A/N: I am so overjoyed to see people return to this story!

I won't lie– this chapter is a little plot-heavy, and not 100% my usual vibe. BUT- I got a (lovely) request for more Dean whump and I'm happy to oblige when I can! If there's something I write that you know you want more of, feel free to ask! If I can, I'll throw more of it in.

( ) ( ) ( )

"You liked it?" Sam echoed Dean's confession now that they had a moment of privacy.

After stumbling through an apology to Nikki, Dean grabbed Sam and the two of them circled the grounds a few times, trying to get back on the same page. As much as Dean wanted out of this motel complex and out of this town, Zadkiel was still alive. Nothing good was on the horizon. And if using the grace made him feel decent, then Dean knew it was nothing but bad news.

"Dude, my bar could not be any lower, okay? Usually I feel like a busted piñata. No, actually, that's on a good day. Most days I feel like roadkill on a stick." Dean released a sigh. "I'm not saying I got drunk off some angel-juice mojo-mojito, I'm just saying it … kinda felt like a nice buzz." Dean tried explaining as best he could, but he didn't understand the sensation terribly well himself.

"It's great that you're feeling better, believe me–"

"I get it, Sam. Ain't gonna lead anywhere good. I'm not planning on hulking out with it. Let's just kill Zadkiel and we'll figure it out later."

To be honest, Dean wasn't overly concerned because he wasn't even sure he did feel any better. His latest outburst in the gym left him feeling a bit less heavy inside, but he couldn't describe it any better than that. Maybe it was no more than an adrenaline rush.

"Zadkiel has to be making a move soon. Even with Cas' warding, they know we're still here." Sam said.

"We need to find a way to get Nikki out." Dean added, walking a step away from Sam, looking for a place he could sit down. At the moment, he was gauging how far the walk would be back to the room. He and Sam had done several loops around the complex and he found himself a little disoriented. "Can you talk to her?" Dean added, pushing it off on Sam.

"I mean I can but it feels like you should. I really don't know her, Dean. She's a little… awkward with me and Cas and I mean… can you blame her? We're not much more than strangers."

Dean was still distracted, feeling his knee give out a little.

"What?" Dean tried playing back what Sam just said. "No, I don't blame her for anything. But she needs to be safe, and I can't keep… doing this with her here." Dean's comment was a bit dark, a little bitter, almost.

Dean didn't specify, but Sam imagined that the anger and embarrassment Dean initially felt when Nikki had first texted him was likely returning. They may have gone through a smooth period, surviving off residual fumes, but Dean must have been starting to fray. Sam imagined the same was probably true of Nikki. Too many years had passed, too much had changed, and the stakes were simply too high.

"I understand, I do. But she hasn't done anything wrong. Is something more going on you want to talk about?"

Dean's senses were quickly becoming overstimulated; he tried listening to Sam, but each word was a struggle to comprehend. Giving into his growing weakness, Dean cut off the conversation.

"Sam, I gotta sit down."

"Hmm? Yeah, uhh, we can talk in the room." Sam shrugged off the comment, missing Dean's urgency.

"No, I mean right now." And in an instant, the static of angel-radio was back in his head.

"Sit on the curb." Sam snapped into action, abandoning all previous conversations. He tried guiding Dean down, but Dean couldn't hear Sam very well through the noise.

"Static again." Dean said, too loudly, as a wave of dizziness caused him to reach out to steady himself against Sam.

"SIT. DOWN." Sam enunciated.

Dean read Sam's lips, and let his brother guide him until his ass was planted on the parking lot curb. Sam held a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced.

His vision began fading, and he felt his body begin to sag off the curb. Sam's grip steadied Dean and Sam guided Dean's head so that it was hanging between his knees. Curled up like a pretzel, with Sam's heavy hands on him, Dean began to feel the fuzziness dissipate and his vision return. The static began to die out, and his brother's muted voice became clearer. After another moment, the radio was gone, but his whole head felt a little flushed; Sam's voice still sounded like it was coming from underwater, but at least Dean was beginning to come back to what was right in front of him. The nausea wasn't abating, though. Instead of fighting it, Dean gave in and let himself throw up. The gagging left his head pounding worse than it had been, but at least there was an overall wave of relief. Dean took a few ragged breaths in recovery, and found that his hearing had officially returned to normal.

"Better?" Sam asked, voice quiet this time.

Dean wanted to say yes, but his throat was still raw and thick with bile. He opted for a mmmfff instead. Still sitting with his head between his knees, Dean wasn't quite ready to move yet. His head still felt like the lid was flipped, and he knew he oughta take it slow. The angle of his legs, though, was ragingly uncomfortable. Dean cautiously extended his leg out, pushing his heel against the asphalt until the leg was fully extended.

"Do you wanna get up?" Sam asked, observing the shift.

Dean cleared his throat.

"I wanna go home, Sam."

Such a simple phrase. But so heavy. Encapsulating so much in so few words. They were no closer to killing Zadkiel, Dean was no closer to rekindling a relationship with Nikki (at least not in the same way as before), and, as always, had no idea what they were doing. They weren't exactly batting 1000 and it was starting to wear on them both. This whole time they were supposed to be plotting against Zadkiel; easier said than done when every answer they proposed came with double the amount of questions.

"We will. Soon." Sam didn't have a very inspiring speech at the ready, but he hoped that Dean felt better having at least admitted it.

"You think it's best to bring a fight to him?" Dean asked, redirecting back to more pressing matters.

"Ever since we got Nikki back, he's lost his leverage. I don't know what he has in the cards."

"You don't think he knows anything useful, right? Dean asked, a small part of him hoping Zadkiel would be some magical keeper of answers.

"I doubt it." Sam shrugged, knowing Dean felt defeated. "Are you ready to head back?"

Dean raised an arm so Sam could pull him upright, and he gave a final spit on the asphalt. Dean was steady enough on his feet. He passed by Sam to begin walking towards the room. Sam's footsteps didn't follow. The sound of his name paused Dean.

"Uhhh…Dean." Sam kept his teeth together and his brow pulled inward. "It's back that way." Sam gestured behind them.

"Right." Dean gave a half-smirk and tried to shake off the stare Sam was giving him.

As he walked closer to the nearest row of rooms, Dean's vision began to blur again. Then, suddenly, his ears felt like they'd gone underwater; everything became muted and muffled. He stopped walking, and turned back to face Sam.

"Static again." Dean said, too loudly, as a wave of dizziness hit him like a brick wall.

Instead of trying to get rid of the awful electric feeling in his mind, Dean tried to concentrate on listening. If he could get something that Cas would be able to translate, maybe they could be one step ahead of Zadkiel.

Nausea began building in his stomach, but he swallowed thickly and focused on plucking out whatever words he could. Amrftrax … Rythyn … Nthrot… Dean felt Sam's hand squeeze his shoulder but if his brother was speaking, Dean couldn't hear it. Sam squeezed again, this time beginning to drag Dean forward. Dean resisted the movement, and stood off squarely with his brother.

Sam's eyes were tense with worry. His hands broke away from Dean in order to sign the message he knew his brother couldn't hear right now.

Sam's fist rose to underneath his chin where this thumb swiped from underneath, moving the whole hand forward. Then, both fists crossed in front of his chest, making an X shape, as he moved them away from one another, until his arms were untangled.

Not safe.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. With angel radio still ringing, Dean followed Sam back to the rooms, where they hoped to find Cas and Nikki waiting.

( ) ( ) ( )

"Sam, you gotta speak up, I still can't hear too good." Dean spoke too loudly, but no one particularly minded.

"SOMEONE WAS WATCHING US." Sam enunciated. "WHEN YOU HEARD THE ANGELS, SOMEONE CAME OUT OF THEIR ROOM."

"I would know if an angel were this close." Cas corrected Sam's assumption.

"Maybe it was a coincidence." Nikki offered in vain, knowing how low that probability was.

"I don't believe in coincidences, and nobody said it had to be an angel." Sam's lips were stern and his opinions were resolute. Someone knew about Dean, the grace, and were intent on keeping tabs. Which meant that Zadkiel had some seriously devout spies, or he wasn't the only one after the grace. "We have to get out of here. Like five minutes ago." Sam said.

"Zadkiel will track us, wherever we go," Cas replied.

"You wanna stay for a siege on their terms?"

"No, but blindly running away isn't inherently any safer."

Dean had been patient for a long enough stretch, so he gave himself permission to finally cut in.

"Could someone please talk a little slower?! I've got half an eardrum up and running right now, and a room full of chatty freakin' kathy's."

Dean brought his hand up to his ear and snapped, measuring how loud the noise seemed.

Cas approached Dean, placing two fingers on his forehead.

Sam is concerned– Dean heard Cas in his head, talking to him in that weird telepathic way which, at the moment, made Dean's head pound. He pulled away.

"Not now, Cas, I got enough rattling going on up there." Dean's voice was still too loud.

Sam got Dean's attention and signed "leave" but that was hardly a sufficient explanation.

Sensing the tension that miscommunication caused, Nikki crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, waving Dean to sit next to her. He followed her prompt; Nikki gestured to the ear Dean had snapped in front of, silently asking if that was the one with better hearing. Dean responded not-so-silently.

"YEAH- that one's better."

Nikki pressed her face against his, angling herself so that she could speak at a loud whisper directly into his ear. It was something that Sam wouldn't have considered, and may have been too strangely intimate. But with Nikki, it seemed much more reasonable. She caught him up, not leaving anything out, and then pulled away to listen to his commentary.

"I HEARD SOME-" Dean realized how loud he must have been, and tried to force his voice quieter, even though he couldn't hear himself speak very clearly. "I heard a few words on angel-radio; Cas, you gotta bear with me cause I'd really like to buy a vowel."

Dean stumbled through pronouncing the three words he'd made out clearly, Amrftrax … Rythyn … Nthrot…and then asked if that meant anything, or if it was gibberish.

Cas contemplated for a moment as they all waited with bated breath.

"Those words are synonyms. They're all variations of "bombard" or "seige"... The translations are imperfect, but they're terms used for battle." Cas explained, "If you're asking for my interpretation…"

"We are," Sam chimed in.

"I don't think Zadkiel's coming for us. The hope is to flush Dean out. To use angel radio to… drive him mad, perhaps."

"Zadkiel's still scared of the grace if he's poking Dean with a forty foot stick," Sam concluded.

Nikki leaned into Dean's ear again, relaying the conversation as it played out in real time.

"It seems to be an awfully far-fetched plan, even for Zadkiel." Cas' face contorted, trying to sort through what battles lay on the horizon.

"I told Dean earlier– he lost his leverage when we got Nikki back. I don't see what his play is."

"TIME OUT" Dean called, pulling away from Nikki. "Can I use the grace to kill Zadkiel? If I get close, can I smite him?"

Sam signed something that Dean couldn't remember the meaning of.

"I don't know what you're saying," he impatiently admitted.

Sam tried again, picking different signs. He put an open palm to his mouth and then dropped it away, followed by an index finger raised from his temple.

Bad idea

"Why?" Dean asked.

Sam dramatically responded with a brotherly you're an idiot expression; had they not just decided that using the grace was bad news?!

"Seriously, if Zadkiel can't take the grace without my permission, why not just fight him now?"

Sam began yelling (signing when he could) tense words of defense back at Dean. Dean was trying to keep up, and he appreciated that Sam was arguing with him. But Dean just couldn't stay focused.

The static abruptly returned, and Dean couldn't listen anymore. His mouth went dry, and a cloudiness filled his head. Just like when he got mad in the gym. …

This was more than angel-radio.

He felt a familiar rush inside of him and focused on closing the storage room door. If using the grace was starting to come more easily to him, then undoubtedly it was bad, and it's not like he had room for error. Everyone was in this small room. Confined.

No explosions. No outbursts. He had to keep it all locked up.

Nausea began building in his stomach and he swallowed thickly. He felt a wave of hot flush surge up his chest, into his head. Dean fought against the sensation with everything he had; he willed his eyes to remain a dark green, to not let the grace take control. The power was coiled like a spring, but when it finally burst, Dean locked the storage room door, forcing the grace back into dormancy.

Whatever buzz of relief Dean felt earlier when he used the grace was long-gone. This new sensation was the opposite. Chest tight, head pounding, muscles cramping, knees shaking– Dean felt like crap. Only one small gain: sound was abundant around him once again.

"HEY! Dean?!" Sam clapped Dean on the back.

The older man didn't know how long his brother had been trying to get his attention. Hopefully he'd only lost a few moments.

"M'kay." Dean mumbled, pinching his eyes shut. "Can hear again."

"Radio?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…."

"But-" Sam prompted, picking up on Dean's censorship.

"Felt the grace. Tried to fight it." Dean looked around, trying to make sense of where they were.

Nothing felt familiar. Not the wallpaper or the broken chair in the corner. Not why Nikki was wearing Sam's shirt, or why his head was pounding. He knew he was Dean. And his brother was Sam and Cas and yadda yadda… but… the details felt so distant.

"Where..?" No matter where Dean turned for answers in his mind, he was met with a deep and invasive fog.

"Dean, do you know where we are?" Sam asked, voice metered and calming, as if approaching a wild animal.

Dean knew that he should know the answer to Sam's question. And he knew where they weren't. They weren't home. They weren't in the car. They weren't particularly safe. But that wasn't the answer Sam was looking for. Dean knew that much.

( ) ( ) ( )

Dean had been unable to answer a few more basic questions, brushed off Sam's gentle efforts to get him to lay down, and eventually succumbed to a series of absent seizures.

Whether this event was a reaction to subduing the grace, a symptom of angel-radio, or the beginning of the mental deterioration Cas warned them about so many weeks ago, no one knew. Painfully, only time would tell.

For the next several hours, Dean was largely lost to reality. Angel radio was accosting him, and his fried nerves made him so much more susceptible to flares of grace that seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Whatever the angels were planning unfortunately seemed to be working– they'd found a way to irritate the grace inside Dean, until he was too wiped to be threatening.

Sam had no idea what to do.

Dean was dead on his feet, brain in a complete fog, and getting weaker by the minute. The way Sam saw it, the only way through this was a direct hit. They had to meet the angels, and they had to kill them. Plain and simple. Except it wasn't plain, and it was far from simple. But what choice did he have? Every passing minute, Zadkiel got closer to storming the proverbial castle. Every passing minute, Dean got weaker and weaker. Risking an extraction of the grace was pointless; even if Dean survived Cas' attempt to remove it, the way he'd done with Sam and Gadreel's grace years earlier, the grace would be no safer. Then they'd simply have to ensure the extracted grace never reached anyone else's hands. Contrarily, keeping the grace in Dean was allowing him to be tethered to the angels' will. So Sam had to cut the cord, sever the string, break the connection. Zadkiel had to die.

At least that was the information Nikki overheard Sam tell Castiel while she waited outside, wandering aimlessly. God, she wished she'd never texted Dean. Not because she was disappointed in him, or even that she regretted being roped into this mess, but because she realized how useless she was. She'd been a decent hunter, and a good person, but this pain? This suffering? This fear and anguish and violence and danger? She was no match for it. No one should have to hold her hand through it. Nikki could always take care of herself— but that never meant refusing help or digging her heels in stubbornly; it meant never putting herself in a position that necessitated being taken care of. Regardless of her efforts, fate caught up with her. Here she was, cluttering the already busy floor, trying her best to keep her head down and not get in the way.

Nikki dragged her shoes against the concrete walkway and folded up the sleeves of Sam's shirt. The rolls had since come undone and the flannel sleeves fell long past her hands. It would be nice to be able to wear her own clothes again, she thought, and decided to focus her energy on that mundane, calming notion. A mild breeze blew a few strands of hair into her face, and she turned to face the wind, forcing her hair back to status quo. A light was on in a room across from her, curtains slightly open; a man crossed by the window, something she couldn't see in his hands. Curiously, she inconspicuously wandered a few yards closer, and waited for him to pass by the window once again. Thirty seconds passed, and he crossed into her line of vision. This time, there was no mistaking the object in his grasp.

The same kind of blade her kidnappers had. Chrome and pointed, without a hilt.

Nikki held her breath instinctively, and turned slowly to back away. She was a hunter, sure, but this went so far beyond a salt 'n burn– she didn't dare touch it.

Her pace quickened with each yard that she got closer to the boys. By the time she arrived to the rooms, she was breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?!" Sam's tone was feverish.

"They're here. At least one…"

Nikki cycled through all the information she had, as Cas and Sam patiently listened. It wasn't until the end of her story that she realized Dean was nowhere to be found. Before she could ask, gagging sounds emanated from behind the closed bathroom door.

"Is he–?" Nikki didn't want to say "okay," clearly things were far from okay.

"He's doing as well as he sounds," Cas said.

"Nikki…" Sam intended on asking her to stay with Dean, but he hesitated; if Dean was feeling strung-out, embarrassed, and sensitive about how much Nikki had seen of him, how could Sam leave a vulnerable Dean with her? But Sam didn't have many options. Dean was weak and he had to go fight on the front line. This was a time for hard decisions.

"Stay here with Dean while Cas and I go check it out?" Sam was already arming himself.

"I don't know how many of them there are, it could be an ambush for all I know." The last thing Nikki wanted was to lead them into a trap.

"We'll be fine." Sam and Cas were out the door before Nikki could even tell them which direction to head.

( ) ( ) ( )

Castiel and Sam were a surprisingly adept tag-team. Cas was able to predict Sam's actions more accurately than he ever could Dean's. Cas flanked Sam, observant of every shadow passing. It didn't take long for them to reach the room in question, and they stood silent in observation; there didn't seem to be anything violent or nefarious unraveling.

"Thoughts?" Sam asked.

"Human, I think." Cas responded, relatively confident. "There's warding in the room but it isn't very strong. I doubt he's done it properly."

"I'm gonna go." Sam wasn't asking, or waiting. Cas had no choice but to follow him to the door, weapon in hand.

Sam huddled outside the door for a split second before trying the handle, and ramming into the door. The wood was thin and the construction poorly executed. While any other door would have necessitated being kicked in or smashed with a battering ram, this one easily splintered apart. Gun raised, Sam scanned the room and indeed only found one man; his arms up in immediate surrender, blade tossed to the ground.

"Who are you?!" Sam demanded, voice deep and resonant.

"Daniel- Daniel Fordham, please don't kill me…" The man was blubbering.

Castiel stared at the incorrect sigils spray painted on the walls, and noted how the room was hardly fortified. No salt across thresholds, no hex bags, no devils traps… This man was not prepared in the least.

"Why are you watching us?" Sam asked, gun still raised.

"They told me they could make her healthy… please."

"WHO?!" Sam demanded.

"I don't know any names! They came to me. I don't know where they're from… It was a man…a few others, I don't know. They said if I watched you… if I told them what I saw, then they'd help my daughter. Please. They really can help her, they showed me how they can heal. I'm sorry, I am, I never meant to hurt anyone."

"Sam." Cas spoke gently, observing how genuine the man's fear was. Sam listened to the plea, and put down his gun.

"Mr. Forham," Cas began, "Let's start from the beginning."

( ) ( ) ( )

Nikki wanted to put on the TV– to drown out the noises of Dean puking his guts out, and drown out the worries that were screaming in her head. But no amount of ambient noise would calm her nerves. She settled for pacing back and forth, wondering if she needed to check on Dean. Nothing she could do would help, she suspected, but Sam had trusted her to temporarily watch out for him. God help her, she would do what she could.

Approaching the bathroom door, Nikki raised a knuckle and rapt lightly. No response. Alright, well either it was an intentional diss, or he wasn't well enough to reply. She could risk getting snapped at or admonished. She couldn't risk ignoring a crisis. Opening the door slowly, she hoped that he'd have time to yell at her to go away if he were truly upset. But she met no resistance, physical or otherwise.

"Dean?" Nikki pushed the door all the way open and found him hunched over the toilet, as was predictable. His face was so buried in the bowl, he couldn't see her. Nikki laid an open hand on his back and he violently recoiled from the contact, startled.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me. You've been in here awhile, I wanted to make sure—"

"CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING," Dean unintentionally shouted, blinking a little too rapidly. "RADIO."

Nikki nodded in understanding. Thankfully he was more lucid than Sam indicated he had been earlier. She wasn't sure how well she'd do talking to a Dean who didn't remember who she was. And she certainly wouldn't have been able to explain to him what the hell was going on. Dean leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. She stepped away, grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, and time, so as to startle him less, she nudged his foot with her own, prompting him to open his eyes. She unscrewed the bottle and bent down, handing it to him. He took a few timid sips before his arm started to weaken. He put the bottle on the floor before he could start shaking. Nikki awkwardly patted and squeezed his leg in reassurance before giving him privacy once again.

( ) ( ) ( )

"How do they contact you?" Sam asked as he stood tense by the busted doorway.

"They told me to read this passage…" The man pointed to a book open on the counter; Cas brought it over to where he was seated at the table. "And after I read it, to speak aloud what I'd seen, and they would be able to hear it."

"What have you told them so far?" Sam's tone was stern, but he was trying not to be overly intimidating.

"There are four of you… A tall one, one in a trench coat, a girl, and… the one they want. I told them–"

"How do you know he's the one they want?" Sam perked up.

"They told me what he looked like. The way he moved. That…" The man became nervous.

Castiel took a step closer to the man.

"That he'd be the one getting sicker." The man winced, dropping his eyes. "Please. I'm not causing any of this. My daughter is dying. She's very ill, there's hardly anything doctors can do, we don't have any money…"

"These people…" Cas became soft. Empathetic. He sat across from the man, looking deeply into his eyes. "These are not good people. They will not keep promises they make. They've left you here, alone and unguarded, to take these risks… Do you think they will help you and your family when it comes down to keeping their end of the bargain?"

"What choice do I have?"

Sam took a step inwards.

"You help me save my family, I'll help you save yours." Sam extended his hand and Daniel Fordham shook it.

( ) ( ) ( )

Nikki's snores were audible through the thin walls between rooms. Cas was guarding Daniel for the night, and Sam was finally back with Dean.

Sam helped maneuver a hoodie over his brother's head, and wedge his good arm through a sleeve. They left his hooked arm out of the equation; Sam simply tucked the extra empty sleeve back into the sweatshirt.

"Hood on or off?" Sam whispered incredibly quietly– there was no more angel-radio, Dean's hearing had returned, but his ears were sensitive to all noise. Sam had even unplugged the clock, remembering how much the sound had bothered Dean after he was turned by the vampire.

"On," Dean whispered back. Sam left the hood in place atop Dean's messy hair.

Sam was more than relieved to have Dean's lucidity fully return. Despite feeling like garbage, Dean was back to having a fully-functioning mind, free of confusion or anxiety. Neither of them spoke a word about whether it might return– they'd cross that bridge if they came to it.

Dean was inquisitive about all that happened while he was checked-out, but Sam didn't want to lay down a barrage of details that Dean had no energy to keep track of. So he gave his brother the cliffs notes and told him they could catch up more in the morning.

"After we kill Zadkiel… You get a vacation, man. Anything you want, anywhere you want, let's make it happen." Dean said.

"Right now, I'd settle for six hours of shut-eye."

"One more thing–"

"Oh my god, what…" Sam's face was already planted in the pillow.

"Did that Daniel guy ever say what was up with his family? Are you sure Cas can heal his kid or whatever? Cause if you can't keep that promise then–"

"Yeah, uhh, Cas went and saw them. They had been here, but the dad freaked and moved them just outside of town. It's a boy and a girl. Daughter has cerebral palsy; some kind of infection is killing her." Sam's tone wasn't without sympathy, but he was almost asleep.

"Geez." Dean grunted.

"Yeah, I know. But Cas can help them. Just, can we please wait til tomorrow?"

Dean went silent and tried drifting off to sleep. He was exhausted, but his nerves were still tingly and his ears were still ringing. Soon, though, he started to fade. Right before sleep he had a passing realization…Oh….

And Dean dreamt of power rangers, defeating Zadkiel with the power of Megazord.