Sam paced in the hallway right outside the infirmary, trying not to be annoyed by Cas' nearly motionless stance. He knew the angel was concerned for his brother, but his unflappable demeanor was starting to rub on his nerves. It wasn't Cas' fault though, and he had to remind himself of that again.

Dean hadn't improved overnight. In the time since they rested, Dean had suffered two more seizures, each just as scary as the last. Neither episode he remembered. Both times beforehand his brother seemed to lose touch with reality, and after it was over he was incoherent for the better part of half an hour. Thankfully he had yet to stop breathing again. For the moment Dean was settled in a fitful and trembling rest, seeming too exhausted to be awake, but too agitated to fall into anything even resembling sleep.

Sam was careful to keep his voice low. "We have to get him out of here, I don't care what it takes."

Cas looked sympathetic, his eyes scrunched in something that could either be pity or regret. "I don't know how we do that."

"Crowley. We summon him, make him take Dean somewhere safe."

"Without accessing the warding outside the bunker, we cannot power it down and let a demon enter. He wouldn't be able to even touch the warding to disengage it."

"Mom. We call her, she can lift the warding for Crowley."

"The fallout hasn't cleared enough, without the bunker's protection, she would be struck with smiting sickness more than half a mile from here. I don't know that she could remain conscious all the way to the bunker's door."

"You said it was fading."

"Not fast enough."

Sam scrunched his eyes closed. "We don't even know if this spell would let any warding be tampered with." He reasoned, trying to assure himself that the plan should be abandoned. His mind didn't let it go so easily. "There has to be someone we can call. Garth, can't he get past the fallout? He's a werewolf."

Cas shook his head. "Werewolves are still, at their core, human. He may hold out longer, but I don't believe it would make a difference."

The younger hunter rubbed a hand over his face, taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall. "I have been searching non stop. I have nothing to show for it. No leads on what is doing this, and no idea how to get him out of here. He's just getting worse."

Castiel put a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder. "Dean is strong. He will hold on until you figure this out. If anyone can come through this alright, it's him."

"Thanks Cas." He sighed. "I hope you're right."

Dean's cry from the next room captured both their attention, but the urge to jump and run had been suppressed. Dean had been crying out in pain and torment, both physical and imagined all night. Sam pulled himself from the wall, heading to sit beside Dean's bedside again, allowing him a break to comfort his brother rather than research for a few moments.

Dean's eyes were screwed shut against whatever hellish vision gripped him. Sam had insisted they turn down the lights hours ago, but even in the dim lighting he could make out the sweat that dripped down his face. He struggled against the air, muttering incoherently, but Sam could make out his name and more than a few "please" thrown in. The older brother opened his eyes and woke with a startle, pulling himself into a fully upright sit. He flashed his eyes around the room, desperately trying to orient himself, finally coming to rest on Sam's figure in the semi-darkness.

Sam had a hand steadying his brother already, and was surprised when Dean threw his arms around him, drawing him into a close and desperate hug. He slowly pulled his arms in to return it, feeling a few tears rim his eyes as he felt the fear in his normally fearless brother's form.

"Sam… I thought-" He closed his eyes, some of his memories coming back to him. Moments of total clarity were getting rarer, but this seemed like a good moment. "I'm getting worse…" He whispered.

"Yeah, a little bit." Sam choked, sitting again as soon as he was released. "We're still working on it."

Both men jumped slightly as Cas walked back into the room, crossing and passing Dean a towel wrapped bag of ice. "Your fever appears to be worsening." He offered, his matter of fact assessment being taken by Dean for the show of concern it was.

"Thanks." Dean mumbled, weakly lifting the ice up to rest around his neck and shoulders, letting the initial unpleasantness fade into a comforting coolness. He closed his eyes, but opened them not a second later, seeming too afraid to let them come closed again for long. "I keep seeing you die, Sammy." His voice was low, just above a whisper.

Sam frowned, having suspected that might be the case.

"We're back in cold oak, but we're not young like then, you look just like now. And…" Dean shakes his head. "And it's not Jake, it's Lucifer. And when you're laid out on that mattress, there's no coming back, you're just gone, and there's nothing I can-" He is cut off by his own coughing fit.

Sam looked on in sympathy. He was no stranger to visions of his brother's death. Hell, that had been the only nightmare he had for almost two years after Gabriel set his brother in a fatal loop. They suffered a return after Metatron killed his brother. Even when he cured his brother of being a demon and had him back in the bunker, he found himself checking Dean was still alive at least once a night.

Dean shook his head, a tear managing to slip past his carefully built defenses. He felt weak, and was worried that this was a sign of emotions to come and his vulnerability would be right on display for everyone. "Anyway, it's not my favorite slideshow to revisit."

Sam didn't know what to say, and instead reached out and squeezed Dean's arm. "I think the fever might be making them worse. The dreams, or hallucinations or both." He offered. "I don't have anything I can give you to lower it, and I don't think you can keep Tylenol down."

"No." Dean agreed, his eyes following the IV Sam hooked up down to where it fed into his arm. Sam had insisted somewhere between seizure two and three, since he hadn't kept any water down in almost two days. He lifted the ice and shrugged. "This'll have to do."

Sam smiled gently, looking around to make sure Cas had left the room. "You should have seen him try and claw his way out of the garage earlier. Full might of a pissed off angel."

"Glad baby's outside. Would have had to kill him if he scratched my car." Dean smiled weakly. "It do any good?"

"Not even a dent. This enchantment is thorough. Dude really seemed to know his stuff."

"Well when you fight the things they fought, you probably had to be." Dean leaned back, eyes half closed again. "You call Mom?"

"I was going to, when we're done here."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"Everything." Sam said softly. "She deserves to know, man."

"She can't do anything." Dean protested.

"No but if you…" Sam choked for a moment, but got himself under control. "If anything goes wrong, she deserves not to be blindsided by it."

Dean nodded, reluctantly agreeing. "You go do that then. I'm going to take another stab at sleep."

"Try to hold onto the fact I'm okay." Sam apologized. "I'll be back in with some new books and my laptop soon." He wanted to always be there for Dean when he woke worried for his Sam's well-being.

"Yeah yeah, fine, whatever. Get out of here." Dean dismissed, though they both knew how much that meant to him.

Sam paced his room the entire time the phone rang for his mother. He tried three times before giving up, and figuring the likelihood of her picking up on a fourth try was low. He relented and left a message. "Hey Mom. It's Sam. I don't think you're planning it, but you have to stay away from the bunker for a few days. There was a whole angel thing, the area around the bunker isn't safe for humans. We um… we're safe from it but locked in... Something's wrong with Dean. I don't uh… Cas can't even figure out what. I'm still looking but… it's bad mom. He's sick and getting worse and I don't… I don't know what to do. If you get this… please call me back. It'd be really nice to hear your voice right about now." He sank onto his bed, finally giving into the hopeless feeling he had been pushing at bay for the last day.

He hadn't noticed the time slipping by, but was instead jolted from his thoughts by a distant crash. His heart skipping a few beats, he stood and ran to the infirmary, feeling his panic triple as he found it empty. Another crash, from the direction of the library. He turned and ran faster than he'd ever run before.

Sam came to a skidding halt in the map room, taking a moment to take in the scene. Dean stood in the archway to the library, his back to Sam, arm dripping blood, eyes crazed and glaring daggers at Cas. Sam crept forwards, hugging the wall around it's curve, trying to get a better look at Dean without pushing him further. It was immediately clear that while Dean was upright and awake, he was deeply trapped in some sort of hallucination.

Meanwhile Sam could just barely see Cas from that angle. He was standing in the middle of the library, hands up in surrender, looking very much like someone cautiously approaching a dangerous animal.

"Not another fucking step." Dean warned the angel, venom in his voice.

"Dean, it's me. Cas." Castiel said, but he did come to stop.

Sam didn't dare move, for fear of making it worse. He had finally noticed that while Dean's left hand was dripping blood all over the floor from what appeared to be a cut on his arm, his right hand was gripping an angel blade quite tightly.

Dean swayed where he was, backing up a few steps, almost back into the map room, but he never took his eyes off Cas. His steps were unsteady, and Sam was surprised he didn't fall. "I heard you the first time you bastard, doesn't make it true."

"Dean-" Sam tried.

"You shut the fuck up! This doesn't involve you." Dean growled, casting a sideways glance at Sam, no recognition of his brother obvious in his expression.

"I am not here to hurt you." Cas continued, taking another very slow step forward.

"I said don't move!" Dean raised the angel blade, his muscles tensing as he clearly prepared to respond to the perceived threat.

Cas slowly, hands still up, produced his own angel blade, holding it out immediately, trying to show Dean he was disarming himself.

"Last goddamn warning!"

"Dean, I-" He placed the blade on the table, but the movement was too much for the older hunter.

Sam sensed the shift in his brother's thoughts and surged into action. He threw caution out, starting to run at Dean full speed, knowing whatever came next wasn't good.

Dean was quicker though. He lept sideways, gracelessly, and slapped his bloody hand on the angel banishing sigil that was hidden just out of Sam's sight.

The sound was deafening, and the entire event happened so fast Sam would never fully be able to process it. The light connected from the sigil to Castiel like it always did, and Cas was flung back so fast Sam didn't even see it. Instead of slipping out of step with his surroundings and being flung miles away from the location, Cas was caught by the spell locking team free will at home. The angel hit the library's rear shelved wall.

The shock wave bouncing off the spell's energy being dispersed slammed back, pulsing through the room with a violence that couldn't be avoided. Sam and Dean were both knocked clear off their feet, being sent back into the map room. Sam's head collided with the map table as it was knocked askew, and he fell, tangling himself with the still moving chairs. Dean flew further, rolling and coming to rest closer to the stairs.

The stillness that followed was interrupted only by the residual flutter of papers to the ground. Sam blearily looked around, trying to make sense of the scene he could see. The lights in those two rooms were red again. Sam couldn't hear anything at all, the explosion temporarily deafening him. He wiped at a trickle of blood coming down his forehead from a new cut below his hairline. He groaned, acknowledging more than one cracked rib. He looked around, eyes first landing on Dean, who lay unmoving, not ten feet from him.

Pushing all thoughts of his own injuries aside, he half ran half crawled to his brother's side, pushing some splintered pieces of rubble off of him and giving him a once over. Sam ran his hands over Dean's head, and down his limbs, trying to check for obvious breaks or causes of his current unconsciousness. He got a strong pulse, and a hand on Dean's chest revealed steady breath. His left arm was definitely broken, and he was bleeding in more than one spot. There was a sizable wood chip lodged firmly in his shoulder, but he was at least stable. Sam could patch these wounds eventually. For now, Dean showed no signs of waking.

Sam finally allowed himself to look up, trying to take in the sight before him. He wasn't sure if the thick cloudy haze that was overtaking them was dust or smoke, but he figured it wasn't out of the question that it was both. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but the scene around him took him by surprise anyway.

Dean had essentially turned the angel into a fully armed missile and fired it point blank at the wall, less than fifty feet away. Sam could with full confidence say it looked like a bomb had gone off.

Despite the emergency lights and illumination from a collection of small fires, Sam still couldn't see very far through the haze. His eyes burned, and he coughed violently as his lungs protested the blatant assault. His hearing was slowly starting to return, everything around him sounding incredibly far off and under water. He could hear what sounded like the echoing noise of rubble and stone still falling and settling. The map room itself was fairly intact, overturned chairs and disrupted table aside. The archway to the library was cracked in several places, the walls around it bowed out slightly, looking close to crumbling further.

He crept forward, moving slow to avoid any hazards he might not see, given the limited visibility. The once clear path through the library was interrupted by halves of tables and large sections of concrete. As Sam stood just beyond the three steps up into the library, he could see the bookshelf nearest him, or at least what used to be. The wood was torn to splinters, and books were in shreds on the ground, a few of them fueling small fires burning patterns into the polished wood floor below.

"Cas?" Sam tried to yell to their friend, but he couldn't get his voice half as loud as he wanted. He strained to listen through his muffled hearing, but he got no audible response. Sparing one last glance to confirm his brother seemed more or less safe, he tentatively pushed further into the destroyed room.

Every single one of the middle support columns laid in ruins, and by extension, large sections of the ceiling were in various crumbling stages of caving in. Sam kept towards the edge of the room where it seemed most structurally sound. He tripped twice over splintered uneven floor boards, but kept moving. His boots protected him from the glass littering the ground. His cracked phone provided use as a flashlight, not earning him much added visibility through the debris.

He finally got past the bulk of the obstacles. The entire area towards the back of the room was devoid of any objects, everything having been repelled from the blast.

Sam noted the damage lining the entire back end of the library. He drew his eyes left, noting the smoldering crater into the brick and concrete wall. "Cas?"

He finally saw the glimpse of burning trenchcoat and pushed forward, coming to a stop at the angel's side. "Cas?" He asked, shedding his flannel and using it to smother the burning end of fabric. He knelt down, putting a tentative hand on Castiel's chest, relieved and almost surprised to find it rising and falling steadily. Cas was a sight, dirty and surrounded by quite a bit of rubble and shrapnel. He was soaked with blood, though the injuries that caused them seemed to be slowly knitting themselves back together as his angel mojo fought hard to rebuild the shattered body.

Sam was aware of the growing sounds of shifting concrete coming from overhead, and knew while the room seemed somewhat stable right that moment, it was unlikely to remain so for very long. "Sorry." He muttered, grabbing the angel under the arms and beginning to drag him backwards, retracing his steps through the minefield of destruction.

He was out of breath when he started the trek, and by the time he made it to the infirmary, he barely had the strength to drag Cas up onto one of the cots. He turned and pushed himself harder, retrieving and repeating the steps with his brother in tow. He gave one last cursory glance to the destruction behind him, making sure the small fires that had been starting were putting themselves out as the dust settled.

He carefully inspected the interior walls and ceiling of the infirmary, confident in their structural stability. He then closed the door behind him, cutting off the smoke and dust as best as he could. He struggled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground, his head injury making the room spin around him. He closed his eyes, but didn't try to spend the effort it would take to pull himself to his feet. He scooted himself towards his brother's unconscious figure, and came to lean his head on the low mattress.

Sam checked once more that his brother was breathing steadily before he lost his fight with the encroaching darkness and passed out.