Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings

Thanks again for reviewing/reading. And yes weiyaoli, this is complete. I'll try to update daily :)

Part 2

It was smooth sailing for awhile. They stood on an ashen cornice atop Mount Saint Helen's; strolled through the Oregon Coast Aquarium like normal tourists, Sam taking pictures he knew he would never have the chance to reminisce over; watched the sun gleam off the Golden Gate Bridge; walked in the hush of the Redwood Forest. They stopped at secluded beaches along the way and watched the sun set over the ocean. Sam never got tired of seeing the light disappear below the horizon, each sunset burnt into his memory as one of his last. Castiel stared too, stock still and serious, as if he were thinking the same thing, even though he really couldn't be. Amazingly, there had been no more signs so far of any supernatural creatures, demons, or angels, beside the obvious, and Sam finally found himself feeling relaxed and more normal than he had in a long time.

It was at a diner just after leaving the Redwood Forest that things hit the fan again.

Sam and Castiel sat at a corner table in full view of the door, each with their back to a different wall as if by instinct. Late afternoon sun fell in stripes through open blinds across the front row of tables as the dinner crowd began to wander in. This was apparently a busy local dining spot, and the bench seats and tables all filled up steadily. Sam sat scanning his menu even though he knew he would order the same thing he had the last time, and the time before that. Diners had no shortage of cheeseburgers after all. Not his usual fare, but these were his last meals and it seemed fitting somehow to honor his brother with diner food. He planned to have pie for desert too.

Sam folded his menu and looked up, startled by the waitress standing there chewing her gum, lips slightly open, pen poised over her pad. Castiel was staring out the window with his menu still open in front of him, apparently fascinated by a few white clouds passing by. Sam coughed and Castiel's attention was drawn back to him, then to the waitress.

"My apologies," Castiel said, folding his own menu.

"So, what'll it be?" the waitress asked. She was young and pretty and batted her eyelashes at Sam, and he had to smile, even if he really didn't feel like it. Her tag said her name was Sara though she hadn't actually introduced herself. She smacked her gum and smiled back.

"Um, Sara..." Sam started uncertainly. Then, pausing as if he'd had to give it some amount of thought, "I'd like a bacon cheeseburger, with everything on it... side of fries and a chocolate milkshake."

Then he nodded to Castiel. "The usual coffee for you Cas?" he offered.

"No," Castiel replied. "I think I'll have a sandwich... uh... the turkey club I guess, and this says it comes with a beverage." He nodded down to the menu.

"What kind of beverage?" Sara asked drumming her pen on the pad, her face adopting a long suffering look even though she really hadn't been waiting that long.

"Whatever you think would go with a sandwich," Castiel replied absently, head turning back toward the window. Sara rolled her eyes impatiently.

Sam shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "Just bring him, ah... an iced tea," he said. "Maybe with some milk and honey or something."

"Okay," Sara replied, suddenly smiling and chewing once again, then turned and bounced away with a quick glance and wink over her shoulder.

Sam smiled down at the table and shook his head, then looked up at Castiel. He was still staring out the window, and even though his face was a blank slate, there was a palpable tension about him, shoulders straight, hands flattened on the table.

"There's something wrong," Castiel said. His expression was hauntingly unchanged. Then he turned toward Sam. "We should leave. Now."

Sam's eyes whipped toward the window in alarm. The stripes of sun on the tables faded, and the room dimmed more than was naturally possible. The darkness of a storm was upon them, but there was something more. Sam was on his feet suddenly and snapped open one of the blinds between his thumb and forefinger.

The sky was black. Not storm black, but another familiar blackness. The clouds weren't just rolling in. They were writhing, roiling, and moving very quickly. Castiel stood as Sam backed away from the window, knocking into the table. Then all eyes turned toward the door which had blown wide open, despite the fact that the hinges opened outward. The cloud poured in and latched onto the diners, seeming to suffocate them as it forced its way down their throats.

"Hey," a man at the counter shouted, indignant, "there's no smoking in here!" Then he too was overcome.

Within seconds those same eyes turned toward Sam and Castiel. They were black. They were all black.

"We have to leave, Sam," Castiel said again, voice carrying surprisingly well over the rushing wind that still whirled in the small diner.

"No!" Sam yelled. "We can't leave them like this. I can send them away... you can too." Sam pleaded with his eyes, a desperate look. "Let's do this."

"We need to choose our battles, Sam," Castiel said, exasperated. "This is neither the time nor place..." He raised a hand to Sam's face, two fingers out to transport them away.

"I said no!" Sam said angrily, grabbing Castiel's wrist, hard.

A pained look crossed Castiel's face and he jerked his hand away, briefly cradling his arm. The smell of burnt flesh reached Sam's nose, and he looked in horror at the reddened mark mottling the skin below the cuff of the angel's trench coat.

"I'm sorry... I...I didn't mean..." Sam stuttered, then his attention was pulled to the crowd closing in around them. His jaw clenched tightly once, then released. "We can't leave them like this. Please... just help me out here Cas!"

And they were cornered, literally, but at least nothing could come from behind. Sam closed his eyes, hand outstretched, concentrating his power towards exorcising the entire room of demons if possible, he had done it before after all, but soon his eyes flickered open in surprise as he found that he needed to focus on each one separately. He hadn't thought that his power could become 'flabby' as Ruby had noted so long ago... not anymore. Maybe these demons were stronger. He supposed it ultimately didn't matter. Either way he would get the job done.

Then Sam reached his hand out and, once and again squeezed his fingers into a tight fist, each time forcing another black cloud from another mouth, exorcising each demon with his mind as was his gift, his curse. He could feel the demonic minds pulling at him, but they weren't powerful enough to toss him around the room as they could a normal human. His eyes narrowed and he smiled even as hands reached for him, pulled at him.

Castiel had his back. At one point a demon managed to break through and struck Sam's outstretched hand, and then his face, distracting him from his task, but the angel's palm went to its forehead, burning the demon from its vessel. In fact, there was a growing pile of hopefully unconscious bodies surrounding them, showing that Castiel had in fact been very busy.

Sam turned back to the remaining crowd. It was dwindling rapidly. But then, after the tenth, or was it the fifteenth exorcism – he'd lost count - a feeling of vertigo washed over him. He reached out and squeezed again and his vision began to fade at the edges. He swung around to Castiel, confused.

"Why..." Sam began, sinking to his knees in sudden weakness. He reached up and swiped at the wetness dripping from his nose, blood he realized glancing at his fingers.

And then he watched as Castiel, now focused on him and his new position on the floor, was struck in the side of the head by a chair wielding Sara, the flirtatious waitress turned demon. As Castiel fell, blood dripping from his forehead, she turned and leered at Sam, winking in a parody of her previous self. While she approached him, Sam watched blearily as the angel staggered to his feet behind her and, reaching a hand around her head, exorcised her as well. She fell in a heap against the side of a booth.

Only four demons remained now, but one was pulling Sam across the floor by his leg, while the other three faced off against Castiel. Sam floundered weakly, head aching, trying to squeeze the demon pulling at him from his host in a last ditch effort to end the confrontation. Blood poured from his nose, and he knew he had overextended himself. He hadn't thought it was possible. His vision was rapidly fading, coming and going in disconcerting bytes.

As Sam was dragged away, Castiel receded in front of him, pounded by poorly parried blows, but ultimately Sam watched as the hard won battle was concluded and the last of the three demons fell from Castiel's outstretched hand. Then he blinked and the angel was there, exorcising the demon pulling at him as well. The last thing Sam saw was Castiel, bloody and worn, two fingers outstretched, and this time he would be grateful for the quick angelic departure. Sam passed out in the brief instant between the diner and the motel room.

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Eventually he woke, but felt decidedly disoriented, fuzzy. Wherever he was it was lumpy. Sam noted the scratchy, linty bedspread beneath his hands and decided it must be his bed in the Easy Stay Inn. Even though it was quiet, his head still throbbed. He considered letting the darkness take him away once more, but finally, reluctantly pried his sticky, burning eyes open. It was thankfully dim in the room and Sam's head was turned to the wall. He managed to turn, slowly, painfully, head swimming, to the rest of the room. There in the other bed lay another figure, cast in shadows.

"Dean?" Sam asked weakly, mind still foggy and blurry. But Dean wasn't here. Not this time. "Cas?"

Then everything came crashing in. All of Sam's memories, blissfully forgotten in the insensible grayness of unconsciousness, returned in a great crushing blow. The things that had brought him here. What he was. Where he was going. Everything. The bitterness was too much and his eyes started to blur and sting. His heart fell and his stomach clenched and he let the darkness close on him once again. He was happy for it this time.

Waking the next time was much better than before. There was no pain, just a fuzziness that actually felt somewhat pleasant, like a slight beer buzz just before falling asleep. Sam smiled a little letting the feeling settle into his bones before opening his eyes. And when he did, there was Castiel sitting on a chair next to the bed, too close, just staring at him.

"Cas?" Sam asked, and remembering the figure last night in the now empty bed, "Are you okay?" Then he scrubbed his face with one hand and sat up to the side of the bed. The bed next to him appeared unrumpled, like it had never been slept in. And Castiel looked unruffled, as he had before. Sam's head had hurt before, maybe he'd imagined it all.

"Yes Sam. I'm fine."

"I dreamed I..." Sam paused while Castiel continued to look impassively on. "It wasn't a dream, was it? Not all of it." He paused, hands scrubbing again on his face and shook his head as if he were shaking out cobwebs.

"Cas... what happened back there?" he finally asked, fog clearing little by little. "How did they find us? What happened to me?"

"I suspect our itinerary has become somewhat... predictable," Castiel said, eyes glancing away as if searching for his next thought. "As you earlier suggested it might."

Sam just looked at him, suddenly pale and sighed. "So it's over then... It's time to put a stop to all of this, is that what you're saying?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Castiel said after a pause, head shaking slightly. "But you are not invincible Sam. Nor am I. Those were very powerful demons and they were sent for you. There is no need to cut your trip short, but we must be more careful, more watchful. We can't take any chances like the one we took today. We can not chance you being captured by demons."

And here Sam realized the risk Castiel was taking. If he were to fall under demonic control he would become a threat to the Host, he knew that. Castiel was part of the Host and he should be thinking of them, or at least of himself, first. For whatever reason, the angel was willing to take that chance to give him this, his last request. Sam sighed and closed his eyes again.

"Like I said before Cas... what does it matter? You could...probably should end the problem right here, right now and... and nobody would ever know. I wouldn't remember. I wouldn't be anymore. Not with my atoms scattered to the farthest reaches of the universe. Why are you doing this Cas?" And he fixed the angel with a challenging stare.

Sam almost thought that Castiel looked stricken at that. The angel's mouth was a line, eyes wide as he glanced to the heavens, view apparently unobscured by the stuccoed motel ceiling.

"Because you are my friend, Sam," he said. "I thought you already knew this."

Sam sighed heavily. That was a fair enough answer, he supposed.

"Okay, I get it...I'm sorry. I... I just don't know what to do anymore, okay? How to act." He laughed, small and humorless. "I guess that won't be a problem for me much longer, right?"

Castiel didn't answer him and Sam really didn't expect him to anyway.

"So what do we do now?" Sam finally asked, hands falling to his knees with a sharp slap.

"As I said, there is no need to change any plans. We just need to 'be on our toes.'"

The last part, spoken slowly and deliberately, even sounded as if it belonged in quotation marks. Sam's eyebrows went up and he chuckled slightly. Castiel still was no better at incorporating colloquialisms into his language. It was just one of the things that made him who he was.

"Don't ever change Cas," Sam said smiling, dropping a hand on Castiel's wrist, a motion that drew a small choked gasp from the angel, and he pulled his hand away.

Sam had forgotten. He reached a tentative hand to the edge of Castiel's sleeve and carefully pulled it back. The reddened burn was still there, blistering and oozing, sticking to the material in places. He closed his eyes briefly so, just for an instant, he wouldn't have to see what he had done.

"Cas... I'm so sorry." Then Sam's brow pinched in confusion. "Can't you heal it?"

"No... not this. Don't worry. It will heal... given time."

"Let me...I don't know... lemme get something for it."

Sam rose to get some gauze from the first aid kit, then paused.

"Will it happen again if I touch you?" he asked.

"No, Sam." Castiel replied. "I believe it only burned because you were... excited. Your... power... It is diametrically opposed to mine. It could just as easily have happened the other way around."

By 'excited' Sam realized that Castiel meant 'angry' and by 'power', he meant 'Satanic taint.' He doubted that Castiel would have lost control over himself in that way, that the angel ever would have hurt him, but he let it slide. He let Castiel think he had made him feel better and retrieved the gauze from the kit. As he sat down to bandage the angel's wrist, his self recrimination continued. He could see the facts clearly in front of him. He knew he was an abomination. He blinked past stinging eyes.

"Sam," Castiel brought him back to reality. "Please. I told you. It will be okay."

"Depends on your point of view, doesn't it? Just... don't, okay?" Sam said. "I wish..."

"What?"

"I wish a lot of things. I wish I were normal, I wish...I wish I could talk to my brother again," Sam smiled bitterly. "I wish things were different... but, if wishes were horses... right?"

"Then beggars would ride," Castiel finished.

"Well, there's a figure of speech you seem comfortable with," Sam snorted. "An oldie but a goodie."

"I have added many idioms to my vocabulary and understanding," Castiel said. "I am simply unaccustomed to incorporating them into my speech patterns. I actually think I'm getting better at it."

He was pretty sure Castiel was wrong about that, but when all was said and done Sam was willing to humor him. Then Castiel looked at him, thoughtful.

"Would it help if you could see Dean?" Castiel asked hesitantly. "I understand. I miss him too. I'm sure he would..."

"No!" Sam said sharply, suddenly tense. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up again." Then he forced a smile. "Dean's better off where he is. He has a good life now. I want that for him. It's better if he thinks all this is over already." With that Sam seemed to deflate. "Please. Just... he's better off, just leave it at that."

"Okay," Castiel said. "It is your choice."

Sam finished wrapping Castiel's wrist, and the remainder of the night passed in silence. Sam thought about all the the hurt he had caused in a loop like a film reel repeating and repeating and repeating. He thought of his brother, suffering in Hell, his friends...dying. After all, the apocalypse was ultimately his fault, wasn't it? The self-hatred continued, snowballing until it was nearly more than he could bear. As Sam drifted to a fitful, guilt-ridden sleep that night, he found himself welcoming his end more and more.

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