Chapter 11

Sympathy for the Devil

Over the past four years, Dean had started to break, little by little. First it was the death of his father and the knowledge that John Winchester gave up his soul to bring Dean back to life. That promise to save Sam or kill him…

Then Sam had died and Dean had offered up his own soul to save his brother.

When his deal came due, Dean had wanted to be strong, but the only thing on his mind as the hellhounds ripped him apart was that Sam wouldn't have anyone watching his back now.

Returning from Hell and reuniting with Fiona had helped patch things up a little, but Dean still didn't feel right.

But it looked like the hits weren't done coming.

Somehow, Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Ellen found themselves driving on an empty road through Virginia after the blinding light faded. Stopping as they realized that Fiona was missing, they turned back around hand headed in the opposite direction, Bobby relinquishing the wheel to Dean.

As Dean drove, he kept glancing at the others. Ellen was quiet, although she kept shooting concerned looks at the others.

Bobby was also quiet but he seemed to be trying to figure out how they'd ended up so far from the convent.

And Sam seemed on the verge of totally freaking out as he wondered where Fiona was and if she was alright.

As Dean continued down the road, he wondered what would happen now that Lucifer was free.

Beeping was the first thing Fiona heard as she started to wake up.

Well, beeping and frantic voices.

Her gut felt like she'd been stabbed, and… She had been stabbed. She remembered getting control from Lilith and plunging the knife into her own gut.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?" A doctor asked. "I need you to squeeze my fingers."

Fiona managed to do so and a moment later, she heard another nurse asking, "Can you feel this?"

"Feel what?" Fiona murmured, drifting back into unconsciousness.

The last thing she heard was, "She's crashing! We need to move her now!"

Finding Fiona had been a problem. It was as if suddenly, the surrounding hospitals were flooded with Jane Does with short brown hair, blue-green eyes, and military tattoos.

Then Sam had had the idea to add Fiona's 'Watership Down' tattoo to the BOLO while Dean called Abby over at NCIS.

It was at least another three hours before Abby called back, giving Fiona's location which happened to be Portsmouth Naval Hospital. "It's pretty tight there, so you might have a problem getting into trauma to see Fi," Abby warned.

Sam looked at Bobby, Dean, and Ellen, wondering who would be best to see Fiona. On his cell phone, he said to Abby, "Thanks for the heads-up." After hanging up, he looked at the others. "Portsmouth Naval Hospital."

"Okay," Bobby said, thoughtfully. "Dean, you drop Ellen and me off at the hospital then go find a motel. We'll meet up later, alright?"

Dean could tell Sam wanted to go with Bobby but this wasn't a good time. They'd go later after things were settled down.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

After dropping off Bobby and Ellen, Dean drove to the nearest motel and while Sam went to do… something, Dean managed to get two adjoining rooms. He laid down salt lines and drew Devil's Traps just inside the rooms before sitting down on one of the beds in the room where he'd dumped his bag and Sam's.

Going through his brother's belongings wasn't something Dean was comfortable with, but there were a few things he needed to know.

There were Sam's usual clothes—boxers, socks, jeans, and shirts—and the rumpled suit he wore for playing federal agent.

At the bottom was Sam's shaving kit and some other odds and ends—his epi-pens, a bottle of Quik-Dissolve Benadryl tablets, pain killers… a few paperback books and a couple DVDs that looked like they'd been pilfered from a library sale. And two silver flasks.

Dean had never really seen Sam drink from either and he picked them both up. One seemed to be empty, the other was nearly full. Dean set the full flask down and unscrewed the cap of the empty one, taking a whiff and recoiling when he caught the sharp, metallic smell of blood.

He was almost afraid of what was in the other flask, but thankfully it was nothing more than scotch. But Dean hesitated before replacing the cap and took another whiff. It smelled way better than the usual cheap stuff and Dean tentatively took a sip, his eyes widening in surprise. This was really good stuff.

He capped the scotch flask and tossed it back into Sam's bag before taking the other flask to the bathroom and washing it out, making sure to use salt and holy water, just in case.

"Playtime's over, Dean."

Dean jumped when he heard Zachariah's voice and even though the angel was invulnerable to any weapons Dean had, it didn't stop him from grabbing his gun and firing a couple rounds into the angel on principal.

"Okay, I can see that you're upset," Zachariah said, calmly. "But we don't have time for your temper tantrums right now. 'Cause like it or not, it's apocalypse now and we're all on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean asked, not lowering his gun.

"You want to kill the devil, we want you to kill the devil," the angel went on, a smug smile on his face. "It's… synergy."

But Dean had had enough and even though he lowered his gun, he glared at Zachariah. "And you think I'm just going to trust you?" He said with equal parts contempt and disbelief. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly!"

"This isn't a game, son," Zachariah said, coldly. "Things are about to get far worse than you can imagine and if we don't strike now, Lucifer will find his vessel and when he does, we're talking four horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean. But you need our help."

Dean wasn't about to accept help from the angels that had caused so much trouble. Not now, and—unless they were willing to go all the way back to before he first went for Sam at Stanford—never again. Standing his ground, he looked Zachariah straight in the eye and said, "You listen to me, you two-faced douche." A small part of Dean took pleasure in the way the dickhead angel seemed to be almost reconsidering his threats. His bravado increasing, Dean added, "After what you did? I don't want jacksquat from you!"

"You listen to me, boy!" Zachariah snapped angrily. But he was slightly unnerved by the way the young hunter was refusing to back down, as though he knew something no one else did. "You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" He paused as he looked down and noticed the blood dripping from Dean's left hand. "You're bleeding," he said, slowly, a look of dawning comprehension in his eyes.

"Oh yeah," Dean replied, as if he suddenly remembered, a smug smile on his face. "A little insurance policy in case one of you dicks showed up." He turned and slid open the bathroom door, exposing the sigil painted in blood on the side.

Realizing what was going on, Zachariah yelled, "No!" just as Dean slammed his hand against the middle of the symbol, making the angel disappear.

"Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch," Dean muttered before going back into the bathroom to clean up and rebandage the cut on his hand.

Ellen Harvelle believed that there were two ways to be tough as nails and still have the patience of a saint.

One: Work in the restaurant business.

Two: Become a parent.

Just as Sam's friend, Abby Scuito had predicted, the male nurse at the front desk wouldn't let Ellen or Bobby past the doors.

But Ellen wasn't going to back down. Putting both hands flat on the counter and staring down the young man, she said, flatly, "Now listen up, son. I ain't asking to go in there—I'm telling you. Right now the only family Fiona Brendon has is me and him." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating Bobby. "Now let us in the damn doors."

The nurse's stern look gave way to a mischievous smile and without another word, he buzzed the two hunters in, waiting until they were through the doors before pulling out a candy bar and unwrapping it.

When Sam got back, tossing Dean a newly made hex bag, he was surprised when his brother tossed an empty silver flask back at him.

"Something you want to tell me, Sam?" Dean asked, trying not go with his first instinct and beat his brother down.

Sam tossed the empty flask on the bed and sighed before sitting down on the lumpy mattress. "I started it when Ruby would vanish for days at a time. Found a demon, killed him… kept the flask for when it got too bad."

Dean rubbed his face with one hand and sighed, not wanting to think of the details. "So how are you feeling, by the way?" he asked, shifting the subject momentarily.

"I'm good," Sam insisted, not quite believing it. "No shakes, no fever. I mean, detoxing was no picnic, but… I feel better."

"Good," Dean replied, vaguely.

Sam tried to think of how to say what he wanted to and finally just went with, "Thanks, Dean."

"For what?" Dean replied, frowning.

"For locking me in the panic room," Sam explained. "I mean, who knows what might have happened if you hadn't."

"Don't mention it, Sam," Dean said, quickly. Seeing that Sam was going to press the issue, he snapped, "I mean it."

"Okay," Sam replied, moodily. After a while, he asked, "Think Bobby and Ellen know anything about Fi yet?"

But before Dean could reply, there was a hesitant knock at the door and when he went to answer it, he was surprised to find a young blonde woman standing there, wide-eyed. "Can I help you?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Right," the girl said, suddenly remembering herself. "Uh, my sister, Becky—she's a super-huge fan of the 'Supernatural books—she would just die if she knew I was really talking to Dean Winchester!" Frowning, she amended, "Well, actually, Becky is a SamGirl and a Slash fan. I'm a Feaner myself, although I do understand Si—"

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" Dean said, his mind spinning. Stepping aside to let the girl into the room, he said, "Okay, start with your name."

"Willow Rosen," the girl said, entering the room and looking around, noting the weapons lying around. "Becky got a video message from Carver Edland, but she was in the bathroom so I took it."

"What was the message?" Sam asked, curious.

"The Michael Sword is on Earth, the angels lost it. It can be found in a castle on a hill made of 42 dogs," Willow rattled off. "Kinda cryptic if you ask me."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean muttered, rubbing his brow.

"Oh, by the way?" Willow asked ash she headed for the door. "How's Fiona doing? I mean getting stabbed can't be fun."

It took a moment for the Winchesters to realize what was going on but before they could react, the teenager knocked both of them across the room.

Sam groaned as he looked up at Willow as she approached them. "It was supposed to be you, Sam," she said, sounding disappointed. "You were the one who was supposed to set Lucifer free."

"Ruby," Sam groaned.

"That's right, honey," Ruby said with a smile as she broke the Devil's Trap by the door, allowing three other demons to enter, two of whom were holding a struggling Bobby. "Now, we found your friend here when we went to finish with Fiona."

One of the other demons, a girl with black hair, raised a hand and flung the brothers against a wall before she gave them a smile. "Hey, boys. Long time, no see."

"Meg?" Dean groaned. "Great. Now that's two hell-bitches we have to kill."

"Oh, I don't think so," Meg replied with a sadistic look. "You're going to be way too distracted to deal with us," she added as she and Ruby each put an arm around the other's shoulders.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Dean couldn't help fantasizing about himself with the two ladies—even if they were possessed.

But then Ruby pulled away from Meg and pulled out a gun and aimed it at Bobby, firing one shot into both of the man's knees.

Once the Winchesters were released, they ignored the other demons who quickly smoked out, instead grabbing Bobby and hauling him up and out of the hotel room.

After Bill had died, Ellen had sworn that she would never get romantically involved with a hunter again. But then Bobby Singer had managed to find a place in her heart, and she found someone who needed the comfort of a good woman.

But she worried about Bobby on a regular basis. Hell, she also worried about the Winchesters, Fiona, and especially her daughter, Jo.

For the past year or so, Jo had been working with a crew of hunters and while Ellen was constantly scared to death that something would happen to her only child, she had to admit that her little girl was tougher than some hunters.

When Bobby had said that he was stepping out of the hospital to try and call Sam and Dean for an update, Ellen figured he'd be back in a few minutes. Sitting in the surgical waiting room, waiting for an update on Fiona's condition, Ellen started to get nervous. Leaving a message with the nearest nurse to find her if there was any news on Fiona, she headed downstairs. Just as she went outside to see if Bobby was around somewhere, Ellen saw the Impala roar up to the curb, screeching to a stop.

Sam and Dean both helped to haul a semi-conscious Bobby out of the backseat and they ignored Ellen as the boys hurried their surrogate father into the emergency room.

The trauma unit was a bustle of activity as doctors and nurses helped get the grizzled old hunter onto a gurney before whisking him away to assess the injuries to his legs.

"What happened?" Ellen asked, looking at the two boys.

"Demons ambushed us at the motel," Sam replied. "Threw Dean and me around before shooting Bobby in both knees."

Ellen's eyes widened at that and she prayed that the doctors could somehow work a miracle. "What were the demons after?"

"The Michael Sword?" Dean replied with a confused tone. "Apparently it's at a castle on a hill of 42 dogs, or something."

"Wait, what was the name of the storage place in New York?" Sam asked, suddenly thinking.

"Castle Storage," Dean said, quickly. Looking to Ellen, he opened his mouth to ask a question but she was already nodding.

"Any news on either of them, you're my first call," Ellen promised, shouting a hasty 'be careful' to the Winchesters' retreating backs.

The trip to New York took almost no time at all thanks to Dean's break-neck speeds. Once at the storage facility, Sam and Dean grabbed guns and headed into the building, eyes out for anyone who might be looking to jump them.

As Sam opened the unit that had belonged to their father, he and Dean entered cautiously, shotguns aimed as they noticed the dead demons lying on the floor of the room.

"I see you told the demons where the Sword is," Zachariah said, calmly.

"Oh, thank God," Dean said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "The angels are here."

"And to think," Zachariah went on, as he walked towards the two hunters, talking as though he hadn't heard anything Dean had said. "They could have grabbed it any time they wanted." Closing the storage unit door, he turned to Dean as he said, "Right in front of them."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy in Chuck's head," the angel explained with a careless shrug. "But it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael Sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now, when you hand-delivered it to us," he added with his usual smug smile.

"We don't have anything," Dean said, feeling more confused by the minute.

Zachariah somehow managed to avoid rolling his eyes as he wondered how Sam and Dean Winchester had managed to live this long. "It's you, chucklehead," he directed at Dean with an obvious tone of voice. "You're the Michael Sword."

"What do you mean, I'm the Sword?" Dean asked, still not catching on.

"You're Michael's weapon," Zachariah explained. "Or, rather his receptacle."

"I'm a vessel?" Dean said, making sure he was hearing this properly.

"You're the vessel," the angel, specified. "Michael's vessel."

"Why me?" Dean wanted to know. Of all the people in the world, why did everything have to happen to him?

"Because you're chosen," Zachariah replied, calmly. "It's a great honor, Dean."

"Oh, yeah," Dean snapped, sarcastically. "Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks."

But Zachariah had had enough of dealing with the bravado of Dean Winchester. He was an angel! He didn't have to put up with this, and certainly not from this piss-poor excuse for a human. "Joking. Always joking." Raising his hand and pointing it like a gun, he added, "No more jokes." Pointing his finger at Sam's lower body, he said, "Bang."

There was a sickening crack and Sam cried out as he fell to the ground, both legs feeling as though someone had hit them with sledgehammers.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, vowing to end Zachariah if it was the last thing he did.

"Keep mouthing off and I'll break more than his legs," Zachariah promised. "Maybe I'll snap your little brother's spine next."

Dean stiffened, every fiber of self-preservation in his body the only thing keeping him from trying to beat the crap out of the douchebag angel.

"I am completely and utterly done screwing around," Zachariah said, calmly. "War has begun and we don't have our general. That's bad. Now Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. Understand me?"

On the floor, Sam tried to breathe through the pain as he watched his brother squaring off against the angel. Part of him wanted to tell Dean to just give in—if only to stop Lucifer once and for all. But as Dean talked about millions of lives lost, if not more, Sam knew that the battle would end bloody for everyone.

As Dean listened to the possible fate of the world, he wasn't aware of Sam watching him, wondering what would happen. "There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me," Dean said, the pieces falling into place. "You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin."

"Unfortunately, yes," Zachariah admitted begrudgingly. He didn't want to present that information. Humans were so much easier to manipulate when they thought there was no choice. If Dean had a choice, there was no doubt which option he'd choose.

"The answer's no," Dean said, firmly.

Considering the old vinegar/honey adage, Zachariah thought for a moment before saying, "How about this? "Your friends—Bobby Singer and Fiona Brendon—we know they're gravely injured. Say 'yes' and we'll heal them. Say 'no', Fiona will never walk again, and Bobby might end up losing one if not both of his legs."

The words hit Dean like a ton of bricks and for a moment, he thought about the offer. Fiona would be fine and good as new. Bobby would be healed from the gunshot wounds to his knees… But would they forgive him from making the deal?

Sam could see the conflict in his brother's eyes and he wanted so very much to tell Dean to take the offer. Sure, the angels were world-class dicks, but family had always counted above all else.

"No," Dean said, resolutely, even though it killed him to say it. He knew what he was condemning Fiona and Bobby to, but it was his choice.

"Then how about we heal you?" Zachariah offered, thinking of what would be truly painful. "From… stage 4 stomach cancer?"

Dean felt like something was shredding him from the inside out. Dropping to his knees, he started coughing up blood and even through the thick fog of pain, he growled, "No."

"Then let's get really creative," the angel went on, suddenly seeming almost amused. "Let's see how Sam does without his lungs."

The strangled gasp that Sam let out was 100 times worse than any sound Dean had ever heard before and he wished he had the strength and means to kill the angel responsible. "Just kill us," he managed to croak out.

But the look on Zachariah's face was one of puzzlement. "Kill you? But I'm just getting started."

"Let them go," a gravelly voice said, quickly.

Looking up, Dean was surprised to see Castiel standing there. "Cas? What're you…?" But he couldn't finish the question as the pain started going into his chest. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and looking over at Sam, Dean noticed with horror that Sam was now lying perfectly still. 'Oh, dear God, no!'

"Put these boys back together and go," Castiel ordered, firmly. "I won't ask twice."

Zachariah wasn't about to surrender, but he knew when to declare a momentary retreat. He'd be back, and next time, he wouldn't go without back-up. He winged out after undoing the damage to Sam and Dean, vowing that the next time he saw the Winchesters, he would make them pay.

Fiona woke up to the sound of beeping and someone talking. She blinked heavily as her vision focused and she saw a man standing by the bed. He was a little shorter than Dean and he had messy brown hair and brown eyes. "Who the hell are you?" Fi muttered, groaning at the pain in her lower back and stomach.

"Friend of Sam and Dean's," the man said with a smile. He nodded at the door as he said, "You've got visitors."

Fiona raised her head a few inches and saw Ellen, Dean, and Sam. Laying her head back, she muttered, "Not yet."

The Trickster nodded, using his own special powers to change his appearance before returning Fiona to a restful slumber. Going outside, he looked at the Winchesters and Ellen Harvelle. "She's still pretty out of it," he reported. "She'll probably be asleep for another couple hours."

"Will she be okay, doc?" Dean asked, hopefully, as he thought of Zachariah's words back at the storage facility.

The words 'I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV' popped up in the Trickster's mind, but he had the added benefit of having actually looked at Fiona's medical chart. "Internal injuries will heal, but the knife blade nicked her spinal cord. We won't know about permanent damage until she's more conscious."

"Best guess?" Ellen asked, crossing her arms.

"There's a significant chance of long-term paralysis," The Trickster replied, sadly, wishing he could just quick patch Fiona up. Sadly, healing wasn't really covered in his current bag of tricks.

When the doctor left, Dean rubbed his face with one hand as he looked through the window into Fiona's room. Bobby had come out of surgery only moments before, but he was still in Recovery. The surgeons had managed to save both his legs, but the older hunter still had a long road ahead. At least 2 months of recovery followed by rigorous physical therapy.

And that would be a cakewalk compared to what awaited Fiona.

Pacing for a moment, Dean stopped, pulled back a fist but before he could punch the brick wall, he found Sam in his way. Not bothering to stop, Dean his brother as hard as he could in the face, busting his lip.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, wincing as he tasted blood.

"No, I don't feel better, Sam," Dean snapped, coolly. Walking down the hallway, he needed some air. His stomach was still messed up from Zachariah's little episode earlier and his ribs still ached from where Castiel had branded him with the Enochian sigil.

He wanted to be angry with Sam for getting involved with Ruby. With Fiona for not telling him about Adam…

But the only person he could really be angry with was himself.

Dean had broken the first seal. It didn't matter that the angels had allowed the others to break, or that Fiona had broken the final one. He, Dean Winchester, had started the apocalypse.

How in the world was he supposed to save everyone he cared about?

Taking a deep breath and rubbing his face with one hand, Dean knew he had to keep his game face on. Bobby, Fi, and Sam needed him to be strong and focused. Strengthening his resolve, he went back to find Ellen and Sam.

The sounds of overlapping screaming and bitching could be heard up and down the hallway of the hospital.

"Unlikely to walk again? Why you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed! I'll use my game leg to kick your friggin ass!"

"What the Hell do you mean I'm going to be stuck in this hospital for two months?"

"Soon as I get out of this bed and into a wheelchair, I'm gonna run your ass down!"

"What the hell did you do with my hat?"

The doctors bustled out of the room, eager to be away from two of the worst patients they'd ever had.

Inside, Sam, Dean, and Ellen stood next to the window, smiling in amusement at Fiona and Bobby.

It had been a few days since they had both been hurt and Bobby was as cantankerous as ever and Fiona was just as bad, if not worse.

Of course, putting Bobby and Fiona in the same room hadn't helped. The two had started bitching up a storm since first waking up and they hadn't stopped since.

"So what's the game plan?" Fiona asked, sitting up a bit more ignoring the pain in her stomach. "What do we do now?"

"Well... we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess," Bobby replied with a resigned sigh. "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're boned."

"What if we win?" Dean asked. Seeing the looks from the others, he kept going. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they wanna fight a war? They can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the Devil, hell we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."

Bobby looked a bit doubtful at that, especially when he looked at the immobilizing braces on his knees and at Fiona. "And how're we supposed to do all this, genius?" he asked, curiously.

"I got no idea," Dean admitted, trying to sound as positive and determined as he could, even if he didn't really feel any of it. "But what I do have is a GED, and a 'give 'em hell' attitude. And I'll figure it out."

Fiona looked from Dean to Sam who gave her a 'you know Dean' shrug. But finally she gave the brothers a smile. "Okay. Then you boys better get on it. Soon as they let me out of here, I'll saddle up with ya again."

"You sure?" Dean asked, looking at her hesitantly.

"Hey, I'm not the first paralyzed Marine, and I'm not going to be the last," Fiona replied, confidently. "I'm in this, Dean. Just try to stop me."

"Well, in that case," Ellen said, heading for the door. "I'm going to meet up with Jo. We'll call you when we got something."

"Tell her we said 'hey'," Dean replied, giving Ellen a nod.

"You got it," Ellen promised.

When Sam and Dean left as well, Fiona let out a long sigh and finally let go of the stubborn look she'd been wearing, replacing it with one of weariness. She hurt… a lot.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, also letting go of the toughness he'd been showing for Sam and Dean.

"No, Bobby," Fi sighed. "I can't do this. I can't walk… How the hell am I going to help the boys kill Lucifer?"

"Yeah," Bobby admitted, thinking of his own condition. After a moment, though, he gave Fiona a stern look. "You know we can't let our guard down with them, right?"

"Right," Fiona muttered, thinking of the look of weariness in Dean's eyes.

xxxx

Once outside the hospital, Sam looked over at Dean as they headed for the Impala. "You know, I was thinking, Dean," he said after a while. "Maybe we could go after the Colt."

"Why?" Dean asked, not sure why his brother was bringing it up. "What difference would that make?"

"Maybe we could use it on Lucifer," Sam replied, going with the thought. "I mean, you said back there-"

"I just said a bunch of crap for Fiona and Bobby's benefit," Dean cut in. "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight to the last man, but let's at least be honest. We don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that." He hated making the confession and he could see in Sam's eyes that he didn't understand why the idea was getting shot down. "Look, Fi and Bobby? This isn't like a broken arm or a couple busted ribs, okay? They're down for the count. All they're hanging onto right now is the idea that we can pull this off."

Sam nodded, understanding what Dean was saying. They both had to put on a good show, whether they meant it or not. And as they both got into the car, they wondered whose walls would crack first.