Chapter 11: Riders on the Storm

Warnings: Some language

Well, I just can't seem to stop updating. Especially because I finally found the plot! I promise, it begins in this chapter.

Please enjoy!

Sam was in a daze the next day. He was hypersensitive to everything, and it made it very difficult to concentrate on anything. He was glad they weren't hunting, or even driving anywhere, because he was pretty sure his head would have exploded from overstimulation. He told Castiel as much when Dean finally left to buy lunch.

"And how is that affecting your hallucinations, Sam? Have they been getting worse?" He asked after listening to the hunter's very abbreviated description of the previous night.

"Um, no, actually," Sam replied, worried by the question.

Castiel's expression became confused and contemplative. "But Lucifer has approached you in your dreams, has he not? And borrowed power from your soul to suit his purposes?"

Sam resisted the urge to tell the angel that in both cases, Lucifer had asked his permission before acting. It wasn't relevant though, so he held his tongue. "Yeah, he did."

"Your visions of Hell were connected to Lucifer before, correct? Then it would seem that he has some control over what makes it past the wall in your head." Despite his statement, Cas didn't seem satisfied.

"Well, then he must be holding it back. I'm having fewer hallucinations, not more. The only ones I've had recently were when he was tired," Sam replied.

Castiel tilted his head. "You honestly believe that Lucifer isn't trying to manipulate you," he said with undisguised wonder in his voice.

He couldn't help feeling a little insulted at the remark, but it was what he should have expected. "Yeah, I do. I can actually feel him, in some weird way. It's like when I was his vessel, but less forceful. He could have kept me blocked out then, and I bet he could do it now too, but he hasn't. And he saved all three of us, Cas. So even if you don't want to trust him—and I get why you wouldn't—can't you at least trust me?"

The angel shook his head remorsefully when Sam had finished speaking. "No, I'm afraid I can't."

"So what would it take, then?" He demanded.

"I don't know, Sam."

…

They saw less and less of Cas, though he dropped in every few days to check in with the brothers. The war for heaven was still underway, even though the angels were temporarily distracted by the leviathans. Castiel was apparently busy making preparations for when the battle resumed fully, and it seemed that much of that preparation involved finding Balthazar's stolen weapons, and regaining the trust of his garrison. As Dean had said, there was 'a lot of ass-kissing' in the former deity's future.

Sam didn't have much of an understanding, and Castiel hadn't bothered to explain the details to him, but it seemed that heaven was structured by way of hierarchy. With God and Michael absent, the fight was to replace the highest angel. But the fight wasn't between Cas and Raphael (or whoever was replacing him). Rather, it was between two ideas of how to be most loyal to the will of their Father. Whichever side won became the new word of God, figuratively speaking. That was the way with the angels, and what Cas was looking to fix—they were absolutely obedient to authority. So while Castiel wouldn't need friends once he fought his way to the top, he did need soldiers now. It meant that babysitting the younger Winchester actually wasn't the most pressing thing he had going anymore.

Instead, the task fell to Dean. For his part, he acted fairly normal with Sam most of the time. The exception was right after Sam slept, when he would bluntly interrogate his baby brother on the contents of his dreams. And for the most part, Dean seemed to believe him.

In return, Sam tried to be patient. These were the sort of consequences he should've expected for creeping up to third base with Satan. Despite what Lucifer had said, Sam had decided to balance his family and the angel on his shoulder. If it came down to him choosing, he still firmly stood with family. But as of yet, he hadn't needed to choose a side.

Dean had ordered takeout from a pizza place and had it delivered to the door of their latest motel. Now he sat reading over some print-outs and chewing distractedly on a slice of meat lovers'. "Roman's doing way too well in the polls," he said over a mouthful of food. "Makes me lose faith in this country."

Sam snorted and nodded his agreement. He was searching the weather warnings online, looking for anything that indicated their kind of job opportunity. He'd barely found anything, which was a little unnerving. It seemed to him that if the angels were so distracted, the monsters should have been eager to do…whatever it was they did.

A rustling sound snapped the Winchesters' attention as an angel appeared in the room, next to the table they worked at. It wasn't who they expected.

"Anna?" The brothers said in unison. It didn't make sense; Anna was dead. Killed by an archangel, in fact.

"Hey guys," she said in that usual sad, soft tone of hers.

"Anna, it's good to see—" Sam began, though he let the sentence die as Dean splashed their new guest with holy water and salt.

"Sorry," he said with a smile and shrug. "Precautions."

"I understand," she said levelly.

"So, how are you here?" Dean asked, stepping forward.

"I'm not sure, and I don't remember where I was," the angel replied with a frown. "I do know that when I died, heaven wasn't at war with itself. Guys, Cas needs to win this war."

"Yeah, that's our opinion too," Dean said.

Sam frowned, a thought popping into his head. "Anna, do you know if any other angels were raised? Other than you, Cas, and Lucifer?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" She demanded. "Who raised Lucifer?"

"No one! Well, me, kinda. Death? I'm not really sure," Sam replied hurriedly as the angel glared down at him.

She sighed. "Then it's even more important that Castiel wins. The other side will destroy the angels who have begun to question, and they will restart the apocalypse. If Lucifer has been raised again, then they're one step closer to that goal." She explained. "Has Michael been raised as well?"

The brothers glanced at each other. "We don't know," Dean admitted.

"If he had, you would know," the angel replied. She began to pace, arms crossed over her chest.

"So Cas doesn't know you're back," Sam said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"No, he doesn't," she said regretfully. "It has to stay that way for now. But I'll stop by, and you guys can keep me updated. I need to help him win this fight, and that might mean doing things his supporters won't agree with."

The hunters nodded. "Stay safe, Anna," Dean told her.

"Thanks Dean. I will," she said as she disappeared.

…

They decided to work a case. It made them feel useful, and sort of took their minds off the leviathans and the war in heaven and the sex Sam had almost had. The case was pretty clearly a demon, which had come as a bit of a surprise. The issue was catching the thing. Demons had become pretty skittish, especially since Lucifer was back and the leviathans were active; they were aware that they were very close to the bottom of the food chain.

So finding the demon was an issue.

They couldn't summon it, as they had no idea who it was. They considered calling Crowley to ask him who it was, or to flat-out tell him to keep his pets on a leash. Dean said he'd had quite enough of politely asking demons to do things, and he decided they would hunt the old fashioned way. Sam was happy for anything that would keep them busy.

For a while, the hunt felt like years ago when they'd started working their own jobs. It was straightforward. Uncomplicated. It was just them, their fake IDs, and rock-salt rounds. For some reason they couldn't understand, the demon was collecting humans. The brothers assumed they were being possessed or killed, but when they finally got a lead it was to an old cellar on a farm property, filled with a dozen or so live humans.

They entered the cellar as quietly as possible, flashlights flicking across the faces of the men and women whose hands were bound above their heads. The demon would know where they were—it would smell them. They were being quiet so they could hear it.

"You have a death wish, boys?" The demon asked with a laugh from the shadows. Dean twitched with surprise.

"Of course not," he said. "Your boss put your muzzle on. We're just here for an easy fight."

"Cute. But the angels aren't the only one having a war. We're not…ahh…comfortable with our security under Crowley, and we're not keen to follow his orders." An East Asian man with demon-black eyes stepped into the beam of one of the brother's flashlights, a wicked smile on his face.

"We?" Dean mouthed. Sure enough, three more demons were hiding in the shadows of the dusty cellar. In fact, on had been standing directly behind Sam. Before he knew what was happening, Ruby's knife was snatched away and tossed under a stack of crates.

"Perfect," the younger brother groaned, dodging a punch. He heard Dean fire his sawed-off, and heard one of the bound women shriek with terror from behind her gag.

"Damnit," Dean growled. The demons laughed, circling in the dark like hyenas.

"What's wrong, guys? I thought this was an easy fight?" The first demon said, his voice echoing in the tight space so they couldn't tell where he was.

Sam felt a hot pain stab into his shoulder and rip down his back. The demon jumped away with her curved blade before he could react. Dean shouted out a second later, and pressed a hand to the deep cut that had appeared in his thigh.

The younger brother grunted as the woman returned, her curved blade now wrapped around his throat as she held his hair in a tight fist. "When you get back to Hell, tell Crowley I said 'hi,'" the demon hissed into his ear, tensing her arm to slit his throat.

Sam closed his eyes, gasping, and suddenly felt a very clear calm. His pulse stopped hammering in his ears, and the sickly flood of adrenaline faded away. Then he simply exhaled and killed the demons.

With four flashes of light, they were simply dead, as if Sam were pumped full of demon blood. Only, he wasn't.

The bodies of the possessed dropped to the floor with heavy thuds. After a moment of stunned silence, the brothers dropped to check if they were still alive. They weren't. They began untying the captives next, working in almost unbearable silence.

"We're sorry," Dean said to them "but no one will ever believe you. So…just don't talk about this unless you want to get locked away." Some of the captives thanked him. Some just cried. One had apparently bled out, and they lay her body gently on the crates once Dean retrieved Ruby's knife.

Once they'd left the scene far behind and they could no longer hear the approaching sirens, Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and glared up at him. "What the fuck was that?" He demanded.

"What? I don't know," Sam replied.

"Oh I'm sure you don't," the older Winchester growled.

"That's right, Dean. I don't. Maybe I still had some juice left from Detroit? Because I bet it would take years for all that stuff to wear off."

Dean released Sam's collar, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he spat. "You can't lie to me, Sam. I know you can borrow angel mojo from Lucifer, alright? So you can drop the damn innocent act."

Sam was shocked into silence for a long while. He frowned as his eyes flitted back and forth, contemplating the consequences. "I can what?" He asked carefully.

"Crap."

.

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So much fun, yet again.

Hope you guys have enjoyed reading so far! I think this fic will have 15 chapters in total, and I hope to finish it in the next few weeks. Next update should be pretty fast.