his elbow, then reached down to grip the angel under one arm while Sam grabbed the other. On three, they hefted Cas to his feet, and nearly lost their balance when he continued to pitch forward from the momentum.
"Easy, easy," Dean repeated as he and Sam turned to half carry the angel out the back door.
A black SUV was parked in the alley, the engine idling. Cas slipped on the wet ground, but Dean tried to hurry to keep Cas from getting soaked in the rain. Sam opened the back door and they helped Cas climb inside. The angel immediately collapsed in the backseat. Dean leaned in to drape his coat and shirt over Cas again, and then told Sam he was going to grab the water and first aid too.
Sam nodded, and climbed in beside Cas to get him situated while Dean jogged back into the diner to retrieve the supplies. It wasn't much, but it would be a long drive, and there was no telling if they'd run into complications along the way.
Sam was in the passenger's seat when he came back out. Dean stowed the first aid kit and two plastic gallons of water at his brother's feet, and then went around to climb in behind the wheel. He glanced over his shoulder at Cas, who seemed unconscious again and was quivering even underneath the extra layers.
Dean cranked the heater up all the way and looked at Sam, who was even more soaked and starting to shiver. Crap, and they didn't have a change of clothes.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked.
"I'll be fine," Sam replied resolutely.
Dean put the car in drive and eased the SUV out of the alleyway. "Just don't get pneumonia on me," he said under his breath. He paused as he surveyed the street before giving the engine more gas. "And, Sam, nice work."
He spared a brief glance at his brother, whose mouth quirked slightly as he nodded in return.
"I just hope it's in time," he whispered soberly.
Dean's gaze hardened. It would be. He'd make sure of that.
The windshield wipers squeaked but were functional. Sam was right; the roads were horrendous, but it wasn't far to the highway, and from there, it was empty sailing. Dean's stomach tightened as he realized they'd be traveling after dark, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Dean would mow down anything that tried to get in their way.