AN: Again, just a reminder that this is speculative season 9 as in I do not know anything about season 9 - and with all the tid-bits being released I think we can safely say that this story is heading to AU territory. Thanks to MissMe13 for beta-ing :)
24 HOURS AFTER THE ANGELS FELL
Dean had opened the door to reveal a lanky looking man with light brown that sat tied in a little rat-tail just above the collar of his shirt. He actually looked eerily similar to Garth. Young, radiating with exuberance….it took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes as he stepped aside to let the doctor in.
"Probably some'ing residual...demon...salt...back-up...Rory...turkey blood...willow ash..." Rory mumbled to himself, gesturing for Dean to take in the rest of the equipment.
"He's in here. Kevin, back up a bit," Dean said, moving towards the bed where Sam had been moved to. Sam hadn't been moved to his own room and instead Dean had opted to take him to the room right next door to the bathroom. It was easier that way.
"Rory, do you need anything?"
"Nope," came the reply.
Watching the contents of the bag being pulled up left Dean's eyebrows shooting upwards. "Hex-bags, blood, herbs…shit, what the hell is all this crap?"
"How else do you expect me to fix 'im if you ain't gonna let me take him to a hospital?" Rory took Sam's hand, pricking the kid's index finger and squeezing out a drop of blood onto a little paper strip. "If he's got internal bleeding I gotta stop it somehow, now don't I?" He plugged in three scanners into the electrical outlet and set the monitors beside him. "Now get, and let me examine 'im properly."
Dean's protests were ignored as Rory manhandled him out into the corridor, Kevin following after. With the door shut behind them, he punched the wall and sank to the floor.
"Sam's going to be ok," Kevin said.
The prophet looked unsure if the sentiment would be welcomed and he looked distinctly uncomfortable having offered that little gem already.
As far as he was concerned the next words out of his mouth could have been a string of swear words and insults, each cutting deeper than the last. Though, he had to give the kid props for asking. He snorted softly, rubbing his neck and taking pity on him. "Permission to leave." Kevin nodded once before leaving and as he disappeared around the corner a loud sigh and a muttered 'thank God' reverberated through the walls.
Finally, the door swung open to reveal a slightly rumpled looking Rory. "I think it'll right itself in the end. Internal bleeding was a big worry...an' some of 'is organs are damaged...he's got an infection, start of what looks like pneumonia...and a few busted ribs and fractures in 'is forearm. Shin splints, which is odd. Supernaturally...and, well, that's a bit of a tough one. Look's like he got a bit of, well, demon in…"
"Fuck...wait-demon in him?"
"Well, not an actual demon...more like the essence of one...he's not going to be possessed...it's like a link, sort of. A bit like he swallowed a stone and it's just sitting somewhere in his body."
Dean barrelled past him towards Sam with his eyes filled with regret. "Are-how do you know...for sure?"
"Well, I said Christo and he opened his eyes." Bullshit; as if that did anything. He knew what saying Christo meant and as he was about to let out a tirade, Rory continued. "As soon as you got out the room I knocked 'im out with a sedative...he shouldn't have woken up for a tornado, if one just so happened to come through the middle of that room. I tried an exorcism on 'im and he didn't bat an eyelash...almost drowned 'im in holy water too...not a peep."
"You sure?" Rory nodded. "Uh, can you check on Kevin...down the corridor, take two lefts and then it's third room on the left." Another nod and then the doctor was off.
"Hey, Sammy." He placed a finger on Sam's pulse just to reassure himself. "Got yourself pretty banged up here, haven't you, brother?" Jesus Christ, something demonic inside him. Fuck, Sam had said that these trials were purifying him from that demon blood and now what? He was gonna carry around a little bit of demon in his pocket at all times? He could still see Sam's feverish face as he told Dean why he could never be a knight and if that hadn't damn near broken his heart nothing would have. It almost made him drag Sam away from that stupid motel and that stupid town and that stupid set of trials, because how dare Sam feel tainted and damaged and unworthy and just why did it always have to happen to him?
"Christo." He clenched his fists as Sam's eyes snapped open for a moment and then closed tight.
He waited for a few minutes before repeating the word"Christo"and watched in sick fascination as it happened again.
Rory had to be wrong.
He pulled out the demon-killing knife and carefully cut into Sam's arm, watching the little thread of red blood well out from the crevasse. Sam still had not moved a muscle. Pocketing the knife and resting his elbows lightly on his knees, his head dropped until his hands rested lightly over his mouth in distress. He stared at Sam's eyes.
A pleading whisper: "Christo."
Open…
No, damn it, Sammy...please no...please…
Close.
The hands moved up from his mouth to cover his face.
"I should head off," Rory said, cracking his back and beginning to grab some of his equipment.
Dean started, head turning towards the doctor, blinking to clear his vision "Uh, yeah. Thanks for all this."
"You Winchester's pull some intense shit. Ever thought of taking a holiday?"
He laughed bitterly. "Believe me, I've tried."
"Well, you have my number. If there's any change, call me. His temperature spikes, you get 'im in a bathtub immediately. I know that's a pain in the ass, but he radiates heat s'if the fires of hell were in 'im."
You don't know the half of it. Dean's jaw tightened involuntarily. "Yeah."
"Oh, and watch out for Kevin. I'm glad you made me check him too. He needs to eat more and stay hydrated...You tell 'im I'm threatenin' him with an IV if he don't get better habits next time I come in. Make sure he takes 'em sleeping tablets too: two nights on, two nights off. Kid's got bags the size of the moon under those eyes. He's twitchy 'n all."
"Aye-aye, captain."
"Don't be smart with me. You oughta take care of yourself, too. If you insist on staying with Sam, drag a mattress in. Even you need sleep, Winchester.
_?_?_
"Sir, sir? Are you okay? You can't sleep here. C'mon move along." The police man shone the light into Castiel's face, darting the beam in front of the ex-angel's eyes. "Sir, are you hurt?"
Righting himself on the park bench, he pulled his coat around him, peering at the officer in confusion. "No."
"Then move on, please." The light dipped a little.
Move on where? He didn't even know where he was. "I, I don't have a place to go."
Taking pity, the officer gestured for him to enter the squad car.
In the backseat, he dutifully put on his seat belt. Something he learned from Sam, who wouldn't carry him if he wasn't wearing one and kept yelling at Dean when he didn't. He stared at the scenery whizzing past him before a thought came to him. "Is there a church still open?"
"Yeah."
"Please, may I go there?
The officer hesitated. "You can't sleep there, buddy."
"I do not wish to sleep…"
Sighing, the car slid to a halt near the back of the church car park.
Castiel made sure not to stumble out of the car, nodding once towards the officer. As the car pulled out of the lot, he began moving towards the church. The cold air wrapped around him, his foggy breath rising like smoke. Just a few steps away from the entrance, he looked up at the sky. The night unmarked by stars. It was simple. So unlike the night before where streaks of colour dashed the sky.
Tonight, it was clear and the expanse of darkness stretched practically forever...everything had become so fucking complicated.
"Metatron, I hope you can hear me, you son of a bitch! I trusted you and you took everything away from me! You destroyed my family and put us all on this godforsaken earth and you know what? You know what?! Be prepared. I am coming for you. I will find a way to fix this and in the process, I will make you human and cast you down so you can write your own fucking story!" Chest heaving, lungs burning from the rapid intake of breath, Castiel crumpled to his knees right outside the church door, squeezing the tears from his eyes.
His eyes widened as the pastor stepped out from a door next to the pulpit, intending to lock the church for the night. As the priest began to walk towards him, he drew himself
up, clutching the door frame.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "You're soaked through...come inside."
"I apologize for the late hour."
"Was that you yelling?"
Cringing, he nodded. "I apologize for that, too."
"No matter, please…I'll be back in a moment." He watched the pastor gesture to the pew, indicating him to take a seat. As the pastor disappeared from view, he bowed his head, playing with the wallet in his hands and taking a moment to process everything that had just happened to him in the last day.
Dean went to stop Sam from closing the gates of hell. Sam was most likely dead. Dean told him not to trust Metatron. Metatron lied to him, killed Naomi, took his grace and completed a spell that sent the angels to earth and let himself into the house. Dean seemed to have a knack for knowing the truth. He bit his lip, frowning slightly.I should have asked him how such a thing was possible. He jumped, feeling the weight of a fluffy towel wrapped around him.
"Do you have a place to stay for the night?"
"Someone took everything I had. I have no home or possessions…"
"Family?"
He ignored the stinging in his eyes. "I-he...they are dead. I have no one."
The pastor looked unconvinced. "Surely, you must have friends?"
Okay, so the stinging was beginning to hurt. Rubbing his eyes and ridding them of the tears that threatened to fall, he shook his head. "I did...but my actions...I do not imagine that they would be receptive of me. I am by myself."
The face across from his own softened considerably. "No one is ever truly alone." Hesitation. "I have a spare room in my house...you could stay there for a while, until you get yourself sorted." The offer was very kind and unexpected. Was it normal for people to offer a place to stay to a stranger? He declined the offer, pointing out that did not seem to be an accepted practice. He received a laugh. "I was in training to be a lawyer before I was called to God's service. If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that I never follow accepted practice."
"I see." He really didn't.
"So, shall I make up the spare?"
AN: Thanks for reading :)