Supernatural

"Family Ties"

Chapter 3

Sam struggled to formulate words. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was silence. An wide smile curved across Dean's face. His teeth shown bright like the Cheshire Cat.

"Sammy," he spoke.

"Dean. You're alive? But you're a…demon?"

"In the flesh and blood," he wiped imaginary dust from his shoulder, as if proud of what he'd become.

"But I don't understand," Sam choked, and he took a step toward Dean.

Dean quickly raised the First Blade and pointed it directly at Sam's chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, Sam, I'm not that guy anymore. I'm this one." He pointed to his own chest with the First Blade. "I became what was inside me. The true me. Now I get to do all that stuff you held me back from doing. It feels glorious. I learned to embrace all that anger and hatred, and I made it thrive. All those tasty souls I took from this town have only made me hungrier."

Sam's chest tightened with grief. His brother stood before him, aiming a weapon at him, and all Sam could do was stare at him. The floor felt as if it were slowing cementing over his feet, to encase him where he stood.

Crowley's footsteps echoed across the walls as he paced inside the Devil's Trap. "Oh Moose, cat got your tongue? This is the new and improved Dean Winchester. You can address him as the Prince of Hell if you'd like."

Sam refused to acknowledge Crowley and stared intently at Dean. Muscles in his throat relaxed, and the words bubbled up.

"Dean. Why? How could you do this? This isn't you."

Anger swam around in Sam's head. He wasn't even sure who he was angry at, but he wanted to rip the roof off of the house. Finding his footing again, he took another step toward Dean, hands raised in a non-threatening manner.

Dean laughed and shook his head, "You're just like me; stubborn and bullheaded. It's not so bad, Sammy. I've never felt more alive. In fact, I don't even know why I fought it this long. I can help you, you know. Become this. Remember all that blood you devoured? It's ten times better like this. Let me help you," Dean beckoned him closer with his free hand.

In the corner of Sam's eye, he saw Castiel appear next to him. Dean's stare shot in his direction.

"Castiel. You're not looking too good nowadays," Dean smiled. "That grace of yours is looking pretty bleak."

Ignoring Dean, Castiel placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, "Sam, we can't do this here. Not now."

Dean stepped forward and swung the blade at Sam, but Castiel and Sam popped out of existence.

Before Sam could react to Dean's attack, he discovered he was outside of the house standing next to the Impala. Castiel stood next to him, pale white in the face.

"Cas, it was Dean. He's alive."

"That's not alive, Sam. He's something far worse than death now. Come on, we have to get going. We're not strong enough to take them on by ourselves."

"But, Cas –" Sam tried to interject.

"No, Sam. Do not argue with me. Do you want to end up like him?" Castiel yelled.

Sam had never seen Castiel act like this. For the most part, Castiel was void of most emotions. He stared, pleadingly, at Sam. Without another word, Sam got into the Impala, and they drove back to the Men of Letter's bunker.

The car ride back was silent. Castiel stared out his window in deep thought. Sam had never seen him this worried, this distressed. The world was about to get a dose of evil far worse than anything it'd ever seen before. If Dean managed to wipe out hundreds of people in just 2 days, he didn't want to imagine the carnage after a month, a year, a decade. Even worse, he had no idea how to stop Dean. All Sam could feel was helplessness.

When they got back to the bunker, they both sat solemnly at the table in the research room. Sam didn't know what to say, and figured it was best to wait on Castiel to speak. He could tell Castiel was in deep thought, going over ideas and scenarios. The silence was choking Sam. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Cas, why didn't you react when you saw Dean? It's almost like you already knew."

After what seemed like an eternity, Castiel spoke, "When you were setting up that house to summon Crowley, I went back to heaven to see if anything was running across angel airwaves about what happened in Armstrong. Come to find out, some angels captured a demon that was all too happy to talk. He was blabbering about a new guy in hell. Somebody Crowley was referring to as his protégé, the new prince of hell. He talked about how he had a blade made of teeth and bone, and he didn't have to say the guy's name. I knew it was Dean."

"But I don't understand, Cas. How's Dean a demon now?" Sam was extremely frustrated. He was tired of not having answers and falling into more black holes.

"I think it has something to do with the Mark of Cain. If you die with it, you become a demon, succumbing to all that murderous rage. Crowley must've have known. I believe he came here and gave Dean the First Blade. Sam, this is bad. I don't want to believe it, but I don't think Dean can be killed. He's stronger than a Knight of Hell. Can only be killed with the First Blade…which would mean he would have to kill himself since the blade only works with the Mark of Cain." Castiel leaned back in his chair, looking defeated.

"Cas, there has to be something. We didn't go through all of that crap with Metatron to get to something worse. Did the demon tell you anything else?"

"Yes. He told me they might have found your sister."

"What? Where?" Sam pleaded, hope swelling in his chest.

"Three hours from here in Wichita. That was the last place she was seen, but they think she's still there. If that's true, Sam, she's in trouble."

Sam shot up from his chair, "Well, let's go. Longer we wait, the less of a chance of us finding her before they do."

"Hold on, Sam." Castiel raised his hand to stop him. "We don't know anything about her. We don't know what she looks like, what her name is, or even whereabout in Wichita. It's not exactly a small town."

Sam grabbed his bag that sat at the other end of the table. He furiously packed it with provisions as Castiel kept talking.

"We'll have to draw her out, but she'll more vulnerable then."

"How do we do that?" Sam asked.

"We need to keep our eyes and ears open about anything strange going on. Listen in for miraculous healings or maybe resurrections. She's proven that she likes to help people, so we need to create a situation to draw her out."

Sam finished packing and threw the bag over his shoulder, "What did you have in mind?"

"We need to kill you," Castiel said nonchalantly.

"Come again?" Sam said bewilderedly.

"Sam, she likes to help people. What better person to help than her own flesh and blood. We narrow down her position and place a scenario in front of her that she can't resist."

"Ok," Sam hesitated, thinking hard about how to facilitate the craziness going on his head, "but what if she doesn't resurrect me. What if she doesn't even show up?"

"Then I'll heal you," Cas said flatly.

"Cas, it's no secret your grace is drying up. How do you know you won't fail?"

"I have enough left, but this may be a one-time deal, Sam. We have to be sure she'll see you. Get in contact with some local hunters there to see if they've heard anything strange going on. We need ears to the ground."

Sam wasn't too fond of this plan, sacrificing his own life for a hunch…a maybe. They had no other choices.

"You're sure this is the only way, Cas? I don't particularly like the thought of being bait. Maybe we can reach out to her, ask around?"

"Can't take that chance. We'll spook her. Remember, Sam, this girl has made a living at running. She's a ghost. She disappears in the shadows and blends in. It's obvious that she knows she's being hunted, so she won't make herself vulnerable just because we asked nicely."

He had a point. Sam had spent most of his life doing the hunting…not being the hunted. He couldn't imagine all of the strife having to survive day after day, all alone. He'd always had Dean.

"Ok, well, let's get going so I can get to dying."

The trip to Wichita seemed endless. Castiel opted not to ride with him, so that left Sam alone to his thoughts. He tried to lay out every scenario he could think of that wouldn't involve his demise. Even though Castiel said his grace was sufficient, Sam didn't want to take that chance. Dean's creepy smile and black eyes made frequent appearances in his mind's eye. What would Dean do in this situation? He wondered if he was leading Dean and Crowley straight to their sister. A massive woman-hunt wasn't something you could sweep under the rug and keep quiet. The demons would soon find out where he was going, so whatever they had to do, it had to be quick.

His phone chirped, signaling he'd received a text message.

SAM, IT'S JACK. I THINK I HAVE A BEAD ON YOUR GIRL. GIVE ME A CALL WHEN YOU GET A CHANCE.

Sam practically dropped the phone in the floorboard as he tried to dial Jack's number. Finally, a lead, he thought.

"Hey Jack, it's Sam Winchester. Please tell me you have something I can use."

"Hey Sam. My condolences about your brother, man. I lost mine about twenty years ago. It still hurts."

Sam appreciated what Jack had to say, but it wasn't something he wanted to hear right now, and he didn't want it to get out that his brother was alive…and a demon.

"Thanks Jack. So whatcha got?"

"About four days ago, some convenience store on Cramer Street got robbed. The perp shot the clerk in the chest when she wouldn't hand over the cash in the register. Shot deader than dead, man. Your girl was in the back of the store doing some shopping when it happened. When the robber got the cash and left, she went to the front of the store and knelt down next to the store clerk. Now, what I'm telling you is what my buddy at the police station told me after he watched the surveillance tapes. He couldn't believe what he saw. If he only knew, right, Sam? We see stuff that'd melt his brain."

"Yeah, you're right. So what happened?" Sam was trying not to let Jack hear his impatience.

"So this chick kneels down and the camera picks up this bright flash of light when she places her hands on the clerk's chest. Seconds pass and the clerk sits up, unphased. You'd only known she got shot based on the big, bloody hole in her shirt."

Sam could feel the muscle fibers tingle in his back. It was probably time for a pitstop, but after hearing this from Jack, he didn't want to stop. He had to get there before sunrise.

"Did the camera get a good look at her?"

"No, man. She was wearing a black hoodie. My buddy said she was wearing a uniform of some sort though. A work uniform. Her shirt was burgundy, and she was wearing khaki pants. He thought it was a uniform because of the logo on the front. That was the only thing he could make out. It's the logo of some coffee shop chain in the area. There's a half a million of them here, so she probably works close to the convenience store. Even still, there's three locations nearby."

"This is a big help, Jack. I really appreciate your help."

"Can I ask, Sam, whatcha need her for? Is she an angel or something."

Sam carefully orchestrated his response. He didn't want to give away the farm or give Jack the impression she was of great importance.

"She's a friend. We've been looking for her, because she can help me with this case I'm working on ."

"Well, I hope you find her, bro. She can help a lot of people with powers like that. Are you sure she's a friend though? She sounds more like something we might need to take care of."

"No, she's good, Jack. Trust me. She's no threat."

"All right, man, you let me know if you need anything else. Watch yourself, Sam. The air isn't tasting so good nowadays."

"I agree, Jack. Thanks again. I'll keep in touch," Sam hung up and tossed the cell in the seat next to him when Castiel appeared. Sam nearly wrecked the car as he flinched from Castiel's sudden presence.

"Cas, seriously, you have to stop doing that!" His heart felt like it was going to explode through his chest.

"What else would you like me to do, Sam?"

"Can't you like warn me first? You know, call me, text me, send me some kind of telepathic telegram?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Sam."

Sam grasped the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to calm his nerves. He wrung his hands over the dry leather repeatedly.

"We found her, Cas. I heard from another hunter that she's still in Wichita and was just seen a few days ago at a convenience store healing someone in a botched robbery."

"I have an idea, Sam, on what we can do. You're not going to like it."

"Ok, hit me with it," Sam groaned.

"When we get there, we have to go straight to work. I caught wind that demons are already there. Somehow they found out we were looking for her and they're trying to beat us to the punch. I think I know which shop she works at. I spoke with an angel named Ithuriel, and he said he's seen her come in and out of that shop. He was actually present the night of the robbery and followed her when he witnessed what she did to the clerk. He never could get a good look at her face so we're still in the same boat of not knowing what she looks like. He did, however follow her back to work, which is two blocks down from the convenient store. He suspects she's probably working today."

The hope wasn't easy to suppress. Sam half smiled but then realized Castiel wasn't done with his story. The bad news was yet to come.

"This is how we're going to draw her out, Sam. I'm sorry about this, but it's the only thing I could think of on short notice. My plans were sabotaged when I found out about the demons. We need to head straight to the shop. They open in roughly forty-five minutes, so we have a perfect opportunity here to draw her out."

Castiel hesitated to speak further. Sam could tell Castiel was trying to soften the details for his benefit, but he just wanted to get it over with.

"Just spill it, Cas. What do you have to do?"

"I will have to run you over with the car in front of the coffee shop. I'm not going to lie, Sam, it may not kill you immediately but then again, it could. It won't be painless. Are you sure you want to do this?"

No, he wasn't sure. He was emphatically certain he didn't want to do this, but it was their only option. There were too many margins for error, and the thought made his stomach churn.

"No, Cas, I don't want to do this, but it seems like I don't have a choice. My brother has to be stopped, or this world will be nothing but rivers of bodies. I can't take that to the grave."

"I'll be right there if she doesn't show up. We won't have long though, Sam. The longest I can wait is four minutes, tops. After that, I have to heal you."

Sam wanted to vomit. The acidic taste of bile tickled the back of his throat. If Dean, human Dean, was sitting here, he'd be the one volunteering as martyr. He breathed in slowly, trying to swallow the nerves creeping up his throat.

"Ok, fine," Sam replied.

As they pulled onto Cramer Street in downtown Wichita, the streets were filled with people going to work, getting breakfast, or out for their morning stroll. Sam pulled off onto a side street, a block down from the coffee shop.

"Last chance to back out. I can't imagine what you're going through, but rest assured I'm here. You won't suffer long."

"Four minutes is pretty long, Cas. I pray it's not that long." He could feel hyperventilating breaths start to push against the inside of his lungs. Panic was starting to rear its ugly head.

"You'll be fine, Sam. Remember, this is going to save the world. Just try to focus on that."

Sam didn't want to talk about it anymore. He just wanted it over and done with. He flung the car door open, and Castiel scooted across the seat behind the wheel. The knot in his stomach pulsed as he turned the corner to walk down toward the coffee shop. Behind him, he heard Castiel drive off. He would miss the roar of the Impala, the way she purred when she came to life. The rev of the engine reminded him of times when Dean would get behind the wheel and just floor the gas. He'd look over at Sam and nod his head with pure ecstasy.

When he reached the front of the coffee shop, he caught a glimpse of the Impala roaring down the street right at him. He took a step forward to cross the street, and the black blur in his peripheral view struck him. He tumbled over the hood, slammed into the windshield and flew over the top of the Impala. The world spun in thousands of directions as he flew through the air before he finally face-planted on the asphalt.

The morning sun had not gotten the chance to scald the asphalt, so the warm surface cradled Sam's face. His ears were ringing, but it was moments before he started to feel the agonizing pain in his legs and back. He knew his spine was intact, but he was afraid to look down at the aftermath. Passersby screamed in horror as they crowded around him. He could feel hands upon him, muffled voices danced around his consciousness, and ironically, the smell of pastries wafted through his nasal cavities. Before he knew it, he was looking at the sky and staring back into Castiel's face. His lips were moving but he couldn't hear him. The light from the early morning sun faded in and out as Sam blinked his eyes from the pain. His body convulsed, and he sputtered blood all over himself and Castiel.

Four minutes, Sam. Four minutes.

The light was getting dimmer and dimmer, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Just vanish into the sunlight and let it take away all the pain. Blood pounded against his eardrums, and he managed to catch a few words Castiel said.

"Hang in there, Sam. Any minute now."

Sam thought he heard himself say "hurry," but he couldn't focus on anything but the pain. The ungodly pain. The sense of drowning as his lungs began to fill with blood. He wanted it all to stop. Maybe if he just let go, Castiel would move on and take care of it. He didn't need Sam to find his sister and stop Dean.

Between blinks, he could see the look on Castiel's face. He was worried.

"It's ok, Cas," he heard himself gargle through blood.

Castiel didn't respond. He placed his hand on Sam's face, and Sam knew it would be any minute now. Death or he'd sit right up. Castiel pressed his hand into Sam's face again. Sam couldn't see past Castiel's fingers, but he could tell Castiel was struggling.

Sam could fill icicles creep up his arms. He noticed he was shivering, and all he wanted to do was let go.

He heard Castiel whisper into his ear, "Sam…I…can't do it. I'm sorry. It's not working, and she isn't coming. I'm…I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sam closed his eyes, and the world went black.