CHAPTER 8

Dean's body was on the ground. Sprawled, limbs falling in random places, lying on his back. He was curled around his chest, as if he was trying to protect himself. One hand clutched at the gaping hole in the center of his chest. The other was lying limp, stretched out in front of him. The angel blade had fallen an inch from his fingertips.

There was nothing around him. No angels, and no demons. The fighting continued around them, just as fierce as before, but it was as if Dean Winchester existed within a bubble of calm.

Cas did not know the reason for it, but he didn't care, or even stop to think about it. He was too busy falling to his knees beside Dean, clutching at the front of his jacket. "No," he said, firmly. "No, Dean, you are not dead. You are going to be okay. I promise you that. You will survive."

He moved Dean's hand off his chest, and pressed his own in its place. It did nothing. Blood continued to gush between Cas' fingers, and he could no longer heal Dean's injuries.

He was powerless, and he felt it.

"Hester!" he screamed, not daring to rely on a mental prayer. "Balthazar. Any of the angels who can hear my voice, I need you here. I need your help."

He continued the calls. No angels came.

But Dean opened his eyes.

"Cas," Dean said, or almost said. Cas could see his lips move, and read the shape of them, but no sound came from Dean's mouth.

"You're okay," Cas said, instinctively. He had a brief flash of the first hunt he had completed, of sitting in the backseat of the Impala, holding the Vetala's victim and speaking those same words. They seemed much less useful now then they had been then. They had worked in calming that girl down, but he didn't see the point of them now. Not when they both knew that it was not true.

He couldn't stop speaking them, though.

"It will be okay," Cas repeated. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution. "Can you walk?"

Dean didn't reply. He didn't need to. Cas knew the answer. He didn't think that he would even be able to make Dean sit up, let alone make it all the way back to the Impala, toward safety.

He pressed harder on Dean's wound. Blood continued to pour out. Dean's eyes were closed now, unconscious. If Cas had his grace, he would not need Dean to walk. He would be able to lift Dean easily, hold him in his arms and race him to the nearest hospital.

These were pointless thoughts. If Cas had his grace, they would not need a hospital. Dean would be healed by now.

"Dean!"

Cas almost started, but then he recognized the voice. It was Sam, finally breaking through the mass of demons and stumbling to their little area of peace. His shirt was torn, and his cheek was cut deeply and still bleeding, but he didn't looked injured beyond that. For a brief moment, the relief at seeing Sam alive and relatively unhurt was strong enough to overshadow the fear for Dean.

Then he saw the grief and fear and pain covering Sam's face, and all of his own emotions came roaring back.

"He is alive," Cas said, quick and urgent. "Injured, but alive. He will not be for much longer. We must get him somewhere safe."

Sam didn't nod, or do anything to acknowledge Cas' words. Instead, he bent at once and wrapped his arms around Dean, picking him up and carrying him over his shoulder. Sam made no attempts to be gentle – there wasn't time for that. Dean gave a strangled cry, body spasming with pain. Cas didn't know if he should be grateful or not. He felt the sight of Dean's pain tear through him, as if he were the one who had been injured. But at least it showed that Dean still lived.

"Come on," Sam gasped. He was breathing hard, his voice showing the strain of carrying Dean, but he still did not hesitate. Cas did not allow himself to, either. He scrambled to his feet and hurried after Sam, blade in hand, ready to use it. Nothing would be able to reach Sam or Dean. He would not allow it.

He didn't need to use the blade. No demons approached them. It was almost eerie, moving through the battle yet remaining untouched. There was no explanation – or, if there was, then Cas didn't care to look for it. All that mattered was getting Dean to the Impala, racing him to the nearest hospital before time ran out.

Then Cas saw Azazel.

The demon had a tight grip on Lily, and was manhandling her toward the crypt, which was only a few feet away from where they stood. Lily wasn't making it easy for him. She was screaming and thrashing in his arms, trying to break herself free, to no avail. Azazel's hands were digging into her skin, and he was slowly but steadily forcing her toward the Gate. He still held the Colt. Even from this far away, and despite the chaos of the battle swarming around them, Cas was able to see the tears that streaked her cheeks, and the way that her body trembled.

He could also see that Azazel no longer held the knife that had stabbed Dean. It had been discarded a few steps back, and was lying in the dirt, still red with blood.

Cas was suddenly starkly aware of his own heartbeat in his ears, and his breathing echoing almost unbearably loud, as if part of him had been drawn inward. But his eyes remained fixated on Azazel's form, watching as he picked Lily up off the ground and forcibly carried her to the Gate, ignoring the way that she cried and kicked her legs. If her struggles hurt him at all, it didn't show on his face, and Cas doubted that it did.

He knew one thing that would hurt, though.

"Cas?" Sam shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the battle. His hands were busy supporting Dean, or else Cas was certain that Sam would be shaking Cas, or dragging him toward the car. Until that moment, Cas hadn't even realized that he had stopped moving. "Cas, we need to go!"

"I know," Cas said, and his voice sounded distant, even in his own ears.

Azazel dropped Lily in front of the Gate, shoving the Colt into her hands and closing her fingers around it. She shook her head wildly and threw the gun to the ground, turning and trying to run away.

A crack, and Lily was on the ground, clutching her face. Azazel had hit her with enough force to bruise, Cas was certain. The demon seemed calm. He simply bent and retrieved the gun, then forced it into her hands again. This time, she didn't drop it.

"Cas!" Sam shouted.

"Take Dean and go," Cas said, the words tumbling from his lips before he was conscious of the fact that he was going to say them. "Don't wait for me. I will find you later."

"Cas-" Sam protested, the word sharper this time, but Cas didn't wait around to hear what he was going to say. Instead, he took off running, aiming himself straight for the crypt.

Sam was smart. He would realize that Cas could survive the battle himself, but that Dean could not. And above all, Sam would not risk his brother's life. The Winchesters would leave without waiting for Cas, and he would track them down later, once the battle had reached its end and he had the time to search the local hospitals.

Or maybe he would die here, and never see the Winchesters again. Sam was smart enough to know that that was also a possibility. In that case, he would still focus all of his attention on saving Dean, instead of wasting time trying to aid Cas once it was already too late. Either way, Dean would be protected.

Cas hadn't understood it at first, the fact that Dean had sold his soul to save his brother. It had seemed foolish. Cas loved Sam in the same brotherly way that Dean did, and he was grateful that Sam was still alive, and that Cas had had the opportunity to know him. But even so, he couldn't imagine how an eternity of suffering in exchange for saving his life would be a worthwhile trade.

Now, though, it was suddenly, perfectly clear.

Dean might die. Cas knew that Sam would do all that he could, that the doctors would fight to save Dean's life. But Cas wasn't naive. He knew that any number of small things could go wrong, that a few seconds could make the difference between life and death, and there was no way of knowing which side would win.

If Dean died now, he would be taken to Hell. And Cas had sworn to himself that he would never allow that to happen. But as long as Azazel held Dean's soul, there was nothing that could be done.

If Dean was going to die today, then Azazel had to die first. Which meant that Cas had to kill him now, while Dean still drew breath. It didn't matter to him what became of himself, or that attempting to kill Azazel might be a suicide charge. All he knew was that he would do anything it took to regain Dean's soul, damn the consequences. And if Dean had felt half of the love and determination toward Sam that Cas felt now for Dean, then he could understand why selling his soul would be such an attractive option. Had Azazel turned to Cas and offered to let him take Dean's place in Hell, he would not have hesitated.

Lily was still on the ground. Azazel had a grip on her arms, trying to haul her to her feet and force her to close the last few steps to the door. She was still fighting, but with less intensity than she had before. This was one battle that she would lose, Cas knew. He gave it less than a minute before Azazel got his way.

Another reason to kill him now, then. If Lilith was released, it wouldn't just be that Dean was tortured in Hell; it would be far, far worse. It would mean Lucifer's eventual release, and Dean and Sam being used by the angels somehow. Cas still didn't know what Naomi wanted with the Winchesters, but he did not care. Anything that she wished, he would not allow it to come to pass. He would rather die here, to bleed out whatever was left of his grace into the ground and become nothing more than a tattered set of wings on the grass, than to allow Naomi to touch either brother.

He was not hesitating. If he died, so be it.

But Azazel would not win.

He'd wanted to take the demon by surprise. He didn't. Cas had never expected to, really.

"Castiel," Azazel said, releasing his hold on Lily and straightening, turning to face him as he approached. "Well, haven't you been a troublemaker."

Cas paused several feet away from Azazel, blade in hand, watching the demon cautiously. He was prepared to die, but that didn't mean that he embraced the idea. If he died, then he died, but if he could find a way to live, then he would. For Dean's sake, almost more than his own. It was strange, how his biggest worry regarding his destruction had nothing to do with where his soul would go, or even if he still had enough of a soul to go anywhere after death. Instead, his only thought was of all the times that Dean had already believed Cas to be dead, and of what it would do to the man if he was finally forced to confront the truth of it. It was also strange how, even knowing that Dean would be heartbroken, the thought of Cas' death still seemed worth it, so long as Azazel died with him. So long as Dean was safe, any other sacrifice was one that Cas would be willing to make.

"You made things difficult for me," Azazel continued, stepping toward him. That was good. The closer Azazel came to him, the farther that he was from Lily. Cas hoped that the girl would at least attempt to run. She may not make it far, but she could both try, at least.

She wasn't, though. She had pushed herself to her feet, and backed away until she was pressed against the side of the crypt, but she didn't look as though she planned on moving anytime soon. Cas could only hope that she'd come to her senses soon, and get away while she still had the chance.

Cas could not focus on her for long, though. The battle was about to begin.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die," Azazel said. His voice was calm, with no trace of doubt. That alone was enough to give Cas pause. Demons possessed all types of abilities, ones that could easily be used to kill a human. Cas, though, would not die so easily, and Azazel had to know enough to at least suspect that. Angels were naturally immune to some of the demon's deadliest abilities, and even if Cas were not fully an angel, that didn't mean that he would die like a human.

He still might die. If anyone was capable of discovering a way to kill an angel – or a human – like Cas, it would be Azazel. And there were hundreds of discarded angel blades littering the cemetery, and whether he was angel or human, he would still die the same if stabbed with one. But Azazel had not drawn a blade, nor any other type of weapon. He held nothing in his hands but the Colt, which was useless for anything but opening the Gate. Rather than making Cas rush forward to attack Azazel while he was unarmed, it made Cas wary instead, wondering what Azazel knew that he did not. Wondering how Azazel could possibly look so sure of his success.

He didn't realize. Not until Azazel lifted the Colt and aimed it at Cas' chest.

Even then, there was still a split second where he simply stared down the barrel of the gun, not comprehending.

"Here's the good thing about this gun," Azazel said. "It might not shoot any more once the bullets are gone, but it will still work well enough as a key. Which means there's no reason why I need to keep the last bullet at all."

That was the exact moment when Cas remembered what had happened to the last bullet. It had been in the pocket of Dean's jacket, ready to take with them into battle on the off chance that they found an opportunity to use it.

Azazel had been alone with Dean for several seconds after the stabbing, long enough for him to have found the bullet.

Cas threw himself to the side an instant later, but Azazel hadn't pulled the trigger. Of course he wouldn't. He knew better than to waste his last shot. He would wait until there was absolutely no chance of him missing, and only then would he shoot.

All that meant was that Cas couldn't give him the opportunity to shoot.

Cas was fast. He could move faster than a human, if only barely. He had not known this before, but it was something he found out only a second after his realization, when Azazel was abruptly behind him, reappearing out of thin air. Cas was moving almost before he realized where Azazel was, jumping the tombstone to his left quicker than even Dean or Sam would be capable of. He did not pause, or wait to see what Azazel would do next. He knew that all it would take was a second's hesitation, and Azazel would have the opportunity that he needed. Cas could not give him the chance.

So he continued to move, spinning out of the way before he even got the chance to see Azazel's location. All he had to guide him was instinct, the sixth sense about an enemy's location that had been honed during the long battle from before time had any meaning, facing down Lucifer's army. He did not allow himself to doubt himself. If he did, he would die.

Still, though, Azazel was faster.

He hadn't pulled the trigger. Cas still hadn't given him the chance to. He was moving fast enough to dodge a bullet, and all he needed to do was ensure that the wound was nonfatal, and he would be able to survive – or so he assumed, based on the fact that John had been relatively-unharmed by the shot to his leg. If Azazel pulled the trigger and Cas did not die, he would have lost his best weapon. Even with an injured arm or leg, Cas thought that he might still stand a chance against the demon then.

But Cas couldn't get close to Azazel, either. No matter what Cas tried, there was no denying that he had to move as a human did, and Azazel did not. Even if Cas tried to reach the demon, all Azazel had to do was transport himself a few feet away, and he would be out of Cas' reach in less than the time that it took to blink. It didn't matter what Cas tried to do. He wouldn't be able to close the difference, not while Azazel was being so careful.

He wasn't even trying to close the distance. It took all his energy, all of his focus, just to stay one step ahead. It was a dangerous dance, and one misstep meant death. A second's hesitation, a moment's pause, and Azazel would have the opportunity that he needed to bury the bullet in Cas' chest.

Cas wouldn't give up. He meant what he'd decided before about saving Dean, even if it meant dying himself. Still, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that Azazel held the upper hand. Cas would keep trying, but winning this fight would require a miracle, and Cas was no longer sure if he believed in those or not.

Then it happened. A miscalculation, a single mistake.

He'd meant to move between the two graves. He didn't.

His foot hit the tombstone, and he tripped.

It almost seemed to happen in slow motion. He staggered, and managed to catch himself before he fell, but he knew that this was exactly what Azazel had been waiting for. Cas was unsteady, and if Azazel pulled the trigger now, he wouldn't be able to move away in time.

I'm sorry, Dean, Cas thought, even though he knew that there was no chance that the Winchester would ever be able to hear those words. But that was his one regret, or the one that filled his mind the most in that moment. He pitied Sam, too, of course. And Hester, and Balthazar, and all of his other siblings who had looked toward him almost as if he were their leader. He would be disappointing them all, and for that, he felt guilty.

Dean, though, was the one that he regretted the most.

Cas took a breath, and prepared to die.

He was awake.

Maybe.

Barely.

It hurt, god it hurt, he couldn't think of anything else. Dean couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or closed, if he was awake or not or if he was fucking dead, he didn't know, all he knew was that the pain was roaring through him like the worst kind of agony, and he-

Awake. Yeah, okay, he thought that he was. And he was moving. That part was harder to tell. How the fuck could he focus on where he was going when he had all this pain, way to fucking much, he couldn't stand it, it was like his entire body was one live wire and he was on fire and he could still feel the blood pouring out of him, and it hurt like a bitch, worse than hurt like a bitch, hurt worse than anything he could ever remember and why was he awake to feel this, what had even happened to him, he couldn't even remember, all he knew was that it hurt.

One thing cut through the haze of pain, though.

Or, two things.

Sammy. Cas.

Had to find them. If Dean was hurt, they could be, too. He had to focus on that, to make sure they were okay, didn't matter if he was. If they were okay, then he'd curl up somewhere and die, and fuck he'd be glad for it, anything to get away from this never-ending pain.

But had to find Sammy. He'd been taken by the demon- No, they'd gotten him back. But he'd been somewhere. Dean had to find-

He realized it, then. His face pressed against Sam's back. Thrown over Sam's shoulder, Sam carrying him somewhere, didn't matter where, he didn't even want to ask. it just meant that Sam was alive, and okay, that was okay, Dean didn't have to look for him now.

But Cas wasn't here.

Dean's eyes were open, he'd figured that out now. Black around the edges, but he could still look. And he was staring, trying to find something, but no Cas. Could be anywhere, Dean didn't know.

"Cas." He thought he said it. He wanted to, at least, but his mouth didn't feel like it was connected to his body and he didn't even know if he could make any part of him move, if he was even still a part of his body. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he didn't have a fucking body anymore, but that couldn't be true, because he could still feel it. Death couldn't hurt like this. No way was he feeling this for all eternity, he had to still be alive, because he knew he still had his body, and that it was still throbbing and screaming and burning and hurting. He could feel it. It was just that the pain, it was way too strong and he couldn't feel anything else, nothing but the pain that was destroying him from inside.

Or maybe he was dead. Maybe this was Hell.

He didn't care. He could be alive, or he could be dead, it didn't make one bit of difference, he just needed it to stop.

He found Cas.

Across the cemetery, far enough away that Dean could barely see him. Stuff was happening around him, making his eyes burn, not as bad as everything else so he didn't even care. Things were in the way. Fighting. Corpses. But Dean could see it.

Cas, tripping over a stone. And Azazel had a gun.

He didn't know what was happening. His brain didn't piece it all together, he didn't have one clue what was happening or why it was happening or what was going to happen next, but he saw those things and he knew it was bad, that it had to stop.

Sam was moving away from Cas, running fast, getting farther and farther. No, that was wrong. They had to go back, they had to stop him, the demon would-

Dean didn't know, didn't finish that thought, but he was screaming at Sam to turn around, and screaming Cas' name, but it wasn't working. His body still didn't listen, he didn't know if the screams were just in his head. But still, Sam had to know that they couldn't leave Cas behind, Sam had to turn around and go back and save Cas and then they could get out, Sam had to-

Sam wasn't turning around.

Dean realized it now. Cas was going to die.

He was screaming. He thought it was out loud now.

Cas was going to die.

Dean couldn't stop it.

There was nothing they could do to keep it from happening.

Nothing.

The end.

It was over.

He thought.

But-

Lily moved.

The Colt went off. Cas heard it, echoing unbearably loud in his ears, and he braced himself for the feel of the bullet tearing through his flesh, and hoped that the death would come fast enough that he would not suffer the pain for long.

No pain came. The shock nearly knocked him over, but he did not stay frozen for long. He spun around instantly, looking to see what had stopped his death.

Lily had her arms tight around Azazel, in a strange inverse of the way that he had carried her to the crypt. The Colt was not aimed properly. It was pointed just a little too left, just far enough off course that it had flown past Cas' side.

She did not hold Azazel long. A second later, and Azazel threw her aside with one swipe of his hand, an angry gesture that sent her flying into the crypt. She collided with a painful crash. The crypt shook, but despite how unsteady it looked already, it did not break. But Lily did. She landed in a heap on the ground, not moving.

But for that second, Azazel was distracted.

It was all the time that Cas needed.

Azazel turned back toward him, eyes narrowed and flashing yellow, and it was clear that he still intended for Cas to die, and that he clearly expected to succeed. He must have some other way to kill someone like Cas, maybe even some secret power that the angels were ignorant to. Cas didn't know.

He never got the chance to find out.

That second was all the time that Cas needed to drive him blade into Azazel's flesh.

For an instant, everything seemed to stop, as though they were standing frozen. It was a snapshot of time. Cas' left hand on Azazel's shoulder, holding him in place while his right hand drove the blade deep enough into Azazel's stomach that the blade vanished to the hilt, and stuck. There was no blood. Azazel's eyes were still yellow, and widened in surprise, the first signs of shock just beginning to form on his features. That made Cas pleased, in a sadistic way. He was glad that Azazel realized that he was dying in the moments before it happened. After everything that Azazel had done to Sam and Dean – everything that he had aided Naomi in doing to the angels – he would be disappointed if the demon never got the chance to learn of his fate.

Then his vessel flashed, and just like that, the man's eyes were no longer yellow. They had returned to their natural color, and he fell, a multitude of other injuries forming on his dead flesh. This vessel must have died many times over, even before Cas had plunged the angel blade into him. He felt guilty for being glad of that. It would have been worth killing one innocent man to stop the demon and save Dean from Hell, and that was a choice that Cas had made, even if it made him guilty. But he couldn't stop himself from being relieved that there was nothing that they could have done to save the vessel.

And just like that, Azazel was dead.

There was no time to think of it. He ran to the crypt immediately, dropping to his knees besides Lily, his hands hovering uselessly above her form. He didn't dare reach out to her, not when he didn't know how her ability would affect him. Which meant that there was nothing he could do but kneel there, calling her name and hoping that she would open her eyes.

She did.

"Ow," she said immediately, reaching up with one hand to rub her head, followed immediately by, "Fuck!"

Cas' shoulders slumped with relief. "We can't stay here," he said, gesturing for her to stand, and straightening himself as if to lead by example. She followed suit, and not Cas could see that there was something wrong with her arm, as if it were stuck into her shoulder the wrong way. The word dislocated flashed though his head, and he grimaced. So did Lily.

But still, she managed to stand. She staggered a few times, good arm thrown out to grab for anything to hold her up. Cas stepped back, feeling guilty as he did so, watching her with worry and knowing that he could do nothing to steady her. But she managed to steady herself after only a few seconds, and though her voice was drawn with pain and tears were still streaming out of her eyes, she managed a tight nod. "Let's go."

Cas nodded, and jogged as fast as he dared – as fast as he thought that Lily would keep up with. He paused long enough to pick the Colt up from where it had fallen beside Azazel's hands, and then they set off.

Cas' mind was racing. Azazel was dead, but they were not safe. His followers fought on, and many of them likely didn't know that their leader had fallen. Naomi would not give up the fight for the sake of one dead demon. The war with the angels would continue. By now, Sam and Dean should be gone, hopefully well on their way to the nearest hospital. Cas would have to find them, but for now, he had an injured human that he had to lead away from the battle, and no idea where he was going to take her.

There was one thing that he hadn't counted on: the fact that some demons might already know that Azazel had been slain, and want revenge.

Cas sensed them a moment before he heard Lily's shriek, and turned just in time to see them coming at him. Ten demons, he thought – there was no time to count. All of them were coming after them, racing forward with fury and revenge in their black eyes. Instinctively, Cas raised his blade to defend himself and the girl, but his hand was empty – the blade he had used had been left inside Azazel's body, and he'd had no time to find a new one, despite the number of them lying about.

He scrambled back, casting his eyes around for any type of weapon that could be used against them, but finding nothing in arm's reach. He shook his head, because he could not be defenseless. He refused to believe that he could succeed in killing Azazel only to die a few feet away, slain by random demons that he should be able to defeat easily. He wouldn't allow it to happen.

Then a light flashed, and the demons shrieked.

The light grew stronger, until it began to burn Cas' eyes. Lily made a low noise, burying her face in her shoulder and covering her eyes with her uninjured hand, as if it were too much to bear. But though it hurt, it was no so painful that Cas had to turn away. So he continued to watch as the light grew stronger and stronger, and as the demons were lit from within, their eyes burning in their skulls until their vessels fell, leaving nothing but dark craters in place of their eye sockets.

It was harder to see now that he was on Earth. Heaven was far more connected to the angel's plane than Earth was, meaning that Cas had to focus hard before he finally recognized the angel as Balthazar.

Run.

Now, there was doubt. Cas knew the voice, even if the angel's form was still difficult for him to make out. "I thought you hadn't joined the fighting."

The light before him flashed louder, and then Balthazar's voice was echoing in his head again. Yes, well, I wouldn't have had to if you had taken better care of your precious Winchesters. Now run. There were more demons, surrounding them on all sides. Just like when Dean had first been injured, though, none of them were able to reach Cas or Lily. Now, he knew why. I'm holding them off as best I can, but in case you haven't noticed, there is a whole legion of demons riding your ass – and no, that's not an exaggeration. Run!

"Thank you," Cas said, and then turned and did as Balthazar had said.

He didn't look back, but he could feel Lily's presence close behind him, following him step for step. He nodded, glad that her injuries weren't holding her back as much as he had feared, and then allowed himself to focus on the area around him. He stooped as he ran, grabbing the closest demon blade and spinning it in his hand so that it would be ready to swing, and watched for any demons who might break past Balthazar and come after them.

Instead, he found Sam.

Cas stumbled, and nearly collided with him before he managed to stop himself. Sam was alone, carrying an angel blade in one fist, but nothing else. "Dean," Cas gasped immediately, terror flashing through him.

"In the Impala," Sam said, and Cas could relax, if only slightly.

"You were supposed to take him to the hospital," Cas said.

"We're not leaving you," Sam said, and nothing else. Instead, he turned and started off to the car instead, trusting Cas and Lily to follow. Cas fell in step behind him, wondering at the emotions that were rushing through him. Worry over the fact that Dean had been left alone, terror that the delay might prove fatal. But also something warmer, like relief or gratitude or love, and even though he would greatly prefer that Dean was taken somewhere to be saved, there was also a part of him that was glad that Sam hadn't actually left him behind.

The Impala was locked when they arrived. Sam fumbled for the keys, rushing to get the doors opened, while Cas pressed his face against the window to the backseat, staring inside. Dean was stretched across the seat, his eyes closed. Sam's flannel overshirt was pressed against Dean's stomach, and Dean's hands were placed over it, holding it in place, though Cas couldn't tell if Dean was conscious enough to actually hold it himself.

"Shit," Sam said, voice low, and a short stream of other expletives followed, until finally he got the door unlocked. "Get in the passenger seat," Sam added to Lily, who was already scrabbling to follow his directions. "And whatever you do, don't touch anyone."

Sam turned to look at Cas then, but Cas' attention was locked on Dean. Now that the doors were opened, he wasted no time in joining Dean in the backseat. The Colt was still in his hand, but now he tossed both it and the angel blade carelessly to the floor before carefully arranging Dean so that his head was in Cas' lap, and Cas could reach over and keep pressure on the wound. Dean did not move, or showing any sign of being able to feel what Cas did. Still, though, he breathed, and when Cas touched his free hand against the side of Dean's neck, he could feel the pulse beating there. It was faint, but still, it was present.

"Hurry," Cas urged. Sam didn't need to be told. He was already in the front seat, shifting the car into drive and taking off as fast as he dared.

"How is he?" Lily asked in a small voice. She didn't turn to look. She was clinging to the door of the car with her good hand, keeping her head buried into her shoulder like she couldn't bear to look about her.

"He will live," Cas said, sharply enough that it made Lily flinch. Cas felt guilt for that, in a vague sort of way, but then he looked down at Dean's pale face, and all other emotions were drowned out by the roar of fear and pain that rushed through him. "He will live," Cas said again, in a much lower voice. "It will be alright, Dean. You will be okay."

The words fell even flatter than before, now that he was certain that Dean was not awake enough to hear, and certainly not enough to understand. But Cas had to keep speaking them, regardless.

Sam drove faster.