People were talking.
Men were talking.
Of this Dean was almost positive.
One of them was Sam. He knew his brother's voice so well, and there was never any question in the owner of ragged words. However, the other voice? That was a bit dodgy. It sounded familiar, but… the world was only just beginning to come back into focus for Dean, just bits and pieces slotting into place in the darkness.
Everything was uneven and disjointed, conflicting senses arguing with one another. Like loose puzzle pieces, only he didn't know what the picture was supposed to be and he wasn't sure all the pieces went to the same puzzle in the first place. He swore he had about five corner pieces and no edges, and wanted to know how he was expected to put together something like this.
From where he lay he could see that there were brown curtains pulled tight against piercingly white light coming from outside. There was a blue blanket beneath him, the threads rough under the skin of his hands, against his cheek … or maybe he was getting this wrong. Maybe the blankets were white and the light was blue… His eyes stung badly and he closed them again.
There was the taste of blood in his mouth, stale and metallic. There was a low ringing in his ears, making the noises that got through to him sound distant and muffled. He was sweating like the middle of a heat wave in July and in the same moment he couldn't remember the last time he felt so cold.
And all he managed to pull out of these firing synapses was the thought that he had been knocked unconscious far too many times in the past few weeks.
"What's he doing now?" Sam's words became more than just familiar dips in tone and nuance, finding meaning.
"Trying to talk to our Father."
"He's praying?" Sam sounded almost amused at the suggestion.
"Looks like it."
"And that's gunna' help Dean?"
"Well, it probably won't make it any worse."
"Thanks- that's real comforting."
And maybe it was comforting, but only a little, and not to Dean.
His bones hurt.
Bones were never meant to hurt- not outside of adolescent growing pains.
And he was way past that point in his life.
A few years back, in some dismal part of Nebraska, Dean had relocated his own shoulder in a motel room. He looked up how on the Internet, largely delirious from agony, and he used a wooden chair with a thin padded seat the color of faded mouthwash. It took him almost two hours; he passed out four times. To that point in his action-packed life, it was the second most painful thing that had ever happened to him.
Dean was demoting that memory to third place.
"So I guess this means I won?" He forced out the words in a way that was meant to sound lighthearted but he knew fell a little short of convincing. His throat was raw and he must sound like Cas; all broken glass and sandpaper mucking up his words.
"You're awake?" Sam's shadow cut a cold spot over Dean and he realized he was shivering though he had no idea how long that had been going on.
"God, I hope not." Dean pried his eyes open and felt a spike of pain lance through his temple. The room was way too fucking bright for his taste and he had suspicions that they had changed the bulbs to two hundred watt while he was out.
"What happened?" And that was just like Sam, asking the dying man questions.
And for whatever it was worth, it was a great question. An amazing question- one that Dean did not have an answer too. He remembered getting doughnuts with Cas, Sam had found something… something weird in the journal… Dean remembered talking to Andy on the phone and then… slivers of violence. Images so quick and misplaced that they meant nothing to him. He tried to put together enough of those flashes for a proper memory and all he got was a gutted feeling, a hot slash of pain from groin to throat and he choked on it.
"I don't know." He whispered when he could breathe again. "But I must have won-"
"Won what?"
It surprised Dean to discover that they were on a bed and not the floor, because it sagged under Sam's added weight, the springs screaming in disapproval. It sure didn't feel soft enough to be a bed. Perhaps they should start staying in slightly nicer motels- ones that provided actual mattresses instead of spinal torture devices.
Someone touched the curtains on the other side of the room, admitting a stab of cheerful, bright afternoon sun.
A nausea inducing shiver ran up Dean's spine and settled at the base of his skull. Light was bad, very bad. Sound was almost worse. In a quick reevaluation of his symptoms, Dean decided that he might have a migraine on top of everything else. He had heard of them- they were supposed to hurt like fuck. This sure hurt like fuck.
"Won whatever happened." He closed his eyes and tried to whisper, to see if it would hurt less. "If I feel this bad the other guy must be worse." He managed to communicate with his limbs enough to coax a hand up over his eyes in an attempt to blot out the searing light. "Tell me he's worse."
He didn't answer right away and that was probably a bad sign. If Dean had been able to look at Sam he could have almost certainly read the meaning behind the less than enthusiastic expression that his younger brother was undoubtedly wearing.
"I don't know what happened." Sam finally found the words to start. "I found you on the floor… talking to yourself and bleeding."
"Some son of a bitch must have gotten the drop on me." Dean spoke slowly, choosing his words with care, little ones seemed to hurt less to say. "So stop fussing and find the bastard."
"Just give me a place to start, Dean." And that opened ended threat really sounded like Sam meant it. He was willing to go off on an epic man hunt for no reason other than someone had hurt his brother.
Dean felt himself grinning despite how it made his face ache.
"It is not advised." When Cas spoke it sort of trickled down through Dean, he could feel the words in his chest, the rumbling, low syllables settling along his ribs. The Angel must have been in a chair beside the bed, somewhere up behind Dean's head, much closer than Dean had considered. "The one who did this has an investment in Dean's well being- he doesn't have the same outlook towards you, Sam."
"Some fucking investment." Dean managed to pry his eyes open enough to peek out from between slanted fingers.
Sam looked concerned, and it wasn't that Dean hadn't been expecting to see that exact expression (sometimes he worried it was one of the only ones his brother knew to use in these sorts of situations), but he had not expected it in this particular magnitude. The expression Sam wore was the sort usually reserved for the bedside of dying men.
"Dude, you should see your face." He swallowed the lump of panic down. "I can't be that bad."
The slow, suffering breath made Sam's chest rise and fall like a mountain shifting restlessly. The younger Winchester schooled his expression into something more neutral, his poker face that Dean had been able to see through for years. He tried a smile, and it never had a chance of reaching his eyes.
"You look like death warmed over."
Dean grinned and felt like he might throw up. "You're looking pretty hot yourself." He made a move to sit up and immediately changed his mind. "Is all that blood mine, or did you gut a pig while I was out?"
Sam looked away from Dean's face to examine his own hands. It wasn't nearly as bad as Dean made it sound, there had obviously been an attempt to clean up and only little brown crescents of blood around Sam's fingernails and the dark stains around his elbows belayed any sign of what had happened.
"Let's just say it's a good thing we didn't have to put a deposit on these rooms- because there is no way we'd be getting it back now."
"Yeah." Gabriel chimed in from the other side of the room in an inappropriately cheerful manner. "There's this big Winchester shaped stain on the carpet now." And it was the other voice, the one that had been talking to Sam while Dean was grappling with unconsciousness.
Dean thought that he might actually dislike Gabriel- but now was not a good time to let Sam know that he had crap taste in men. Such big-brotherly advice could wait.
"Awesome. I wish I'd been awake for it." He covered his eyes again more thoroughly. "I always wanted to make a blood-angel.
"That is not a thing, Dean." Castiel assured him softly from his perch nearby. And despite the fact that Dean was fairly certain he was in shock and had some sort of head trauma. The sound of the Angel's voice did funny things to him- it sent prickles up his arms and made the knot in his stomach lessen considerably. He wanted to wrap himself in that voice until the pain receded and he felt human again.
"Sure it is, Cas. Just like a snow-angel, only redder."
"I don't think I understand your reference." One of his warm hands touched Dean's arm and it was perfection in centimeters.
"Dean-" Sam cut in before his brother could try to educate Cas on the finer points of snow frolic-ry. "I know you get like this when things get bad, but you really need to try and focus. Whoever did this is still out there and they might come back."
And Sam was right, like always. Damn him.
If an injury was minor, Dean would make a point to whine and mope about it, complain nonstop and force Sam to do things for him out of guilt, pity or annoyance. It was when Dean refused to acknowledge the injury or started making jokes about it- that's when Sam knew it was bad. When Dean did everything he could to draw attention away from what was wrong, that was when it was time to worry.
Sometimes Dean hated how well they knew each other.
It made it much harder to get away with diversion tactics when the other guy knew all your tricks.
"So what's the plan, Sammy?" Dean held out an arm, an unspoken request for help in sitting, which was another bad sign on its own, but Dean was doing his best to not keep a running tally.
Sam gripped his arm and pulled him upright without a word, not even commenting on the grunt of pain that hardly masked the suffering noise that escaped Dean.
"You've got to remember something." Sam urged, somehow sounding as if he belied himself. "Something for us to go on."
Dean closed his eyes with the excuse that it would help him think more clearly- and not at all because the room was spinning.
"It will be unlikely that he has retained any memory of the event." Cas said sensibly, as if no one could really expect Dean to have any recollection of what felt like a blunt force injury to his skull. "His mind will most likely try to protect itself, to block out what happened."
It was such a strange way to explain things- like they all already knew what happened (aside from Dean), like Cas was chiding Sam about bringing it up. Dean carefully opened his eyes and tried to look over his shoulder without falling over and mostly succeeded by having to push his hands down into the mattress for support.
Cas was indeed sitting beside the bed, one of the room's wooden chairs pulled into the corner and the sight of him summoned up all sorts of bad ideas in Dean mind. The Angel had that sickly pale color again, the one that made his dark eyes stand out like burn marks. There was a smear of dried blood under his nose and curling over the edge of his upper lip, almost casually, like a vulgar fashion statement.
"What happened to you?" Dean felt anger, hot and caustic, chasing away those last few shivers that had been left to run unattended through his body. Something had happened, and Cas was hurt and that made Dean angry in strange, new ways.
"Don't!" Sam was on his feet and taking a hurried step towards the Angel who had opened his mouth to speak. "Just don't." The hunter urged, holding up his hands like he was trying to sooth a startled animal.
Which was not a bad comparison, as that was precisely what Cas looked like right then, his eyes gone a little wide and glassy with shock and something else.
"Jesus, Dean. Don't get him started again." Sam sank back down to the bed, looking anxiously at Cas where he sat, poised on the edge of his chair.
"The fuck is going on now?" Dean demanded. He felt he was in the current position to make demands. The world owed him something right now and an explanation was a good place to start.
Sam rubbed at his eyes, long fingers slipping over the bridge of his nose. "You were… hysterical when I found you, shock or delirium or… Fuck, Dean, I'm not a doctor- but you were in it in a bad way and your boyfriend tried to fix you."
"Fix me?" Dean looked back to Cas with worry and a hint of anxiety, choosing to ignore the fact that apparently the Angel and him were now officially a couple.
"I stopped the bleeding." Cas answered in way of clarification, just as calm as you please.
Gabriel took that moment to join their conversation, coming to lean against the wall beside his brother, closing the awkward circle of bodies. "Then when Sam asked what happened the little Einstein tried to explain it to us." He flicked some hair from his eyes and his smile looked tired. "The spontaneous nose bleed and following seizure sort of cleared up what he was trying to say."
"I believe if I am able to find the right words they will not trigger an adverse reaction." And Dean didn't know Cas well enough to be sure, but he sounded a little guilty. Like he blamed himself for the painful onslaughts of internal bleeding anytime he tried to talk about why he was Graceless and stuck on Earth, or Michael.
And regardless of the many unfavorable things that could be said about Dean Winchester- he wasn't an idiot, at least not when it mattered.
He pressed his hands back over his face, hiding like it might somehow help. "And if he had one of his fits it means that whatever happened to me had to do with…" He let the unfinished thought just stagnate in the air. He didn't need to finish it; they all knew what he meant without him suffering to find a title for his problems.
In a way it was a comfort.
It meant that there was no new baddie joining this late in the game.
Small miracles.
If Dean believe in such things.
"But you already knew that." He accused softly, looking over at Sam. "So why ask me?"
"Because Cassy can't talk about it and you're the only one else who might have a clue as to what's going on." Gabriel rolled his eyes in annoyance, as if the answer was obvious. "I've got some idea what Michael might have up his sleeve but mum's the word until I know for sure."
"You're so damn helpful." Dean grumbled. "What would we do without all your insight and advice? I'm real glad Sammy brought you along."
Gabriel only grinned at Dean. "Look, Deano, I've got some serious restraints leaning on what's left of my mojo. If I start running my mouth it's gunna' make what keeps happening to Cassy look like a lucky break. I'm doing the best I can here to stay under the radar and still help you mutton heads- but if Michael is planning what I think he is I recommend you just try and get the fuck out of Dodge and wait for it to blow over."
"Is that what you're planning to do?" Cas cut in before Dean could explain that nothing would make him happier than throwing his hands up and leaving all this, but he had not exactly been given a choice.
"Damn straight. I'm not letting Michael drag me into another one of his games of cowboys and Indians."
"And where will you abandon us for this time, Gabriel?"
Cas spoke so softly Dean thought he might have imagined it, but the blonde Angel stiffened and made a point to look out the window at the parking lot that had suddenly become so very interesting.
"You've already forsaken Heaven. If you flee here as well, where else do you have to go?" When Gabriel didn't answer Cas made a frustrated noise that sounded like it must have hurt. "You are supposed to be an Archangel. You were supposed to fight alongside us and when we needed you most you deserted us. The end of mankind is nigh and you would do the same to them. You would leave them to their destruction just as you left your family."
"This is not the same thing, Cassy." Gabriel was still looking out the window but there was something decidedly defeated in the slump of his shoulders.
"Our brothers will lay waste to this world and every lovely creation that inhabits it just to fuel their petty dispute. And you would let them." It was such a bitter accusation, like Castiel could think of no greater insult. "You can't remain neutral forever, Gabriel. You can't keep running. You must pick a side."
"Like you did?" Gabriel finally turned around, and for the first time since meeting him, Dean saw anger in the smaller Angel, and it was something horrible to behold. It wasn't loud or brash like every other thing that he did. It was something quiet and corrosive, malice just below the surface, dancing in his bright eyes, making his small frame tremble slightly. "Should I beg our absent Father for his forgiveness and return to the fold? Should I join Michael and his crusade like you chose to do? How well is that working out for you? Are you still feeling good about following his orders? Tell me, Castiel. Oh great and wise, faithful little soldier that you are- please tell me what I should do."
The Winchesters sat in the silence that followed, stuck somewhere between the two Angels and their combined fury that made the air prickle with life and destruction.
And Dean felt something close to disappointment when Castiel was the first to flinch.
The younger Angel looked down at his hands, his fists that were shaking against his sides. He spoke softly in his surrender, backing away from the argument. "We each make our own choices and it is not my place to question yours. I apologize."
The tension in the room lessened in stages and Dean released the breath he did not know he had been holding.
Gabriel sort of deflated too, offering a lopsided smile. "Forget about it, Cassy. Now's not a good time to drag the skeletons from the closet anyways." Like that, it was all over, shoved under the rug and forgotten about. They were all just supposed to pretend that Castiel had not just furtively called his older brother a traitor. The act of which seemed either an incredibly brave or foolish thing to do to an Archangel, at least in Dean's eyes.
But maybe there was a cunning streak somewhere inside Cas, deep down and well hidden under layers of unassuming Angelic coating- or maybe he just naturally had an ability to get off stellar parting shots. "I merely thought that in the face of Lucifer's intent to tear Sam's soul apart you would want to denounce your neutral standing on our brother's war. I will not bring it up again in the future."
A few things happened at once.
Sam made an interesting noise and for the first time in his life seemed honestly at a loss for words.
Gabriel's golden eyes went startlingly wide; his thin eyebrows creeping up towards his hairline and his jaw went slack in an expression of shock so comical it would have been funny in almost any other situation.
Dean could honestly feel his brain shutting down, refusing to compute the thing that had just been said.
And Castiel… Castiel was smiling. A big, open, proud smile that was so painfully out of place it was jarring, and honestly, a little scary.
Before anyone could find words, Cas spoke up again, starting with one of his strange little laughs. "I'm not bleeding."
"Fuck, Cas." Dean wasn't even aware he was forming the words. They were just there, spilling from his mouth.
"I told you," the Angel sounded excited. "If I found the right words I would remain uninjured when I spoke them. I told you."
A silent moment seemed to skip by, mocking them.
"But Michael can't be that stupid." Gabriel said suddenly, like he had skipped forward a few pages in the script. "He would have to- but it's suicidal. I was expecting him to just pull some of his flaming sword, spreading judgment in Gehenna bullshit on all the sinful humans. But no- He's throwing himself into the lion's den just for… for what? It's a war he can't expect to win. He has to see that."
Somehow Castiel managed to follow the onslaught of words and was teetering on the edge of his seat, his eyes flicking about quickly, like he was searching the room for more of these magical words that he could use without fear of retaliation. "When Lucifer rises and takes a host… surely that would be enough of a violation to draw our Father's attention."
"It's enough to do a hell of a lot more than that." Gabriel dragged a hand through his hair, getting the same look of concentration on his face.
Dean slowly looked over at Sam- the two of them were being ignored anyhow.
The news of Sam's soul suddenly in jeopardy did not look to have gone over well and the younger hunter looked pallid. He was blinking more often than necessary, looking lost and that was enough for Dean.
"Will you two shut the fuck up for a second?" He spoke louder than he had intended and he coughed, feeling the warm slick of blood between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
The Angels stopped their excited conversation of doom and gloom and looked over as if they had truly forgotten that there was anyone else in the room.
Now, as unfortunate as it sounded, Dean had started to become a little accustomed to the fact that he was well on his way to being sucked up into an apocalypse and damned eight ways to Sunday. Sam was a little newer to this level of complete and utter unfairness and he was not being given the proper adjustment time necessary. He would find his footing. He would get back up to speed once he finished processing the fact that apparently fate, or the universe at large, or whoever was in charge up there honestly hated him. He just needed a little breathing room.
"You alright there, Sammy?" Dean reached out and touched his brother's shoulder, aiming to get his attention.
Sam looked like he had strayed far off the path, somehow managing to appear utterly alone despite being surrounded. "What would the Devil want my soul…" Sam couldn't finish it, and it wasn't that he was afraid. Dean knew Sam's scared face. Sam was honestly just confused; baffled that anyone would assume value enough in him to take an interest- somehow overlooking the whole demon blood and psychic children army debacle with Azazel not too long ago.
"He doesn't want your soul." Cas explained easily, seeming to still be taking great joy at his new found ability to talk. "He wants your body."
"Ok." Sam licked his lips, struggling to compute this information. "That actually sounds worse somehow. Thanks."
"Aw, don't worry, Samsquatch." The excitement was melting away as Gabriel came back to the reality of the room that they were all in and the slightly devastated expression his boyfriend wore. "I won't let Lucy give you the bad touch."
"You shouldn't call him that, he doesn't like it." Cas advised gently.
"I don't mind it as much as you'd think." Sam almost smiled at Cas, trying to calm his own nerves.
"Not you. Lucifer. He doesn't like being called 'Lucy'."
And Dean laughed, because Devil or not, it's hard to be a scary son of a bitch if your name's Lucy.
.:.
Sam left with Gabriel, presumably to get pizza for everyone and some pills for Dean- though Dean had his suspicions that they had run off to talk about everything that was going on, and damn it if he didn't feel like he was being left in the dark. But as long as someone filled him in when they got back, he could forgive them. And in all honestly, he was grateful for the quiet that ensued once they were out of the room.
His head was still splitting. It hurt to look at things for too long and he was starting to wonder if his left knee had been dislocated and not reset- because it sure felt like it had. He managed to stay sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out beneath the blanket that he tossed aside despite the cold he still felt. He couldn't work with the flimsy thing in the way.
"Do you need something?" Cas rose from his chair to hover over Dean like an anxious mother.
It took a two second assessment of the joint to confirm Dean's suspicions and he braced himself. "Nah, I got this." He curled his fingers around the loose ball of his knee and pulled it back into place with a moist thunk.
Relocating a knee was by no means a pleasant activity- it had been out of place long enough that fluid had started to fill the joint and it was stiff and swollen. However, in the face of the looming misery fogging the rest of Dean's body… it really didn't hurt all that bad. It was important to keep things like this in perspective. Knees weren't such a big deal where you were fairly sure that you were bleeding internally.
Dean lay back down and wished that he had a way to clear his thoughts, to remove the bitter and squirming bits of conversation that were determined to keep him from happily wallowing in self pity at the throbbing pain that showed no signs of leaving any time today. He wanted to ask Cas what was going on, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't get much out of him, at least nothing too helpful. Also, he really just didn't want to have to deal with this kind of crap right now.
He never got a day off.
Dean just wanted one day where he could just relax and not worry about the end of the world, or the Devil, or ghosts, or vampires. Just one day to himself. He would probably go to California, visit the ocean, nap in the sun and check out those blond, curvaceous beach bunnies. Or maybe he would just stay wherever he was and sleep for a whole day, waking only to order take out and maybe watching some Pay-per-view.
Was that too much to ask?
Probably.
He closed his eyes and listened to Cas settle back down into his chair.
The pain was enough to keep Dean from drifting off to sleep, so he lay there with his eyes closed and tried not to think to hard about things.
"I am sorry."
Dean didn't bother looking over, he just sighed softly. "Is'not your fault, Cas."
The Angel made a noise and it said more than a whole speech could have. More than a whole library had any chance at every saying.
It was his fault- or at the very least he thought it was.
Though what exactly he was blaming himself for was a bit of a mystery.
Dean turned his head to face Cas, opening his eyes and really looking at the Angel sitting beside him.
Could this really be the same individual that had fallen out of the sky and wrecked his car? Was this the same wild eyed thing that bled on him and his backseat? The same man who had escaped a handful of demons after being held captive for a year… who had killed or banished a handful of Fallen Angels… who had tried to protect Dean from Sam even when he was so broken he could hardly keep himself upright…?
It was hard to tell, that night felt like a lifetime ago and the man beside him showed only the faintest shadows of that fateful encounter. There had been a strength in that feral creature that Dean had found… or that had found Dean on the road in the middle of the night.
There was no fight left in those beautiful blue eyes that captivated Dean so fully.
Now the Angel just looked uncertain.
Cas looked as doubtful as Dean had felt since meeting him and it didn't leave the hunter with many options for what to do next.
"Com'ere." Dean held a hand out and Cas did not take it but abandoned his chair to perch tentatively on the edge of the bed. "Now," Dean started- cautiously venturing into the forbidden land of touchy-feely conversations. "Can you tell me what you're sorry about without bleeding all over us?"
"I'm sorry I could not be stronger."
"That's not really something that you can control, Cas."
"I was weak and I have sinned greatly since my fall."
Dean was developing a bad feeling in his stomach that was threatening to roll up and out his mouth. "I'm not a priest; you don't have to confess any sins to me."
"There is to be a war, Dean. A war fought not just in heaven, but here on Earth and in the deepest pits of hell… and I … I have lost my faith in our cause." Cas looked down at where Dean's hand still lay open on the bed between them. "I question if I ever had any to begin with."
"You don't need to apologize to me- or anyone for that, Cas."
The Angel reached out to him, trailing their finger tips together, feather light and then gone like a dream. "I have-" His eyes suddenly dimmed and he made a pained noise before pushing forward. "I have escorted you to your own destruction. You have trusted me and I-" He folded in on himself slightly, his arms clutching at his stomach and biting off whatever ending would never make it to the end of that sentence.
Dean found the strength to sit up (mostly) and grab the Angel's shoulder. "Stop it." And he didn't know if he meant the uninvited confession that was killing a part of Dean, or the obvious pain that Cas was putting himself in by trying to continue said confession. Maybe it was both.
He let his hand slide over Cas' back, smoothing down his shoulder blades and the almost indiscernible ridge of his spine. Cas shuttered against the touch.
"Today's been shit for everyone. We'll figure this out tomorrow." They could try at least, Dean didn't know if any of this was going to turn out well or make any kind of sense any time soon… but they could try.
Cas looked up at him, a dark trickle of blood peeking from the edge of his lips and he looked stricken at the suggestion.
"It's ok." And maybe that was the world's biggest lie. Being lead to his destruction was about as far from ok as you could really get… but he trusted Cas. He didn't know why, and to be honest, that trust felt a bit shaken- but despite the words being told to him, Dean had not witnessed a single wrong committed by the Angel, so it was a bit hard to get as worked up as he knew that he should be.
He had meant it when he said that today was complete shit.
The only solution for it would be to wait until it blew itself over.
They could try again tomorrow.
Tomorrow Dean would have a hefty dose of pain killers in his system and even if he could not think clear enough to puzzle his way through all the information being thrown at him, he knew that Sam had a good head on his shoulders and would be ready for the challenge. Between the two of them they could piece together what Cas could not tell him. The potential of a revelation of that sort kind of scared Dean, but he had become desensitized to the feeling years ago.
He gently wiped the blood from Cas' face, staining his own fingers and not giving a good god damn about it. He let his hand fall back onto the mattress, what strength he had left starting to fail in favor of just drowning in pain.
Cas watched him for a span of heartbeats then lowered himself to the bed beside Dean, laying down and stretching out until their toes touched. Dean folded his hands over his stomach, getting his arms out of the way and making more room on the narrow mattress.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
"Damn it, Cas. Not again." Dean honestly didn't have it in him to keep this up much longer.
"I am sorry for forgetting that you have been through much today. I shouldn't trouble you with my worries and shortcomings."
"Shortcomings?" The word sounded funny for some reason.
Cas did not answer, but he did close the distance between them and kiss Dean's forehead in a way that was positively tender. "In one of the programs I watched on the television I was informed that when someone is injured kissing the hurt area will help to lessen the pain."
Dean grew quiet as he processed this and felt himself smile. "I've heard that too."
"Where can I help you?" The Angel leaned over him again, hesitating with his lips just above Dean's, waiting for direction.
Sure, Dean felt a bit like he was dying, but he wasn't dead yet.
Cas took his job very seriously, ministering to all the mumbled directions that Dean managed to give, only to eventually surrender to the action as they both knew that they would. They curled around each other and ignored pain as best as they could in favor of slow, poignant kisses that lasted long enough to leave them both gasping for breath before coming back together as if they were starved for the touch.
Unfortunately their brothers did return with the promised food- and this was only unfortunate because their timing coincided with Dean getting up the strength and courage to get a firm grasp of Castiel's backside and firmly pull their hips together. And if the debauched noise the Angel made in response was any indication at all, he did not mind the unexpected friction between them.
"Well, they sure look like they're feeling better." Gabriel said loud enough that Dean jumped. "I told you not to worry about him, Sam."
"You should have locked the door, Dean. I'd rather not go blind." Sam half tease as he set the pizza box down on top of the TV, quietly averting his gaze from the bed.
"Cas, hey… pizza. You'll like pizza." Dean made promises, sort of a consolation to them having to stop when obviously it was one of the things furthest from Cas' mind right then.
Inadvertently, Dean had committed a very dangerous act. He had taught Castiel how to roll his hips, and the very fact that they were no longer alone in the room seemed to carry no weight whatsoever in the scheme of things.
With both his hands tucked firmly into Dean's back pockets, holding him in place, and one of his knees slotted between Dean's, the sudden rocking motion was astoundingly stunning enough to drag a groan from the hunter, layers of denim between them be damned.
Cas just gasped, his breath in tatters and he was seemingly frozen in place, so still beside Dean, his eyes closed tight, teeth digging into his lower lip. Dean's mouth had gone dry and all he could hear was their mingling breaths and his own heart pounding in his ears.
If all the things in the world worthy of being called good were placed into a list, that ragged, dry grind of hips deserved a place at the very top.
Dean really wanted to ask Cas if he was ok, because freezing was not precisely what one would classify as a normal response to rubbing up against another dude- or maybe it was… Dean was not an expert in these sorts of situations- he never claimed to be.
Apparently he had broken the Angel, they had gone a little too far and even if Dean's brain was screaming that they weren't alone and now was the ideal time to disengage in order to save any lingering shreds of dignity- he couldn't just leave his friend like this.
"Cas?" He tried and was only mildly startled by his own rough voice which sent a delightful shiver through the man clinging to him. "Cas, you still with me?" He rolled Castiel gently, lowering him to his back, settling him into the mattress and trying not to laugh.
And that's about when Cas made a noise that was neither a yes or a no and he dragged Dean down into a ravenous sort of kiss, all teeth and tongue and unmasked need. Subsequently, Dean momentarily lost the ability to think clearly- though he was distantly aware of Sam making disapproving noises and Gabriel laughing loudly.
Through brute strength of will alone Dean managed to pry himself off of Cas and sit up, though the dizziness he was trying to ignore was almost enough to lay him back down, everything glinting white and hazy before sliding back into color. He looked down at Cas and grinned before making himself look away.
"Sammy, you didn't get one of those hippy, California veggie pizzas, right?"
Sam had his back to Dean and was holding Gabriel out of sight, which wasn't difficult to do considering their dramatic height differences. "Only half of it."
"Good. That rabbit food just isn't suitable for real men."
"Did you just use the word suitable?" Sam risked looking over his shoulder and he visibly relaxed upon seeing that all the excitement was over.
"Hey, after all those damn PBS programs you made me watch over the years some of it was bound to rub off."
Sam sighed in a long suffering way and opened the box, handing over a slice of four kinds of meat that were hiding a small bit of pizza and cheese.
"Speaking of rubbing off," Gabe peeked around his giant of a boyfriend. "Did you break my brother? He's awful quiet over there." There was a hint of amusement, but under that, Dean could see a bit of worry, maybe even a touch of anger. Some people just don't like to admit that they are protective about their family.
Dean risked looking over at Cas, who was quietly petting his leg, though Dean was making a feeble attempt at ignoring the contact. "You ok? Want some food?"
"I think I am in need of a shower." Came an answer paired with some intensely inappropriate bedroom eyes.
Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks and he tried to push the fluttering in his chest down. "You're going to have to learn how to calm yourself down, Cas. You can't always just go to the shower."
"But my pants are sticky." Cas somehow managed to say some of the most inappropriate things Dean had ever heard with the straightest face.
Gabriel was laughing again and Sam put his slice of pizza down, wiping his hands on his jeans, and making a face that said he had lost part of his appetite.
"Go take your shower- I'll save you a slice." Dean was proud of stoic he was able to keep himself all the while watching Cas pull himself off the bed and walk unsteadily to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Dean tried to take another bite of pizza, but found he was grinning too much to manage. So he chuckled instead and struggled with how to feel about all of this.
The shower started up and Dean found himself just smiling and shaking his head. The pain from earlier was coming back in waves, making it almost hard to breathe for a beat or two, but it wasn't as bad as before and he wondered how much of it was psychological and how much was actual injury. He was still missing a chunk of time and had no idea what happened in it other than bad things. It was possible that his body felt a need to try and fill in the gap with raw nerve endings and inexcusably fierce pain.
"You don't even have the dignity to be embarrassed about all this, do you?" Sam looked plaintively at Dean, disappointment and a very personal level of embarrassment all his own at the fact he had accidently witnessed Dean and Cas being so flagrantly indelicate only a few feet away.
"Embarrassed? Dude, I should beat your ass for interrupting us. I just don't because I'm classy." Dean took a big bite of pizza, cheese pulling thin and snapping off to dangle down his chin.
"Classy. Right. Take your pills, you classy pervert." Sam tossed a prescription bottle onto the bed beside Dean with a rattle. Dean didn't ask exactly how Sam had managed to get a bottle prescribed for a one 'Arthur Miggenby' all that mattered was that the dosage said six hundred milligrams of Darvocet.
"Damn, Sammy. You got me the good stuff." He shook out two pills but hesitated to swallow them down. "Hey… I'm not going to be more open to… you know… being possessed and shit if I'm strung out on pain killers, am I?"
Sam looked at Gabriel for an answer and the blonde shrugged, shoving a piece of crust into his mouth and chewing twice before speaking. "It's possible- but with Angels taking a host it's got a lot more to do with permission than consciousness." He chewed a bit more and swallowed. "So as long as you don't go around offering your body out for joyrides to strange men we should be fine."
Dean made a face and downed the pills. They left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he had always been under the impression that the god-awful flavor was how you knew it was working. He finished his slice of pizza and annoyed Sam into fetching him seconds. He was most of the way through, little rivulets of orange grease slicking his fingertips, when a thought dawned on him.
"If he needs permission then how come he took me out back in Absarokee? I sure as hell didn't give him the go-ahead."
Gabriel's mouth quirked into that little smirk of his and Dean recognized it for what it really. On anyone else it would have been a hint of mischievousness or humor, but not on Gabriel. It meant that he knew something, something he wasn't necessarily happy to know but none the less he was strangely amused that you didn't.
"You're killing me, Winchester. Have you even been paying attention?" He shook his head, eyes shining with barely restrained laughter. "Michael's not the only one trying to get into your body. He's just the one who came asking for a ride this morning."
"Excuse me?"
"You've got a second hitchhiker… someone from a bit further South than Michael. Not right now mind you- but he's been around. He comes and goes. He's the one that gets Cassy so upset."
And Dean remembered that well enough (it was hard to forget two separate Angel's trying to exorcise you) and the fact that he may had the chance to get possessed by something other than an Archangel made him feel infinitely dirty and he didn't know what the difference was. It was a bad situation any way you looked at it.
"Wait a damn second- I can't get taken by a demon." He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing the anti-possession tattoo over his heart. "They can't get in with this on me."
"I didn't say it was a demon, Deano."
He had had his fill of this. "Jesus Christ. Could you be any more cryptic? I'm not up to beating the information out of you, you little jerk. So you're just gunna' have to be more open with me until the pills kick in."
"Denarian." Gabriel stole Sam's crust casually. "Not sure exactly which one, but honestly, how Cassy can keep sucking face with you without gagging just shows how bad he's got it. You smell like cancer and orphans and betrayal."
"Are you serious?" Orphans had a specific smell? Dean was willing to believe many things. That was not one of them.
Gabriel made a solemn cross over his hear with his pilfered crust before taking a bite. "Though the Fallen also technically need permission to hop in- So I think at this point they're just circling you, waiting for you to give one of them an ok."
"I didn't give anyone an ok the first time."
"One of them took you for a ride back in Absarokee and they can't get in if you don't say 'take me, I'm yours'. Suck it up, Deano. So you had an Angel all up inside you and it wasn't Castiel. What's done is done. No sense whining about it now."
If Dean had the strength he would have been up off the bed and throttling Gabriel. Not that it would have helped the situation, but it would have made him feel much better.
"I didn't tell anyone they could take me anywhere."
"Hey, cool your jets now. Angels, Fallen or otherwise aren't exactly known to come right out and say 'can I thrash your soul and steal your body for a few decades until it falls apart'. It's not our style. We like to trick people into giving up their bodies… which is basically what Michael is planning to do if he gets a hold of you. Someone pulled the wool over your eyes. I'm sure even the great Dean Winchester can be gullible sometimes." Gabe smiled and lowered himself to Sam's lap, looking amused, but very tired at the same time. "So again, don't give rides to strangers and you should be ok."
Dean lay back on the bed, finding an angle where he wouldn't have to look at Gabriel or the unusually quiet Sam. "So what does Michael look like so I can shoot him in the face if he comes asking around?"
"I think he plans for you to be his vessel." Sam offered quietly. "So for the time being he doesn't exactly have a body of his own."
When he lifted his head it was just in time to see Sam's little shrug. "It was in the journal you gave me. Don't look at me like that, Dean. Apparently the Devil himself wants me, so I think I've got it a bit worse than you."
"I told you, Sam." Gabriel leaned his head against Sam's shoulder. "I won't let Lucy get his paws on you. I don't like to share."
The bathroom door swung open and Cas emerged, quite naked and still a bit wet, and he went to Dean's bag to riffle through for clothes to wear. "He cannot take you as a vessel, Sam, if he cannot get out of hell."
Dean was unsure if he should look away or if he was allowed to stare, as such he ended up with incredibly shifty eyes and fairly tight pants. Never in his life had he had this sort of physical reaction to another dude. Typically there was just a mild 'gross' factor, or a mental comparison to see how he measured up. It wasn't like him to get hot and bothered at a bare man-ass or a glimpse of pale hip and thigh (which was all Dean actually got), but it certainly did something for him right then, whether he wanted it to or not. Which he found he was oddly ok with, but only because it was Cas. Not all dudes. Just Cas. He was ok with being Castiel-sexual.
And Gabriel just had to ruin it all by laughing and saying, "Cassy, get dressed. You're upsetting the humans."
It sort of cemented in Dean's mind how much he really didn't like Gabriel.
"Sorry. Human bodies are quite awkward to look at. I forget." And Cas took Dean's bag with him back to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Dean lay there trying to think of the perfect insult for the blonde but he was having a hard time coming up with the right words.
"How you feeling, Dean?" Sam called out to him and sounded strangely far away.
Upon blinking and looking over at his brother Dean was startled to see that Gabriel was gone and the bathroom was quiet open and empty. Sam had the battered little journal open on the table beside his laptop and he gave Dean a knowing little smile.
"I'm… ok." He said carefully, confused to realize how true it was. He was hazy, but it was like the pain had receded behind breakers. It was still there but it couldn't get at him in anyway other than on the tall peaks of distant waves. "Did I fall asleep?"
Sam's chuckle was warm and welcome. "Yeah. You've been out for a few hours."
"Did I miss anything good?"
"Gabe and Cas got into another fight and then went out for ice cream."
"What were they fighting about this time?" Dean was still trying to get his bearings. It looked dark on the other side of the curtains and the bedside clock read eight-fifty-three. He had been out for a while.
"Gabe thinks the best way to avoid either you or me getting taken as a new suit for his big brothers is for us to hole up somewhere and just wait for it to blow over. He said that if Michael can't get at you he'll have to just find someone else or think up a new plan that doesn't involve releasing Lucifer from hell.
"Cas managed to get out that apparently no one has heard from their Dad in a few thousand years and this plan seems to be a last ditch effort on heaven's part to bring him home. He made it sound like they didn't have any other options on the table and weren't exactly looking like they wanted to back down from their apocalypse party." He pinched the bridge of his nose with an index finger and thumb. "Then they started arguing about whether or not you were righteous enough to be a vessel for an Archangel in the first place. There was something about a Cain and Abel parallel and Cas said that just because I have a corruptible look about me doesn't mean that you have to be the 'righteous man' that Michael needs."
"He's brought that up to me before actually. I think it's your hair cut, makes you look shady."
"I just don't think he likes me too much." Sam sighed and closed the window on his laptop screen. "It sort of went downhill from there and I got a bit lost- then they stopped talking in English all together- and then there was shoving and some yelling and after I managed to calm them down Gabriel decided that ice cream was in order to 'patch the brotherly rift' as he called it."
"Dude, you're boyfriend is weird… and a bit of an asshole."
And much to his surprise, Sam didn't argue or get offended; instead he just sort of shrugged and smiled. "He grows on you after a while." He glanced at his laptop and got a little frown between his eyes. "Besides, he's not any stranger than the one you picked."
"Cas just hasn't gotten the hang of being human yet. He's getting there. It takes time." Dean surprised himself by getting to his feet without falling flat on his face. He walked carefully to the bathroom, trying not to put too much weight on his knee, and got a drink of water from the sink. "Besides, I bet you once he figures out what he's doing that he's not half as much of a total prick as your boyfriend." He sat himself back down on his bed, but didn't lay back. He was feeling strangely antsy and wanted to be upright at least.
"Dean… are you sure about Cas?"
It was a conversation that Dean was overly aware of, looming in his near future, but he was swimming in a medication fog and really wasn't interested in talking this one out. Not now, not ever. "Out of everything you find out today, that's what you wanna' hone in on?"
"I think I can honestly say it's been the most disturbing discovery today."
"Homophobe." Dean snarked.
The look Sam gave him was exasperated at best. "Not hardly. I just… he's up to something. He was sent here for a reason and I think it has everything to do with you and nothing to do with any promise he made to Dad."
Dean really wasn't in a mood to talk about John and what he may or may not have been doing after death. Or any promises he may or may not have made any Angels make concerning his boys.
"Drop it, Sammy."
"Dean, I'm worried about you. You don't have relationships… ever. It's just not part of you, or your lifestyle and don't start- because it wasn't part of mine either. Hunting doesn't exactly encourage a stable dating life. But I knew what I was getting myself in for when I got involved with Gabe. Now you're getting all moony eyed with Castiel and you've only known him a month. If you two were just having sex I could understand- I've always had my suspicions you might be interested in guys-"
"Fuck you too, Sam."
"But you… I've never seen you look at someone like that. And I met Cassie. I saw the two of you together and it wasn't -"
"Don't bring her into this." Dean was starting to surface from the medication, sure he was dragging the grating pain in his skull up with him, but he couldn't just sit there and take this kind of talk without being fully awake and defending himself.
"You love him, whether or not you know it yet. And I don't know about you, but it's freaking me out, Dean."
"Drop it."
"I'm not saying he's not adorable in a weird way- and I wanna' be happy for you, because god knows you deserve to be happy at some point in your life… except this isn't like you."
"I said drop it."
They watched each other and Sam blinked first.
"I'm just worried you don't know what you're doing and I'm worried what he plans to do with you."
"With any luck it will be something you normally have to pay through the teeth for, and if that luck holds out it will be something you won't walk in on and screw up for me like you've been doing all day."
"I'm not talking about sex, Dean and you know it."
Metallica started playing right then, distantly and with an electronic flavor to it. It was Dean's cell and he had never been so relieved to hear it ringing. He pushed himself off the bed and just walked away from Sam, to the adjoining room and its newly bloodstained floor. Dean found his phone sort of half hidden under the hang of one of the bed blankets and the leaning down to retrieve it made him dizzy in all kinds of bad ways. He flipped the phone open and sat himself down on the foot of the closest bed, holding his head in his hands.
"Yeah?"
"Winchester." Andy's soft, feminine voice came down the line with a note of relief in it. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all day. What happened?"
"What d'ya mean?" He wished he had taken a few more pills on waking. His head was starting to pound, steady and ringing like a hammer fall.
"I was on the phone with you and then suddenly all I get is a lot of people yelling and a dial tone. I thought maybe it was a police bust or the Camanches got you or something." She sighed. "I know it's not my place to tell you what's what, but you scared the hell out of me."
"Sorry." And he didn't know why he was apologizing. "Some stuff happened." He was sure that was possibly the vaguest answer he could give, but it honestly wasn't something he wanted to share, much less knew what had happened anyways– as the last thing he remembered was taking to her in the first place. That thought made him a little nervous and he managed to get up and go back to the other room. If something weird happened again he wanted a witness if not a gunman. Sam would have to do.
"Ok… Well, I guess you're alright if you're answering your phone." He could hear her shuffling things about, the dry scrape of paper and soft rustling sounds just barely audible over the phone. "I found something this afternoon that might interest you. I mean, I'm not done with the next book or anything yet, and I don't really know what your brother is looking for in these things, but it sounded important."
Dean shook two more pills from the little brown bottle and swallowed them, waiting for Andy to keep talking.
"My dad- he started writing about meeting an Angel. It came to him in a dream years ago and… I mean- a real Angel- you get that? At least that's what he said it was. And I know you say you've got one or two hanging around, but it's still a bit hard to swallow, ya know?"
Dean grunted that he did know. It had been over a year since he first heard rumors of the things and even now the idea that they could be real was still very alien, despite everything he had seen and experienced and touched. "Why would an Angel come down and talk to your dad? They aren't exactly chatty group of guys." The ones he knew happened to specialize in not telling him just what the hell was going on.
"It seems that my dad was just supposed to write it all down. The Angel didn't tell him why, just to write. I think it was supposed to be a record given to someone else when the time came." There was a weight to those words like perhaps she thought that this might be that time.
"That's sounds like something they might do. They seem big on using people and not telling them why." He tried not to read too much into his own words because he knew he was one of those people being lead about and it remained a matter of contention for him.
"You make them sound manipulative. Aren't they supposed to be nice?"
"Some are, but I'm starting to think that most of them are just dicks with wings."
"Now that's an interesting mental image. Thanks for sharing. Do you mind if I finish telling you what I found, I don't have a lot of time." Dean found himself smiling and Andy continued in an annoyed tone. "The Angel told Dad that an Angel named Michael plans to let the Devil loose just so he can try and kill him. Someone is actually planning to kill the Devil."
And this was not really news to Dean but he made a soft surprised sound none the less. For some reason he wanted to let Andy feel like she was helping. Sometimes Dean thought that maybe he was way too nice for his own good.
"And I… if demons are real… and now Angels and the Devil are here too, shouldn't that mean God is real as well?"
Dean got quiet again, his smile fading. He glanced at Sam who was watching him like some sort of animal in a zoo, like Dean was this fascinating creature- or at least this one side of his exchange was.
"I guess he would have to be." He admitted begrudgingly.
"But, Dean- in all this mess there's a plan to let the Devil and his hordes kill off the majority of humanity- and for some reason this seem like something that Michael really wants to happen. What if God steps in and stops them?"
"Maybe that's part of the plan too." His throat felt dry. He couldn't remember the last time his throat felt so damn dry.
"But if someone can kill the Devil, what would stop them from killing God?"
Dean had a smart mouth on him; it had been getting him in trouble for years. He had an answer for everything- everything except this. He tried anyways.
"I've had a bit of a run in with Michael and… look, kid- if it's possible to kill the Devil, it's sure as hell possible to kill an Angel. And that's what I'm planning to do." Now, this was news to Dean, he had no idea up until the moment the words left his mouth that this was his plan- but it did sound like a good one so he didn't feel inclined take it back.
"But aren't Angels supposed to be the good guys?"
"Anyone willing to kick off an apocalypse loses their good-guy card in my opinion." And people wanting to possess him or that caused head injuries and black outs- Dean considered those to be bad guys as well.
Andy got a bit quiet, processing this new information. She harrumphed and there were more rustling noises to follow. "I guess I can see that. I just expected things to be a little more black and white from a righteous man like yourself. You know, Angels good, Devil bad."
"What did you say?" He was pacing the room, in spite of his protesting knee and he was acutely aware that Sam was still watching his every movement.
"Angels good, Devil bad?"
"No, not that. Did you just call me a righteous man?" The question stuck painfully in the back of his throat. He was starting to develop unique level of anxiety specific to hearing those increasingly familiar words.
"Yeah. I mean… you are… aren't you? Aren't you a righteous man, Dean?"
"I- I don't know. I try to be, I guess." Maybe he was just feeling tense. Maybe she hadn't meant anything by that very specific turn of phrase. There were days when Dean lived on the grace of 'maybes' alone.
"My brother told me once that the easiest way for evil to win is for good men to do nothing."
"That sounds about right." His head was really starting to pound and he wondered when the meds would kick in and it was difficult to remind himself to be patient.
"I think it's the only truth he ever spoke to me." More pages flipping over the phone line and her voice dropped to a whisper. "The things I've been reading, Dean. Things you wouldn't believe… and I'm afraid."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck and stopped his pacing, casting his gaze up at the ceiling and trying to find the right sorts of words to comfort her. "I won't lie to you, some days things can get scary as hell. But the fear will keep you alive better than anything else. You just have to keep going and keep believing that it'll somehow be ok in the end."
"Will it be ok?"
Dean laughed. "Fuck if I know."
She kind of laughed too, not that it sounded happy or anything, more of a noise of disbelief and fear. "Now don't go trying to make me feel better about all this. I wouldn't want to be disillusioned to the epic wonderfulness that is the Dean Winchester and all the powers he possesses."
"It can be a bit hard to live up to all the stories." He admitted.
"And oh the stories I've heard." She sniffled and Dean got the uncomfortable notion that she might be making an effort not to cry.
He frowned and wanted to ask her exactly what she had been reading in her dad's journal that had scared her this badly - if it was somehow worse than the ideas she had already shared with him. Andy hadn't struck him as someone who actively cried over non-important things like some other girls her age might be inclined to do.
"Dean, have you ever wanted something so bad, for so long, only to finally be told you can have it- but now you don't have a fucking clue what to do with it?"
Immediately Castiel popped into the forefront of Dean's mind. His odd little smile, the warmth of him, the way that his proximity made Dean's brain shut down in pleasant increments.
"Yeah." He said softly into the receiver. It was all he had to offer to such a question. If had known how to treat these feelings maybe he would have given her advice, but honestly, she had summed it up fairly well. He didn't have a fucking clue what to do with this. With any of it really.
"Fuck." She kind of squeaked into the phone. "He knows I'm here."
Something about those words made Dean's head hurt worse and he cursed the pills he had swallowed for taking their sweet time in working. "What?" She didn't answer immediately and Dean was worried his phone had just up and died on him. "Andy, who knows? Are you alright?"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her voice was coming through the phone strangely, high and cut through with static, but it couldn't mask the fact that she sounded terrified.
"Andy, where are you?" He could hear her breathing quickly, but she did not answer him. "Damn it. Where are you?"
"Dean, there's no such thing as an innocent person." She whispered in that high, frantic way that people tended to get when they were frightened and trying to keep their voice quiet.
"Where are you?"
"Truth is beautiful, without a doubt; but so are the lies. And it's just lies. It's all lies. Don't you fucking forget it, Dean."
Dean's headache broke, and not in a pleasant way. His knees gave out and he staggered against the wall like a drunk trying to keep his footing. The pounding became a high pitched whine, a white noise that lanced through his frontal lobe and shuttered down through his body, making each breath he took feel like a cattle prod between his ribs. He dropped his phone, pressing his hands to his eyes and struggling to keep from being laid out on the unwelcoming floor.
Sam was at his side, grabbing his arm and saying something that came out insubstantial and forgettable.
Sam's words were a lost cause through the cloud of pain, but somehow Dean managed to still hear Andy's voice ringing against his ear as if he had not already released the phone that should have contained it."I'll come to you. If you're serious about killing him, I have something that might help."
And then it was all gone. The ringing, the crushing pain and the young girl's voice.
As his vision cleared he saw his brother looming over him, sort of pinning him to the wall with one shoulder, heaving frantic breaths, sweat shining on his face.
"Dean?" The name was more of a question, like Sam wasn't sure who he was addressing.
"What did you do, Sam?" He didn't mean to sound ungrateful, really he didn't. Dean had a feeling that Sam had just done something dramatically heroic or at least quite badass- but it was more of a blur to the older Winchester than a proper understanding of events.
Sam grinned in answer, and it looked a little violent. "Before they left for ice cream Gabriel wrote down an exorcism for me. You know, just in case." He helped Dean sit on the bed and for some reason he still had not lost that faintly manic smile.
"You feeling ok, Sammy?" Dean was rubbing his face, relishing in the fact that he could breath, but also feeling strange about being the one to ask if someone was ok- his own personal current aches and pains feeling highly important.
"Yeah." Sam made a visible effort to get his face under control. "I just didn't- it feels a lot different than casting out a demon."
"Don't look so happy about it. You'll fucking give me nightmares."
"Sorry." Sam ran a hand through is hair, trying to play it cool, but Dean could still see the hum of excitement running through him.
He clamored to his feet, wincing at the stiffness that had failed to leave body and the perverse throb in his knee. "I'm going to take a shower." He was forced to push Sam's hands aside and he moved to help.
"You going to be ok?" Sam remained hovering, hands still held out like he expected Dean to suddenly collapse or something else overly theatrical.
"Hell no. But I'll shout if I feel anyone poking around in my head again."
He turned the faucet on as hot as it would go and didn't properly shower so much as he leaned against the wall and let the water cascade over his knee which was bruised a myriad of interesting colors.
Andy's words were still ringing in his ears, and maybe he should talk to someone about that- about her. He looked at his hands and they were shaking.
'I have something that might help'
Those had been the last things she said into the midst of the pain that had tried to take him out and he would have bet money that he had dropped his phone before those words reached him.
Timing was everything and the pills he had taken had started to spread a cottony fluff over his thoughts. Dulling everything, taking the edge off his anxiety, and the fear he felt welling in his gut- even the shadows cast about by the bathroom's one yellow bulb looked softer to his tired eyes. And when he looked at his own shadow cast against the pale blue tiled wall, he still saw two of the fuckers leaning casually beside him- and he smiled at them.
And maybe it was just the pills, but he was suddenly struck with the impression that one of them was smiling back.