Shortcut to Bable

He'd thought he'd found the way to make Jack better. If he needed grace to be immortal, and Lucifer's grace made him what he is, then all Sam would need to do is harvest Lucifer's grace. The trickiest part was that Lucifer was dead, or so he thought. But then he remembered that he had been the house for Lucifer once. And in that knowledge, Lucifer was still sewn into the fabric of his whole being. The hallucination in that bathroom had opened an Escape Room from his greatest tragedy. Sam needed a spell.

"What are you doing?" The early morning light peered through the library. Books had strewn the desks, each playing an alphabet game of souls as they danced in the wind from a stray window. Dean stood there in his bathrobe wreathed in an aura of hot water, Irish Spring and concern. Sam smiled at him, and Dean saw the blood in the smile and froze.

"I'm saving Jack. But it isn't the safest plan. But it's an escape room a failsafe that must have been left in me when I_He always said that it would end when I couldn't take it anymore-aha!" Sam snapped his fingers. Dean looked over his shoulder to see where Castiel might be. Then he stretched a hand out.

"Sammy….Whatever is happening inside your head, let me help." Dean gulped. Sam looked up at him and was babbling suddenly in a language Dean didn't understand. Dean felt the breath leave his body. Sam held up a penknife, smiling like he was explaining his favorite breakfast choice.

"Sam?" Dean took his brother by his wrists to find his arms were lacerated deliberately. Sam went on talking, but the words made no sense. Then, he blinked, realizing that Dean's panic was intensifying. He couldn't understand him!

"S-sorry...I do that every now and then when I'm really lost in thought." Sam turned away, leaving blood on Dean's hands.

"Sorry? What the heck were you even gibbering at me? Why have you hacked your arms up like that?! Sam! Hurting yourself isn't going to make Jack better. What?" Dean stepped closer. Sam put several little jars of Rowena style spices in a bowl and dripped his blood on it.

"Don't you see? It will! Jack needs his biological Dad's grace and I have some of it. Granted it's still engraved on my DNA in the form of burn torture, but if I can extract it from my blood-then I can heal him with it! All I need is…"Sam started to babble in the language again. Dean felt his face and body crumbling like trampled crackers at the thought of this.

"Sam, what the hell? Look, let's find a better way to do this!" Dean reached out shaking hands. Just then, Cas came in from outside carrying a small bag of fever reducer and vegetables he'd bought in town thinking they'd make Jack better. He dropped his grocery bag and looked up when he heard Sam talking.

Sam looked up and waved at him, still speaking the weird language. Cas stuttered and answered, to Dean's amazement, in the same.

"What-How do you understand this crap?!" Dean put his hands in his hair.

"Because he's speaking my native language?" Cas shook his head.

"Enochian?!" Dean turned to Sam whose back was turned. He wasn't jabbering anymore but he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had been as he siphoned through six more blood extraction ritual books.

How do you know this language? Cas called out to Sam. Dean looked at Cas with growing fears.

What? What do you mean? Sam said in the same.

Well, you're speaking Old High Enochian-it's like Queen's English to angels. Where on earth did you get so fluent in it-it's almost a dead language in heaven?! Cas smiled, actually excited to be conversing in his own language again, never mind that it was a slightly different and harder dialect of it.

Sam blinked and looked at his bloody arms.

I was? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear it! I'm trying to strip the part of my blood that is still connected to Lucifer from me. He spoke it to me in the Cage. Drilled it into me when he'd play word games with my head. Pain has one good thing going for it. It's a great teacher. Sam smiled.

"Okay, can you two English for five seconds!" Dean had tripped over the table he'd suddenly leaned on and was scrambling to tie his robe that he'd torn open falling. Cas looked over his shoulder quickly and stepped in front of him to hide him from the eyes of any of the strangers in the house. Dean was shaking and had a hard time tying the robe back. So, Sam reached over and did it for him, oblivious to the blood running to his fingers and sliding down the robe's sash.

"S-sorry, sorry Dean…"Sam opened his mouth to explain, but Enochian came out again. He pressed his palm to his lips and then, his face turned the color of beet juice with embarrassment.

"Sorry for what? Why can't you speak English? Sam, whatever you're doing with the Voodoo, please stop…"Dean shook his head, having turned green around the mouth. Cas lifted Dean by the shoulders.

"It's alright. I'll help him. I've seen this happen once before." Cas smiled. Dean's hands floundered at Cas' wrists.

"Why...Why is he speaking Enochian? Is it the spell or can he really? I didn't know that he even knew how if he does? Why does he?!" Dean looked at Sam who had turned away, swishing the spell in the bowl.

"He, well, he learned in the Cage. Lucifer would only speak to him in Enochian after he forced him to learn it, evidently. It's okay. We angels sometimes lose our English skills when we tap into the grace directly. I know how to help his mind snapback." Cas smiled. Dean was shaking now. He looked at Sam.

"Well, you can pretty much still understand English. Brat! Always getting in trouble. I'm warning you, if you hurt yourself over there I will personally deliver a kick straight up your Down Under!" Dean shook his finger at Sam who turned to him, eyebrows raised in amusement. He wisely remained silent. Dean gasped in annoyance and stormed from the room to go and dress himself.

Sam looked up apologetically.

I upset him pretty easily, don't I? Sam sighed watching his brother storm off.

There's no reason to apologize. It's just that the spell you are doing isn't safe, exactly. What Lucifer left carved in you was created out of pain from your soul. There's no pure way to extract it. Even if we try, it will kill you. Neither of those things will help Jack. Cas took Sam's shoulder. Sam's hands were shaking now. Cas smiled and drew a deep breath.

I'd rarely say this openly because to humans it seems strange to say. But we're using my language now so there's no one to know otherwise but you. I love you, Sam. I love you and Dean as more than I have words-even natively-to explain. Please don't do something that would hurt yourself. It will only make the problem we already have worse in the end and then you'll have hurt for nothing. Cas felt wonder overtake him seeing the understanding in Sam's eyes. Hearing this language again after God had left made Cas almost want to cry from happiness. The fact that Sam had learned it through pain made Cas want to cry for a completely different reason. But laughter took the shortcut through him, keeping him on his feet as the innocence in Sam's young eyes evened his spirit out and made the joy center front to the angel's broken heart.

Cas, I think I may have hurt myself though. My arms are cut as deep as I could do safely to get as much blood as possible, but that's not so bad. It's just...My head feels fuzzy and I can't really remember how to say my own name as it was given to me. That's scary kinda...I mean, what if I can't talk to Dean again?! Sam's eyes went wide. Cas laughed.

If that happened, we'd just teach him our language. To talk to you, he'd learn, believe it. But don't worry. This is sort of like being waterlogged except with magic. Let me heal you and then let's not do this spell. Cas put his hand to Sam's forehead. Sam nodded and his eyes went wide as he felt Cas' healing go through him.

"Well? How do you feel?" Cas tilted his head.

"Like you've got some explaining to do?" Dean stormed back into the room, still pulling a T-shirt over his head. Sam smiled at him.

"Like Cas stopped me from walking off a cliff maybe?" Sam smiled at Cas and then drew a long- suffering breath. Dean grabbed him by the back collar of his shirt and drug him to the garage, yelling at him the entire way.

Cas cleaned up the remnants of the spell, shivering as Sam's blood spoke to him with the cries of his tortured spirit. And when he punched a hole straight through the table and the floor, he passed it off later as an accident with a stack of books.